An Emergent Review: "What Galileo's Telescope Can't See"

"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."

- Socrates

 

Yup, Christianity Today (CT) doesn't get it. In fact, they disregard it with a whisk of their evangelical hand still clinging to the arguments of fear and uncertainty while with the other hand they whisk away those Christians admitting to the fact that such age-worn arguments just don't add up anymore. On the one side we are given all the old reasons why Genesis and the Bible don't add up to today's newer scientific discoveries in quantum mechanics, biology, anthropology, genetics, geology, fossil records and archaeology (to mention a few!). Nope. For the "well-informed" Christian s/he must be properly skeptical. Critical. Even downright rejecting of all things scientific to evidence a more acceptable form of a faithful Christianity. And for those of us who chose to think differently, than it is we who are regarded as the hasty ones. The ones that really don't understand the Bible. Nor God. Nor our historical Christian faith. Its precious creeds and confessions. Nor even much else it seems.

Yep. CT completely adds to the fountain of Evangelical knowledge with this well written piece of disinformation. A piece I can't even begin to agree with, nor find anything helpful within, to those of us searching for answers in the areas of biblical statement, beliefs, creeds and theology. Unless, however, we are to act like the proverbial ostrich and simply stick our self-righteous heads into the biblical sands of gnarly avoidance and retributive statement. But to begin the storyline by decrying the usage of analogies because of their double-edged power of persuasion and condemnation while not recognizing that this magazine journal has committed that same error, smacks of an air of exclusivity. Heightened only by their verbose and Socratic statements of non-commitment (and/or outright rejection) by saying "We can't know for sure! Who can say?"

 

And so, it is left to the reader just how to handle this quandary when really what we are talking about is one's philosophical commitment to a particular frame of reference. Either evolutionary creation is true. Or it is not true. Either immediate creation is true. Or it is not. And if immediate creation is true, then how did this spontaneous process become intermixed with evolutionary progression, as evidenced throughout every area of scientific study? But here, at Relevancy22, I've been careful to set forth a straightforward evolutionary understanding of origins while also showing how this impacts the reading of Scriptures, our thoughts about God, and even ourselves. I've tried to be fair and forthcoming with questions and potential answers. But when reading articles like the one posted below, the thought "buyer beware" can only come to mind. If this is the type of theology that gives one comfort at night than who am I to argue otherwise? So be it. Feel quite at home tucked snugly into your theological bed of cotton and wool, and snore away at the world beyond your fanciful dreams. But for those of us attempting to re-orientate our minds and hearts to a better understanding of the Scriptures, of God and man, and the cosmos, please feel right at home here to continue to investigate, ask questions, and search for answers.

 

In fact, the articles written or posted to date should quite comfortably serve as guide and counselor without so much as another article needed. Why? Because the tone and direction has already been set and can only be further augmented by newer discoveries distilling what already has been written here in tenor and speech. True, more can be said. And will be as has been demonstrated across-the-board in areas of hermeneutics, biblical theism, emergent faith, biblicism, theology, church doctrines and creeds. Because this endeavor does not simply affect science and faith, but many, many other Christian thoughts and teachings as well. Which is why you are encouraged to read. To discover. To test. To think through all the many topics and issues that have been presented here. Relevancy22 is not a daily blog and should not be taken as such. No. It is biblical index containing important issues and topics that is being compiled and compounded as I have time to work through each one similar to a wikipedia-like resource for directive theology and faith.

 

Consequently there is a lot here to read and discover. And if you haven't been reading along than its simple enough to pick an area of interest and begin reading through each past article in whatever order you think can be helpful to you (my latest article may help set the tone - Thinking Through an Emergent Christianity). Because what we're talking about here doesn't simply involved just one or two issues but many, many issues, each one as inter-related to the other as the last. Which I think is yet another reason why the old-line faith of yesteryear is hesitant to embrace further development. There is just too much at stake and the artless simplicities and naivete's must drop away if one is to begin again on this new Christian journey of discovery and biblical encounter. But when you do you will be pleasantly surprised to find that there are a of host of other frustrated, perplexed, unsure Christians doing the same thing. And if not here than on other emergent blog sites (listed in the right hand column here) so that you will not be alone in this demanding task to live and enact the faith of Jesus.

 

So strap yourself in and please forgive me for my forthrightness here. It is seldom done with as much fervor as was given to it in the wee hours of this very late night. But the solution isn't to hold onto the past and wait. Time, language and culture do not wait. Rather they demand your attention. Now. Dithering simply shows indecision. Perhaps cowardice. Perhaps the lack of trust in a God bigger than ourselves. Jesus once said, "This day have I come." Let us make our Lord and Creator-God welcome in a much larger house of faith. A faith that is generous and trusts God enough to be bigger than we can imagine. I think you will be pleasantly surprised and glad that you did. However difficult it may be to re-frame your philosophical picture of the world you once thought you understood.

 

R.E. Slater

October 15, 2012

 

 

 

What Galileo's Telescope Can't See

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2012/september/what-galileos-telescope-cant-see.html?paging=off

 

There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in contemporary understandings of science and faith.

 

by James K. A. Smith

poarws September 28, 2012

 

Analogies have persuasive power, a suggestive force that operates on an almost unconscious level. To say that A is "like" B is to suggest that everything we associate with A should also be associated with B—whether good, bad, or ugly.

 

So, for example, if I describe American soldiers as "crusaders," I have just painted them with an analogical brush that colors them as religiously motivated warriors guilty of the worst bigotries of the West. The analogy is loaded with a moral depiction that exceeds what's actually said. So all the disdain we have towards our (usually caricatured) understanding of the Crusades is now overlaid on our perception of military operations in Iraq or Afghanistan.

 

Conversely, if I describe the proponents of my cause as "prophets" or "martyrs," I have loaded the perceptual deck with images of heroism and purity. Just by the analogy, we get to don our white hats and claim the moral high ground. Or if we describe our regime as "Camelot," we associate ourselves with romance and royal privilege. Never underestimate the power of an analogy. And never simply accept it.

