Cornel West Speaks Out re Martin Luther King's Meaning of "I Have a Dream" for America

Cornel West Explains Why It Bothers Him
That Obama Will Be Taking The Oath
Published on Jan 20, 2013
January 19, 2013 C-SPAN



Dr. Cornel West - Government can be Oppressive

Clipped from: Tavis Smiley Presents Poverty in America, Jan 17, 2013

Dr. West gives a passionate speech about governments' love for power, and the fact of government oppression. MLK could have been jailed without due process under the NDAA or killed without due process under the present administration

Wikipedia Biography - Cornel West

Cornel Ronald West (born June 2, 1953) is an American philosopher, academic, activist, author and prominent member of the Democratic Socialists of America. West is a 1973 graduate of Harvard University and received his Ph.D. at Princeton University. He is currently a professor of African American Studies at Princeton and of Religious Philosophy and Christian Studies at the Union Theological Seminary in New York.

The bulk of his work focuses on the role of race, gender, and class in American society and the means by which people act and react to their "radical conditionedness." West draws intellectual contributions from multiple traditions, including: the black church, Marxism, pragmatism, and transcendentalism.

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Historical Background: Wikipedia - I Have A Dream


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MLK's Address in Washington, D.C.

August 28, 1963

17 minutes

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

Audio mp3 of Address

http://ia700402.us.archive.org/29/items/MLKDream/MLKDream_64kb.mp3

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[AUTHENTICITY CERTIFIED: Text version below transcribed directly from audio. (2)]

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³

- Martin Luther King, Washington D.C., August 28, 1963

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

 

 

When Cute Little Bunnies Talk Theology

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/01/when-cute-little-bunnies-talk-theology/

 

by Pete Enns

January 11, 2013

Comments 

 

Though himself neither cute nor a bunny, my friend James McGrath over at Exploring Our Matrix has posted this ever-so-cute response to creationism by the two ever-so-cutest stuffed bunnies you’ll ever want to see.

 

Of course, the point of this bunny dialogue is applicable not just to creationism but to other issues of theological disagreement where the familiarity and safety of an “authoritative tradition” collides with thoughtful and needed exploration that challenges that authority.

 

And, no, I’m not saying tradition is always wrong and exploration is always right. Sheesh. I’m saying that, well, gosh….if I have to explain, you’re the bunny in the dress and you wouldn’t get it any way.

With that, I give you… the bunnies.

 

 

Think Outside The Box

(The Cutest Response to Creationism Ever!)

by James McGrath

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Related Articles by Pete Enns -

 

3 Ways I Would Like to See Evangelical Leaders Stop Defending The Bible

 

 

 

 

3 Things I Would Like to See Evangelical Leaders Stop Saying about Biblical Scholarship

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cometh the End of Days in Postmodernism's Deconstructive Light

If the subject matter immediately following is unlike what you had hoped, then good. Welcome to the world of postmodernism. You have now entered into the wild, wacky world of postmodernism. For that was my experience not many years hence where my expectations did not match the reality of what I would soon discover. It will push at you from a lot of different places, sometimes making you uncomfortable, at other times confused, and even downright bothered, and all the while making you want to give up and return to the simpler worlds that you once inhabited and thought you understood.

In my journey (because postmoderns must always speak of their journey) I've gone through a wide range of emotions until finally learning that it was my own background that worked against me, instead of for me. It was a painful transition which I now think (had I not made it) would've held me back for the rest of my life, confining me to personal spaces I should not be living within, nor able to personally grow within. I suppose there were many factors that contributed to its occurrence in my life beyond the ones I shall talk about here in this present discussion.

It began formally when I finally admitted to myself that I had to ask the question of why my Evangelical faith had become so conflicted between what I believed and what I was observing in the church fellowships and organizations I was familiar with. Having noticed trends in both church and theology that were highly conflicted. Trends that needed better questions, and certainly a lot better answers if it were possible. And then, somewhere along the way, over the past generation or two of my lifetime, I found myself moving at a different pace from my more comfortable, very structured, past. Its internal drift was growing by the day and required some little investigation along with some mighty large answers that, if they couldn't be answered, at least needed a better place to land.

The other thing I noticed was that the emergent Christian fellowship I was joined to were also experiencing similar growth pains of movement and barrier, centrality and definition. For it's seekers were dealing with questions of what a follower of Jesus might expect in a lifetime of familiar and unfamiliar experiences, resulting from deeply personal upheaval, unwanted and unsought. For I know of no one purposely seeking directional change in life without some sort of catalyst to get it all started. And for me it was the catalyst of being out of sync with the cultures around me - mine own, my friends, the church, and with society at large. It was more than simply living as a Christian with all its fundamental differences. No, this was something else completely different.

My earlier, evangelical-period of life, marked completion of academic training from a large, well-known university during the end of America's Vietnam War. A bloody war whose ravages laid everywhere about the campus and society - from the cruel sacrifices of America's sons and daughters, family and friends, to institutional breakdowns, civil race riots, rampant drugs, sit-ins, and "peace" rallies of despair, hate, and conflict. All of which had come to my "Berkley of the Midwest" making it a microcosm of the moiling turmoils and deep strife found within the nation at large as I walked everywhere upon its campus. And as I pursued my studies in science, mathematics, engineering, humanities, and language, the hot cauldrons of deconstruction boiled over into the hallowed halls of academia, its grand dorms, civic life, and all things in between. The academic setting I had imagined were in deep conflict with what was being  personally experienced, so that after three years of nearly daily turmoil my heart, mind, and soul, were no longer at peace. My grades were slipping and I could no longer concentrate on the reasons that brought me here. I had become weary of contending the daily battles of atheism in all its ragged forms of deep despair and angled bleakness. And all the while, was discovering in my Christian witness and sustaining fellowships a need for more formal biblical studies than I could discover on mine own. I wasn't sure how to discern the mind-and-mood altering affects of the epistemological deconstruction witnessed about me, so that after three long years of absorbing godlessness and despair, and nearing my final two semesters of study in advance mathematics, I applied to a small, fundamental/evangelical college much to my family's dismay. All their hopes and dreams vanished overnight for me with that application. And I suppose a little bit of myself had died as well.