 

 

We are all Galileans now

 

There is a particular analogy often invoked in current discussions about the relationship between Christian faith and science. Ours, we are told, is a "Galilean" moment: a critical time in history when new findings in the natural sciences threaten to topple fundamental Christian beliefs, just as Galileo's proposed heliocentrism rocked the ecclesiastical establishment of his day. This parallel is usually invoked in the context of genetic, evolutionary, and archaeological evidence about human origins that challenges traditional Christian understandings.

 

Historical analogies like this are often particularly loaded because our age is characterized by chronological snobbery and a self-congratulatory sense of our maturity and progress. Since we now tend to look at the church's response to Galileo as misguided, reactionary, and backward, this "Galilean" framing of contemporary discussions does two things—before any "evidence" is ever put on the table.

 

First, it casts scientists—and those Christian scholars who champion such science—as heroes and martyrs willing to embrace progress and enlightenment. Second, and as a result, this framing of the debate depicts those concerned with preserving Christian orthodoxy as backward, timid, and fundamentalist. With heads in flat-earth sand, any who voice hesitation or skepticism about the "assured/obvious" implications of evolutionary evidence are cast in the villainous role of Galileo's putative persecutor, Cardinal Bellarmine.

 

Seeing Beyond Science: A 'Galilean' framing of conversations on faith and science stacks the deck against the claims of faith.

 

It bears mention, of course, that the conventional Galileo narrative—pitting narrow-minded, inquisitorial clerics against a courageous champion of open scientific inquiry—partakes in large part of historical myth. Careful scholars of science and religion have come to reject this simplistic picture of church dogma stifling what today we might call "academic freedom."

 

But even if the Galileo myth was factually accurate, it should hardly supply the symbolism that governs all subsequent dialogue between theology and science. The "Galilean" framing of these conversations assumes a paradigm in which science is taken to be a neutral "describer" of "the way things are." Consequently, it treats theology as a kind of bias—an inherently conservative take on the world that has to face up to the cold, hard realities disclosed by the natural sciences and historical research. Christian scholars and theologians who (perhaps unwittingly) buy into this paradigm are often characterized by deference to "what science says." They become increasingly embarrassed by both the theological tradition and the community of believers who are not so eager to embrace scientific "progress" and an updated faith.

 

Such "Galileans" are not looking to reject the Christian faith tout court; indeed, they will often emphasize their commitment to the "essentials." In fact, they take it upon themselves to help us sift through what is, and is not, "essential." Sure, Galileo challenged our geocentric picture of the universe—which required re-reading passages of Scripture that seemed to suggest the sun revolved around the earth. But geocentrism was not "essential" to Christian faith. This is precisely why the church of Galileo's day looks so foolish now. Who among us would deny that the earth revolves around the sun?

 

You can see where this goes: Just as Galileo's telescope taught us to give up on what wrongly seemed "essential" to the faith, so today's fossil record and genetic evidences press us to give up clinging to a historical couple [sic, (Adam and Eve) - res] or a historical Fall. Apart from any assessment of the evidence or consideration of alternatives, the analogy does its own persuasive work. Do you really want to be the Cardinal Bellarmine of the future? Does anyone really want to be that guy—the one who committed himself to an "orthodoxy" that not a single Christian would later believe?

 

 

Part of the Solution

 

Christians today feel what Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor calls a "cross-pressure" on our faith: The scriptural witness seems to tell us one story about the world while evolutionary science seems to tell another.

 

But the Galileo analogy doesn't help us work through that tension because it says too much too fast. To invoke the Galileo analogy is to have already made up our minds. When we construe current debates about human origins in "Galilean" terms, we rhetorically position ourselves as if the implications of common descent were "as obvious" as the earth revolving around the sun. The Galileo analogy is a conversation stopper. It effectively suggests that resistance is futile.

 

Underneath the analogy is a more serious problem. These "Galileans" exhibit an essentially "whiggish" stance toward the theological tradition—an underlying confidence in progress and the unquestioned assumption that "newer is better." At work here is a sense that faith needs "updating," and that clinging to historic concerns and formulations is merely "conservative," as if seeking to preserve historic doctrines were just a matter of fearing change.

 

The result is that the Christian theological tradition is seen to be a burden rather than a gift that enables the Christian community to think through such challenges. The Galileans never entertain the possibility that some of our ancient theological and confessional traditions might actually be a resource in contemporary debates—a wellspring of theological imagination to help us grapple with difficult questions. Instead, they suppose that the cross-pressure between theological tradition and contemporary science can only be alleviated by "updating" the tradition. On this account, our orthodox theological heritage—including the creeds and confessions—is part of the problem rather than a valued resource for articulating a solution.

 

 

The Chalcedonian Breakthrough

 

Perhaps most glaringly, this "Galilean" framing of the conversation barely references Jesus the Galilean. Even Christian scholars operating within this paradigm tend rarely to see any implication for central Christological affirmations. Instead we get discussions of "creation" with little or no reference to Christ—as if his role in creating and sustaining the world (Col. 1:16-18) were irrelevant to conversations about "nature." But as Mark Noll argues in Jesus Christ and the Life of the Mind, Christian scholarship should not be rooted in a functional deism. Rather, the proper place for Christians to begin serious intellectual labor "is the same place where we begin all other serious human enterprises. That place is the heart of our religion, which is the revelation of God in Christ."

 

This is why Noll points to the Council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451) as one of the first encounters between the church's faith and (then) contemporary science. When Christians wrestled with questions about the Incarnation and Christ's divinity, they were grappling with the "science" of their day—paradigms of personhood and nature. In this task, the "Chalcedonian definition" of Christ's identity, which affirmed at once his full humanity and full divinity, represented a major breakthrough. By awakening imaginations to an awareness of what Noll calls "doubleness"—the possibility of apparent contradictions masking deeper harmonies—Chalcedon promoted a creative response to the conflicting testimonies of science and revelation.

 

There is a model to follow here: Early Christians mined the mysteries of the faith to grapple with the challenge of the day rather than whittling down what's scandalous to fit the expectations of the day. Guided by the Chalcedonian consensus, church leaders did not have to settle for a merely defensive or conciliatory posture. They were not reduced to looking for nooks and crannies in the reigning scientific paradigms that left room to make religious claims. Instead, their central conviction of the lordship of Christ over all creation gave them a courage and confidence to theorize imaginatively and creatively. They didn't look for ways to blunt or downplay the particularities of the gospel. Animated by the conviction that all things hold together in Christ, early Christian theologians forged new models and paradigms which we now receive as magisterial statements of the faith—the heart and soul of the "Great Tradition."

 

We 21st-century Christians have a lot to learn from our 4th-century forebears. Unfortunately, the Galilean story coddles our contemporary smugness and encourages us to look down our nose at those unenlightened generations that preceded us.

 

But unless—and until—we are willing to recognize the creative wisdom of Chalcedon, or generate any kind of sympathy for Cardinal Bellarmine, we can't have much hope for authentic Christian witness in these contested areas. Instead, contemporary conversations between faith and science will continue to be dichotomous bartering games that simply try to "update" the faith ("I'll give up original sin if you let me keep the Resurrection," etc.).

 

Chalcedon shows us otherwise. We can boldly, imaginatively, faithfully, creatively tackle the most challenging issues, secure in the conviction that all things hold together in Christ. "Thick" theological orthodoxy and serious engagement with contemporary science are not mutually exclusive. We just need to foster the Christian imagination to underwrite more creative approaches.

 

That would require, first, remembering and appreciating that the Christian intellectual tradition is uniquely "carried" in the practices of Christian liturgy, worship, and prayer. It is in the prayers and worship of the church that we are immersed in the Word and our imaginations are located in God's story. It is in worship that we are constantly invited to inhabit the conviction that all things hold together in Christ. Intentional liturgical formation must be the foundation for rigorous, imaginative, and faithful Christian scholarship.

 

Second, and relatedly, we need to approach the Christian theological heritage—rooted in the Word and articulated in the creeds and confessions of the church—as a gift, not a liability. After all, the church was wrestling with faith-science tensions well before Galileo.

 

Our sensibility (following the late Robert Webber) should be an "ancient-future" one: The church will find gifts to help it think through postmodern challenges by retrieving the wisdom of ancient Christians. The goal is not to simply repeat ancient formulations while sticking our heads in the sand; rather, the contemporary church—and contemporary Christian scholars—can learn much from the habits of mind that characterized church fathers like Athanasius and Augustine.

 

Guided by these convictions and practices, we might be less inclined to congratulate ourselves for following Galileo and more concerned with following the Galilean in whom God has reconciled all things to himself.

 

 

James K. A. Smith is professor of philosophy at Calvin College and senior fellow of the Colossian Forum on Faith, Science, and Culture (colossianforum.org). His new book, Imagining the Kingdom: How Worship Works (Baker Academic), will be published in February 2013.

 

 

 

Jesus, Women, and the Universe (and it all hangs on the Yankees)

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2012/10/jesus-women-and-the-universe-and-it-all-hangs-on-the-yankees/

 

by Pete Enns

October 7, 2012

 

I received recently advance copies of three books that look pretty darn interesting.

 

I intend to get to these books and review them here—as soon as I free up some time, which is to say, as soon as the Yankees win the World Series, or, should they lose, as soon as I am released from the hospital. In the meantime, here are the books with the publishers’ description:

 

Jesus: A Theography, by Leonard Sweet and Frank Viola (Thomas Nelson).

 

Jesus says, “The Scriptures point to me!” (John 5:39 NLT). But what does that mean exactly?

 

The twenty-seven books of the New Testament are largely a commentary on the Old Testament, and each part of the Bible is a signpost to Jesus. Once this is properly understood, everything changes, including our own identities. In this magisterial work you will discover a Jesus who is larger, more glorious, and more challenging than most of us have ever imagined.

 

Biographies of Jesus generally have been written by those trying to investigate the historical Jesus with little attention given to the grand narrative of Scripture. On the flip side, those interested in tracing the theology of Scripture are typically disinterested in historical Jesus studies. These two approaches have yet to converge…until now.

 

A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband “Master,” by Rachel Held Evans (Thomas Nelson).

 

What is “biblical womanhood” . . . really?

 

Strong-willed and independent, Rachel Held Evans couldn’t sew a button on a blouse before she embarked on a radical life experiment—a year of biblical womanhood. Intrigued by the traditionalist resurgence that led many of her friends to abandon their careers to assume traditional gender roles in the home, Evans decides to try it for herself, vowing to take all of the Bible’s instructions for women as literally as possible for a year.

 

Pursuing a different virtue each month, Evans learns the hard way that her quest for biblical womanhood requires more than a “gentle and quiet spirit” (1 Peter 3:4). It means growing out her hair, making her own clothes, covering her head, obeying her husband, rising before dawn, abstaining from gossip, remaining silent in church, and even camping out in the front yard during her period.

 

See what happens when a thoroughly modern woman starts referring to her husband as “master” and “praises him at the city gate” with a homemade sign. Learn the insights she receives from an ongoing correspondence with an Orthodox Jewish woman, and find out what she discovers from her exchanges with a polygamist wife. Join her as she wrestles with difficult passages of scripture that portray misogyny and violence against women.

 

With just the right mixture of humor and insight, compassion and incredulity, A Year of Biblical Womanhood is an exercise in scriptural exploration and spiritual contemplation. What does God truly expect of women, and is there really a prescription for biblical womanhood? Come along with Evans as she looks for answers in the rich heritage of biblical heroines, models of grace, and all-around women of valor.

 

Seven Glorious Days: A Scientist Retells the Genesis Creation Story, by Karl Giberson (Paraclete).

 

“A deeply inspiring overview of the grand epic of cosmic, biological, and cultural evolution written for Christians and grounded in scientific revelation.

 

Bravo!” ~ Michael Dowd, author of Thank God for Evolution

 

What would the biblical creation story look like if it was written today? Is it possible to view modern scientific explanations as “creation stories”? Using biblical imagery and vivid metaphors, popular author and leading science-and-religion scholar Karl Giberson (co-founder of Biologos) recasts the Genesis creation story within the framework of the latest ideas from modern science.

 

Seven Glorious Days takes the reader on a grand ride through the history of the universe from the Big Bang, to the origin of stars and planets, to the appearance of living creatures bearing the image of God. The narrative is accessible, lively and faith-affirming. Readers worried about the tension between science and religion will welcome their harmonious convergence in this timely and provocative book. 

 

 

Thoughts about "A Year of Biblical Womanhood," by Rachel Held Evans

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2012/10/thoughts-about-a-year-of-biblical-womanhood-by-rachel-held-evans/

 

by Dr. Roger Olson

October 14, 2012

Comments

 

I had planned to wait until the last week of October to review this book—as requested by the publisher. The book’s official publication date is October 30, but it is already being widely discussed and criticized by people who have received “advance reader’s copies” (like me). Some complementarian bloggers are attacking it without reading it (based on what they’ve heard about it from others who may or may not have read it). This reminds me of the brouhaha over Rob Bell’s Love Wins. I’d like to challenge people to either read the book or shut up until they’ve read it.

 

A Year of Biblical Womanhood is a delightful read—funny, sad, bewildering, shocking, thought-provoking. It’s Rachel Held Evans’ report of and reflections on attempting for one year to live as much according to biblical instructions about women, interpreted as literally as possible. She made every effort not to be selective, but to practice everything the Bible says about women’s behavior. Ironically, some complementarian bloggers are criticizing her for being insufficiently selective when they are the ones who have urged women not to be selective about conforming to biblical “standards” of womanly behavior.

 

The book’s subtitle is “How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master.” Each chapter describes her adventures as she researched specific biblical instructions both in biblical scholarship (she clearly read a lot of complementarian as well as egalitarian theology) and in practices of traditional Jewish and Christian traditions.

 

For example, the chapter entitled “April: Purity—The Worst Time of the Month to Go Camping” reports in detail on her twelve days living in a tent during and after her monthly “period.” The chapter “June: Submission—A Disposition to Yield” tells about her month of determined submission to her patient husband Dan who finally orders her to stop submitting to him! (Dan turns out to be one of the two real heroes of the story.)

 

Now I’m not going to go into much detail about the book. You should buy it and read it. And I won’t give away Evans’ big conclusion at the end of her year. (But it’s on page 294.) Instead, I’ll just mention her penchant for poking at complementarian inconsistencies and (occasional) outright nonsense. For example, on pages 253-254 she points out how John Piper and Wayne Grudem, the two founders of the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, fall into inconsistencies bordering on silliness in trying to apply 1 Timothy 2 and 1 Corinthians 11 to contemporary life.

 

Evans quotes Piper’s response to a question about popular female teachers like Beth Moore. He affirmed it’s okay for Christian men to listen to her speak unless they become too dependent on her as their “shepherd-teacher.” Evans concludes “In other words, a Christian man can learn from a Christian woman, so long as he doesn’t learn too much.” The she points out Grudem’s list of eighty-three items that a woman can and cannot do in the church. For example, “she can write a book about theology that is read at Christian colleges and seminaries, but she cannot teach theology at a Christian college or seminary herself.” (p. 254)

 

Don’t assume that Evans is snarky, though. She’s not. The tone of her book is mild and kind. Sure, she disagrees with evangelical complementarianism and is out to show its impracticality, but she doesn’t aim insults or hurl anathemas at anyone. And, you might ask, what about complementarianism’s biblicality (to use a non-word)? Well, read the book. Evans uses a lot of Scripture to show that anyone who tries to take it all literally will simply fail. She says “The Bible isn’t an answer book. It isn’t a self-help manual. It isn’t a flat, perspicuous list of rules and regulations that we can interpret objectively and apply unilaterally to our lives.” (p. 293) Also, “The Bible does not present us with a single model of biblical womanhood, and the notion that it contains a sort of one-size-fits –all formula for how to be a woman of faith is a myth.” (p. 294)

 

The model for Christian marriage is hers and Dan’s. It’s based on mutual love, respect and submission. Both seek the good of the other and of their union, not of themselves or some abstract notion of authority. In such marriages, there’s no need for complementarianism (as taught by some conservative evangelicals).

 

Needless to say, I agree with Evans whole-heartedly. But I live in a different world than she does. I have never lived in that world of “male headship” fundamentalism even though I’ve seen it—sometimes close up. I know about it. I’ve read the books and talked at great length with its advocates. I taught at the same college as Piper and Grudem, arriving only a year or two after they left. Their influence was very strong among the students, so I made it my business to learn all about their views. Eventually I met them and we had mostly cordial relations in spite of our different opinions.

 

I grew up in an evangelical subculture that abounded with strong women evangelists, pastors, teachers and leaders. Both my birth mother and stepmother were licensed, if not ordained, ministers of the gospel. Among our heroes were two independent women church planters who started churches of our denomination all over the upper Midwest. Four sons of one of them became powerful pastors and evangelists and kept their mother’s memory alive among us. Many of our denomination’s founders and leaders were saved under the ministry of Aimee Semple MacPherson. Kathryn Kuhlman was the lead convention speaker at one of our annual conventions.

 

Then I joined the American Baptist Churches, U.S.A. (ABCUSA) which ordains women and has many women pastors and leaders including presidents of the denomination. My wife and I have been members of two Baptist churches pastored by women with other female pastoral staff members. The church we attend now has more women than men deacons and the church council has been led by women frequently.

 

All that is to say that I don’t live in Rachel Held Evans’ world—at least not in the one she’s struggling with in her book. I see it and hear of it, but I stay out of it. However, I see the damage it does to young women called to ministry. They are among my students and I watch them struggle to be affirmed by their home churches and families. Often they are not affirmed.

 

I simply don’t know why anyone, especially any woman, would want to be a part of that world. My advice to them is “Come out from among them and be ye separate.” However, I know how difficult that can be. In some cases it means losing friends and even loved ones.

 

Reading Evans’ book got me wondering about other possible books with similar titles. I wish someone would write A Year of Biblical Manhood. One thing such an author would have to do, of course, is lift his hands without anger or disputing (1 Timothy 2:8). That would be hard for many conservative evangelical men to do!

 

How about A Year of Consistent Feminism? Maybe one month would be devoted to lobbying congress to change the law to require young women to register for the draft! I don’t see it happening.

How about A Year of Obeying Jesus? But then, the author would have to give away all his or her possessions to the poor.

 

As anyone who has read my blog consistently for a long time knows, I am steadfastly against so-called “complementarianism” as it is taught by leading conservative evangelicals. In a truly godly marriage there is no need of it. And it reeks of male resentment, fear and desire for control.

 

On the other hand, I’m no fan of feminism. Of course, much depends on what “feminism” means, but far too often these days it means implicit, if not explicit, belief in female superiority and requirement for men to become like women in order to be acceptable. It too often means the total obliteration of masculinity (I’m not talking about “machismo,” but non-threatening male ways of relating).

 

Some years ago I was asked to give a speech at a national gathering of egalitarian Christians. I was happy to do it. But I don’t think it benefits anyone to hear what they already believe. So I spoke on “Beyond Equality to Interdependence.” My talk was not very well received by many of the audience. I spoke about how feminist slogans like “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” are unchristian and how Christian egalitarians need to resist such anti-male attitudes. God created us male and female and we need each other. That’s true complementarianism.

 

 

Biblical womanhood: Learning to live by the good book

the Today Show, October 22, 2012

 

 

http://video.today.msnbc.msn.com/today/49501889#49501889

 

 

 

Why I like denominations

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2012/10/why-i-like-denominations/

 

by Dr. Roger Olson

October 11, 2012

Comments

 

One of the sea changes taking place in American religious life is a popular turn away from denominations. Some say we are entering, if not already in, a “post-denominational” era. Nearly all traditional denominations are struggling with membership declines and revenue shortfalls. As I put my ear to the ground of popular opinion about religion, I hear rumblings of discontent about denominational labels and behaviors and a preference for what I call “plain label” Christianity.

 

I, for one, still value denominations.

 

Before explaining, I need to define “denomination.” (1) Some sociologists of religion use the term for broad religious traditions. For example, in that usage, “Baptist” is a denomination. That’s not how I use the word. For me, “Baptist” is a tradition, a heritage, and a religious type. I think “denomination” should be reserved for religious organizations and networks of churches. (I could add synagogues, but here, for purposes of this post, I’m talking only about Christians.) By my usage “Baptist” could not be a denomination. As the old saying goes “I don’t belong to any organized religion; I’m a Baptist.”

 

So, (2) for me “denomination” refers to an organization of churches with something like a headquarters or at least some unifying structure, however informal and inchoate it may be. (For example, the Churches of Christ count as a denomination even though they have no headquarters as such. They do have a relatively cohesive structure of mutual recognition.)

 

By my definition, the Abingdon Handbook of Denominations lists and describes about 300 distinct denominations in the United States. There are more, of course, because the Handbook excludes the smallest ones and many that are restricted to a small region. Some scholars have guessed there are about 1,200 denominations in the U.S. (I suspect they are including groups of two or more churches.)

I know this will shock many people, but my attitude toward denominations is “the more the better.” Let me explain.

 

It seems to me one of the strengths of American Christianity has been its multiplicity and even diversity of denominations. That blooming, buzzing profusion (to paraphrase William James) has produced both good and bad results, but overall and in general, I judge, it has benefited American Christianity and American society as a whole.

 

For example, most colleges and universities in the U.S. were founded by denominations. So were most hospitals. Most denominations have charitable agencies that are involved in feeding the hungry, training people for jobs, community development, etc. And, of course, most have mission-sending agencies. Small churches that cannot afford to do these things (e.g., found a college or hospital or even support a missionary family) pool their resources better to do them.

 

Denominations also provide accountability for pastors and other “church professionals.” And I think that accountability works best when the authority is closer to the churches and their leaders.

 

Denominations also keep each other sharp. A certain amount of competition serves to raise the bar, so to speak, so that there is motivation constantly to update, refurbish, stay sharp (e.g., with regard to technology, training for ministry, etc.).

 

I recently interacted with a well-known ecumenical theologian who has been intimately involved with the World Council of Churches for many years. He expressed the hope of someday seeing one worldwide Christian denomination. I don’t share his hope. He portrayed the existence of multiple denominations as evidence of “brokenness” in the body of Christ. I don’t see them that way. At least the plurality of denominations does not have to evidence brokenness in the body of Christ.

 

As I have stated and explained here recently, my vision is of an ecumenism of the Spirit, not of institutions. I’m not opposed to denominations merging, unless that means the sacrifice of important particularities and a lowering of standards of belief and practice to a “least common denominator” in which robust belief and practice get lost (e.g., “generic Christianity”).

 

Some people assume (and I think this was the case with the ecumenical theologian) that the very existence of separate denominations equates with hostility and exclusion. I don’t see those as necessary at all. Where they exist, yes, they are to be overcome. Dialogue is the path, not throwing off particularities and distinctives in favor of a bland, generic spirituality and/or social ministry.

 

There is no reason why denominations cannot worship and work together while maintaining their institutional lives. There is no reason why separate denominations must harbor or express hostility toward each other. They don’t even have to be exclusive. In my opinion, “ecumenism” should aim at mutual understanding and cooperation. Beyond that, I hope, through ecumenical work, that all Christians might someday enjoy intercommunion. But “visible and institutional unity” is not necessary for that. Nor, in my opinion, is it even a good goal.

 

Imagine a worldwide Christian church (denomination). It would have to have a hierarchical structure of some kind. It would have to somehow blend Christians together in a way that would require the muting of distinctive voices. Inevitably, also, it would leave out some Christians because they don’t fit the worldwide church’s standards for unity.

 

Here’s an example of that. The ecumenical theologian argued that Baptists, for example, ought to recognize the infant baptisms of other denominations as legitimate Christian baptisms. Okay, that’s not likely to happen, but I understand where he’s coming from. Or I thought I understood. I don’t mind hearing a challenge like that. But, then, he held up for me (and others listening) a model of ecumenicity in which a church body decided to open the Lord’s Supper to all Christians except unbaptized children. Note—for him, baptized children could partake of the Lord’s Supper but not not-yet baptized children. In effect, he was suggesting that Baptists give up their distinctive insofar as it excludes other Christians but other denominations should not accommodate to Baptists’ beliefs! Imagine two families considering joining the church he described. One family has baptized children, but the other family comes from a baptist-like background in which the children have not yet been baptized. The first family’s children can partake of the Lord’s Supper, but the second family’s children cannot. How is that a triumph for ecumenicity?

 

My point is that, even this great ecumenical theologian seems blind to what would have to happen in order to achieve a world church. Some traditions’ distinctive would have to be slighted. Some tradition’s distinctive would have to “win,” so to speak. In my experience, nearly all these “world church” ecumenical thinkers envision a reformed papacy and magisterium. As one of them once said to me (he was a Lutheran ecumenist) “If the pope would just admit he’s not infallible we could join the Catholic Church.” Fine. Maybe he, as an ELCA minister and theologian, could. But how could Free Church Christians? How could baptists (of all kinds)? How could Pentecostals? In my opinion, this one world church ideal is not ideal at all—except for Catholics and closet Catholics.

 

My vision of ecumenism is all Christian denominations agreeing to worship together (on occasion), cooperate together (e.g., in charitable endeavors), and even admit one another to the Lord’s Table.

 

Now, there’s another reason for disdaining denominations that’s popular among younger Christians. It’s what’s generally meant by “post-denominationalism.” Many young Christians consider denominations old fashioned, divisive, top heavy, always embroiled in controversies, etc. They prefer what I call “plain label” churches, often newly founded, meeting in rented spaces, grassroots-oriented, etc. My observation, though, is that these churches tend to be too inclusive and lack proper emphasis on Christianity’s experiential and cognitive aspects. They tend to emphasize community.

 

The motto is sometimes “Belong, believe, behave” or “Belong, behave, believe.” But moving from “belong” to the other “b’s” doesn’t always happen. Many such churches stress community to the exclusion of strong beliefs and moral expectations (out of fear of dogmatism and legalism).

 

I sympathize with this youth-oriented movement, but I fear their Christianity may, like that of the “big ‘E’ ecumenists,” be bland, with no cutting edge to it. Sometimes, it seems, they are reinventing Christianity which means they are likely to make the same mistakes older Christian churches have made (and perhaps some newer ones).

 

For years, whenever I traveled (and I still do it), I got out the phone book in the hotel room and looked at the headings under “Churches” in the Yellow Pages. All across the country the list of churches under “Non-denominational” has grown. Now that is one of the longest lists in most places. What’s ironic, however, is that, as an aficionado of denominational histories and identities, I recognize many denominational churches under that heading! How honest is that? To be “non-denominational” or even “post-denominational” and belong to a denomination? To promote your church as non-denominational or to tout post-denominationalism and be denominational? And yet it happens all the time.

 

Personally, I struggle with “plain label” churches. When I see a church sign or ad that contains no hint of the church’s denominational affiliation or identity I assume one of two things. Either it is (1) genuinely independent, non-denominational, or (2) it is hiding its denominational affiliation to appeal to post-denominational people. Often it’s the latter. (I know because I often look them up on the web and find their denominational affiliation.)

 

A good example (but only one of too many to name or describe) is a large church in a city to which I travel often. I pass it several times a year. It’s a large, beautiful church in a suburban neighborhood. Its sign says simply “Calvary Church.” I finally remembered to look it up using a search engine. It’s a member church of the Christian Reformed Church of America. Nothing I could see on the building or grounds indicated that. (Many have “CRC” or something on their signs.)

 

So, what’s wrong with that? Only that the CRC is a truly confessional denomination with distinctive beliefs and practices. One of its doctrinal standards is the Canons of Dort—the anti-Arminian statement of faith. Suppose a Wesleyan family (I mean doctrinally, not denominationally) moved to that suburb, liked the looks of the church, heard it is a good church (family-oriented, many programs for kids, whatever) and decided to visit with an eye toward joining the church. How long would it be before they realized they were visiting and considering joining a Calvinist church? I personally know of such situations and, in some cases, people have attended a long time before realizing the church they want to join holds beliefs contrary to their own. In the end, they have to leave, having wasted a lot of time and emotional investment.

 

I think every church that belongs to any denomination should say so “up front.” Failing to do so seems somewhat dishonest to me. And truly non-denominational churches should make their beliefs and distinctive practices known to visitors with a brochure in every pew.

 

I once saw a church that advertised itself as “The Undenominational Church.” (This was back when 7-UP was advertising itself as the “UNCOLA.” I found out the “undenominational” church was really a Church of Christ.

 

Every church has boundaries; every church should let visitors and their communities know what they are by making them readily available.

 

What is happening (that I’ve been talking about in the previous few paragraphs) is simply cultural accommodation in a bad way. Church growth experts are telling churches that most American’s don’t like denominations and encouraging them to re-name their churches with generic names (e.g., Faith Family Fellowship) and omit any reference to any denominational affiliation or distinctive beliefs and practices. In most cases, the churches that do it keep their denominational affiliations and/or distinctive practices but hide them. In my opinion that is nothing other than cultural accommodation involving an element of dishonesty. As we have all heard, “lying” is not just telling an untruth; it can also be neglecting to tell the truth.

 

So, I titled this post “Why I like denominations.” I’ve wandered away from that somewhat, but I’ll conclude by returning to it. Christian churches do have distinctives; there is no such thing as (organized) generic Christianity. They ought to be honest about them. If they’re not proud of them, drop them. But better, be proud of the ones you keep! Distinctives do not have to be divisive. In fact, I like the fact that there are: Wesleyans, Calvinists, Pentecostals, Baptists, Anabaptists, Lutherans, Catholics, etc. I often wish some of them would soften their rough edges, but, for the most part, they are already doing that and sometimes going so far that they are losing all shape. When I see a church that is proud of its denominational affiliation I suspect it is giving money to help found institutions of higher education, mission-sending agencies, charitable organizations, etc. And I know what it is; I’m not left in the dark about it. May their tribe increase.


 

Thinking Through a Post-Modern, Post-Evangelic Christianity

Lord of the Harvest

In my spare time this past year-and-a-half I have been working through a newer, more relevant form of theology to help deepen the poems I wish to someday bring to life. Under the web blog title of Relevancy22 I have taken both an academic and contemporary approach to the issues of the day that have unnecessarily narrowed the Christianity I grew up with. One that would write of a wider breadth of faith that is less constricted by conservative boundaries and barriers, and more centered in Jesus, if possible. A kind of post-evangelic Christianity which in its own way is a more moderate, or progressive, form of evangelical Christianity that has become politically unbalanced by rightist, conservative issues which have marginalized the church's message and ministry. And in the process politicized the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ to our postmodern, 21st Century, pluralistic, and multi-cultural societies. Societies we struggle to live within given the many incidents of civil warfare and terroristic atrocities witnessed globally between religious, ethnic, and ideological temperaments, rather than seeing the good, the beautiful, the helpful within our human differences.

For myself, I don't pretend to live in the failed eras of yesteryear. Nor to pursue the enlightened, late=modernism issues of the 50s and 60s by revisionistic historical practices (from either side of the political aisle). Mostly because I firmly believe that today's Christian faith can be as vital now as it was fifty years ago without having to artificially create invasive thought-barriers and protective screens to shield the church's faithful from the dialectic events bombarding us in contemporary society. That the life of Jesus was one of action combined with a broadening-out of Jewish theology, itself become constricted and divisive in His day of revelatory illumination. That our actions count as much as our words. That seeing the value of human life is more important than clinging to the traditions of a rich, and faithful church heritage, itself become insular to the criticisms and humanitarian needs of the 21st Century. That the human faith must allow for the majesty and mystery of God while doubting the foibles and wisdom of man. Especially as considering God's love as the prime motivator in our Creator-Redeemer's communion with man (and the cosmos) in everything He has done - and is now doing - within our expanding worlds of knowledge and industry and societal evolution.

Consequently, I have spent many recent days and nights digesting the current affairs of Christian theology and practice, and have re-positioned those issues alongside the thoughts and actions of fellow Christian contemporaries excited by the same possibilities as myself of a newer, more gracious form of faith than presently being discussed or practiced. Along the way I have contributed what articles I could to this emerging discussion through personal insight and experience to help lend vocal support to those fellow "miscreant" theologs that my conservative branch of Christianity has purposely flagellated - or worse, ignored - in its struggle to update itself while embracing the unknown, the feared, the obvious and the unavoidable. So that in my first six months of blogging I began unsure of myself as writer and commentator, but passionate to the burden placed upon my heart, by adopting the pseudonym skinhead (which in hindsight more probably indicated mine own personal de-construction at the time) until feeling surer of myself to hazard my name to that signatory list of evolving practitioners and writers, elocutioners and philosophers, poets and minstrels. I find that I write best in prose but have attempted during that same time to duplicate the more pedantic form of my officiously ranked brethren to help readers along who, with me, wish to investigate the root forms, and basal energies, of their faith. What poetry I have attempted (and in truth it has been very limited) is written hastily to match the temperament of the article of that day's contribution or edition. And usually, I save my best prose for the concluding portions of that day's posting trusting the diligent reader to better appreciate its words when having first read through the opening structures of the ensuing proposition and juxtaposed teaching.

Overall, I have not so much personally blogged as to try to create more of a timeless biblical index to what I consider an emerging, post-modern form of theology and practice in need of definition, sorting-out, and topical discussion. One that can appreciate the contributions of the church's past creeds and confessions, beliefs and practices of yesteryear, but is willing to move beyond any current misconceptions or misrepresentations of the bible. Or even the faith of the faithful seeking cultural acclamations rather than the biblical charter and precedence shown to us by the prophets of earlier times struggling with their own generation of well-meaning religious priests and temple'd guardians. An emerging faith which has come to understand that "the human language is both a problem and a gift" - a problem because we wish to make it so mathematic-like. So precise and formal when it is anything but that (credit the Enlightenment for this effort of definitive syllogism and logistical precision found in Evangelical Christianity's popularly acclaimed systematic theologies of today). And a gift, because through it we may use all the forms of human language and human presence to speak of God - whether poetically, or musically; in chants or in liturgical practice; or non-verbally by our actions, body-language, and symbolic usage (art, film, etc).

But to also understand that "last year's words belong to last year's language, and next year's words are awaiting another voice" as one youth had expressed it to me. And by that means help each generation through its own concerns and frames of reference that must be addressed if it is to evolve into its own habitats, expressions, cares and concerns. That if we don't learn to speak to one another between our generations - from old to young, and young to old - than we will instead speak past one another. To be aware that the Christian faith is meant to be expanded and stretched past any previous thought categories and semantic definitions into newer thought forms and meanings (Jesus showed us that in the Gospels, even as His disciples and the old guard of Judaism struggled with the same). This is because language itself can be both time-bound to the generation it lives within, as well as timeless to the generations to come. To recognize that human language bears a fluidity, or metamorphosing ability, which allows for its continual reconstitution and reconfiguration through the many eras and societies of mankind. So that we may use this uniqueness of human communication that it might breathe and find new lands of discovery and settlement amongst a wider variety of human habitat and mental conception. That how we might "think" in our people groups may be different from how other societies and generations "think" in their regional (and era-specific) people groups. That one is neither right nor wrong in their Christian thoughts and language. And that by this process we may better learn to communicate with one another from within our differing philosophical and cultural reference points without feeling threatened that our Christian faith is under attack every time we do. For me, Emergent Christianity is just this. No more and nor less. And because it is a different animal from the more popular Evangelical Christianity I grew up within, it gets undeservedly bad press because of its different look-and-feel when it is simply learning to speak to younger generations more attuned to their own issues and era-specific needs.

Or, in another sense, we might say "it is of no use to going back to yesterday's voice (or being) because I was a different person then." And by this learn to appreciate and recognize the epistemologic and existential (e/e) growth of a person as experience catches up with the age of our time-worn souls and personhood. I feel I have gone through a minimum of three personal revisions to myself. As example, I began life within a pre-modern enclave of farming families carrying on the deep traditions of their remembered past (from the mid- to late- 1800s) even as they were trying to absorb the industrial, World War 1 and 2 eras of the early- to mid- 1900s. They began as homesteading families to the wilderness areas of West Michigan when black bear and aboriginal natives were still common to the land. My brothers and I were the sixth generation of a farming lifestyle quickly going out of existence (as well as inheritors to a Scandinavian heritage newly come to America from the "Old Country"). And with it, all the ingrained traditions and agrarian practices of the past. We were left out-of-time and out-of-place with a modern day world of public schooling, gas and electricity, TV, music and an encroaching urban lifestyle far more diverse than our own. And when entering university during the upheaval of the Vietnam War era with its civil unrests, angry riots, peace sit-ins, Hippie and LSD drug experimentation, and societal turmoils, I struggled for many years to "adopt" this strange new land I found myself within. But which later caused me to seek a bible school environment which held  the stability I found I needed, along with familiar values to my own remembered background. And yet, over the years I have learned to wean myself away from these (e/e) dependencies and to finally make the leap these past dozen years or so towards a more metropolitan way of thinking. So that in a way, its been my third revision of myself, though more probably, my older soul still lives deep within my fractured being as I have become more accepting of contemporary change. And by nature, am predisposed to understand the change I am confronted with, not being content to simply allow it to haunt my pysche without pursuing its causes, permutations, dissatisfactions, and general disorders.

And yet, this deconstructive process has given me hope that through personal adjustments, whether small or great (however personally painful or disorientating to friends and family), our God may arightly affect both ourselves and succeeding generations to become fuller participants in this precious life we have been given - and daily seem to fail - when coming to embrace it as fully, or completely, as we might. To receive each day with thanksgiving. And to learn to behave ourselves more wisely with one another through the service of our gifts and talents, strengths and weaknesses. And at the last, to allow for the mystery and majesty of life itself through Jesus our Lord and Saviour. That yes, language can be a problem, but it can also be a gift, as we accept the fact that we must grow in our communicational strengths with those unlike ourselves (and perhaps in as much turmoil as we have experienced). And by this communication allow it to bind us into a stronger, healthier society of men and women that might celebrate our differences while seeing those differences as the key to a brighter future not fraught with warfare, hate, fear, and distrust. May this then be our prayer. Our practice. Our desire. And in all things may we learn to share the grace of God with one another. To allow God's grace to become a vital part of our language with one another... and even within our very selves matriculating with age and experience to adopt God's love and forgiveness within our own lives and livelihood. Family structures and friends. Communities, churches, and workplace.

R. E. Slater

October 13, 2012

Relevancy22 - Post-Evangelic Christianity: Topics and Theology

by R.E. Slater

 
http://relevancy22.blogspot.com/



The Poetry of R.E. Slater


http://reslater.blogspot.com/



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Index to past articles on "An Open Faith and Open Theology"

Number of Protestant Americans Is in Steep Decline, Study Finds



A cross-shaped window inside South Calvary Baptist Church in Indianapolis, Indiana

Chris Bergin for The New York Times
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/10/us/study-finds-that-the-number-of-protestant-americans-is-declining.html?_r=1

by Laurie Goodstein
Published: October 9, 2012

For the first time since researchers began tracking the religious identity of Americans, fewer than half said they were Protestants, a steep decline from 40 years ago when Protestant churches claimed the loyalty of more than two-thirds of the population.

 

A new study released on Tuesday by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that it was not just liberal mainline Protestants, like Methodists or Episcopalians, who abandoned their faith, but also more conservative evangelical and “born again” Protestants. The losses were among white Protestants, but not among black or minority Protestants, the study found, based on surveys conducted during the summer.

 

When they leave, instead of switching churches, they join the growing ranks who do not identify with any religion. Nearly one in five Americans say they are atheist, agnostic or “nothing in particular.”

 

This is a significant jump from only five years ago, when adults who claimed “no religion” made up about 15 percent of the population. It is a seismic shift from 40 years ago, when about 7 percent of American adults said they had no religious affiliation.

 

Now, more than one-third of those ages 18 to 22 are religiously unaffiliated. These “younger millennials” are replacing older generations who remained far more involved with religion throughout their lives.

 

“We really haven’t seen anything like this before,” said Gregory A. Smith, a senior researcher with the Pew Forum. “Even when the baby boomers came of age in the early ’70s, they were half as likely to be unaffiliated as compared with young people today.”

 

The “Nones,” as they are called, now make up the nation’s second-largest religious grouping. The largest single faith group is Catholics, who make up about 22 percent of the population. Their numbers have held steady, mostly because an influx of immigrants has replaced the many Catholics who were raised in the church and left in the last five years, Mr. Smith said.

 

The rise in people who claim no religion is likely to have political consequences, said Phil Zuckerman, a professor of sociology and secular studies at Pitzer College in Southern California.

 

“The significant majority of the religiously unaffiliated tend to be left-leaning, tend to support the Democratic Party, support gay marriage and environmental causes,” he said.

 

The Pew report offers several theories to explain the rise of the religiously unaffiliated. One theory is that the young adults grew disillusioned with organized religion when evangelical Protestant and Catholic churches became so active in conservative political causes, like opposition to homosexuality and abortion.

 

Another theory is that the shift merely reflects a broader trend away from social and community involvement, the phenomenon dubbed “bowling alone” by Robert D. Putnam, a public policy professor at Harvard University.

 

Another explanation is that the United States is simply following the trend toward secularization already seen in many economically developed countries, like Australia and Canada and some in Europe.

 

The United States has always been the great exception to this secularizing trend, and it is not clear that Americans are necessarily moving toward the European model.

 

The Pew report found that even among Americans who claimed no religion, few qualified as purely secular. Two-thirds say they still believe in God, and one-fifth say they pray every day. Only 12 percent of the religiously unaffiliated group said they were atheists and 17 percent agnostic.

 

The Rev. Eileen W. Lindner, who has chronicled religious statistics for years as the editor of the Yearbook of American and Canadian Churches, has observed this complexity.

 

She said, “There will be lots of people who read this study and go: ‘Oh no, this is terrible! What’s it doing to our culture?’ I would, as a social scientist and a pastor, urge caution.

 

“A lot of the younger people are very spotty in their attendance at worship, but if we have a mission project, they’re here,” said Ms. Lindner, the pastor of a Presbyterian church in New Jersey. “They run the soup kitchens, they build the houses in Habitat for Humanity.”

 

They may not come on Sundays, she said, but they have not abandoned their faith.