Before all this, I was raised in an isolated farming region that quickly was losing its past 150 years of  pioneering history and becoming overrun with the spreading blight of urbanization. Many of the old timers I remembered seeing and visiting with were quickly passing away. And the mangled social  interconnectedness that a  once futile land brought to our farming communities was fast disappearing. From my perspective, farming families were uniquely bound to the land in very similar ways to that of the native American Indian we had displaced. With the exception that our spirituality was disconnected from it, though in another sense, it too grew from the land we loved and found rebirth. Without the land and its heritage we had no identity. And with it we had no income. So that from around the start of the 20th century farming families began to find work off the land wherever they could. And as they did, so also began the educational "uplift" of time honored stories, superstitions, legends and folklores (or, was it the cultural lost of the same that I was observing in my small childhood?) Whatever it was, I could sense even then the conflict between the clash of very old worlds lost upon the newer altars of enlightenment and revered modernism. And in this way, the pioneers of the old days, and the old ways, had grown in companionship to the native American Indians of old, who too had lost their ancient traditions, time-honored customs, and land-bound heritages. The tie that bound was one of deconstruction. Ever faithful. Ever present. Ever disruptive.

In any event, as industry and urbanization spread, relatives and farming families began to leave the land of its heritage for the factory floors and business offices of the city. So that by the time I was raised, what then remained to me were the dusty shrouds of ancient artifacts hanging from the rafters of our failing, hand-hewn, post-and-beam, red-painted barns still seated upon their crumbling foundations. Or beheld in the rusted, empty stanchions of a dilapidated and crumbling milk house once vibrantly warm and alive with the life blood, and odorous manured stench, of fat dairy herds on a cold winter's morn. Closed in to the colours of the rising sun, and noisily ganged together eating underneath the stray coverlets of dimmed 40-watt light bulbs sparsely hung from the heavily strawed rafters seeping from double planked floor above. Or seen in the overworked and fallowing fields bounded by sagging barbed wire and disintegrating driftwood fencing. Once holding flowing fields of wheat and hay under a hot summer sun's risen heats, stained with the sweaty odors of working men dutifully labouring beside oiled remnants of mechanized machinery straining in the faraway turns and bends of distant fields, hearing the scrape of metal upon metal upon ungiving ground.

As well, my little one-room school house was in its last generation (my brothers and I we were the fifth, and last) of a long legacy of great uncles and great aunts. Since the age of 5 we learned to walk the fields and cross the broken fencelines between vigilant stray dairy herds ever watchful of our guarded, early morning crossings. Holding tin lunch pails in our  small hands, and wet up to our knees in the tall morning grasses, we marched faithfully day-after-day to learn about worlds to come. Sitting in our wooden, flip-top desks, in crowded aisles and rows ushering 19 other children more worldly wise than ourselves. Who lived in the "city" and not on the land of their birth. Listening to the wooden floor creak underneath the step of every waif, and feeling the billowing breeze of uplifted curtains flowing above the high shelves of very tall windows. There, in front, looking upon us was Lincoln and Washington, and with these great men we stood to present our daily lessons to the only grand teacher I would ever know (spare one many years later). Loving, kind, patient. Our link to a wider world of grandeur. And paean to our future. Too soon would come the public school fast looming on the horizon like the vista of our little school beheld in the early mornings. To which sixth grade was my induction into its darkened labyrinths and stonewalled dungeons. And with it, the age of modernized education commenced leading to a later university training that would take me far afield to an infinite degree beyond what once was old and familiar. A place were radically new, and turbulent ideas, imprisoned the land of my heritage, and its distant spirits, to another time and era. At once unfamiliar, and breaking apart at the seams, by its own undoing and destructions. For this was the heady era of glorious modernism which was all hail and fury. A fury that undid its charms and made me long for the better days of youth and mystery. Adventure and wonder. A youth unclaimed until modernism died by its own hands, and with it came the promise of a postmodern future more alive with the wonders of an ancient past lost.

Years earlier, at the age of eleven, I became a Christian. It was a significant event that still stands clear in my mind on a late summer's Sunday eve after hearing the gospel of Jesus and what it meant to me in personal terms of salvation. Having followed my Sunday School teacher's instructions to pray the believer's prayer that night around 8 o'clock just before bedtime, I went down the hallway to tell my mom, deeply engrossed in knitting and darning, patching and sewing. After which, to rest, she would play a new upright piano to the deeply glorious strains of the classics, black-noted upon the thick pages of her music books, remembering the days of her stage performance downtown at the Royce Auditorium. When telling mom of my prayer, she absently replied that that was nice and wished me lovingly off to bed for early school the next day. Which was about the extent of my Christian upbringing. We went to a Baptist church in the city many miles away once a week on Sunday. And occasionally that same church sent out a faithful country preacher to our little school house to share flannel graph lessons of Bible stories with us. It was a steadily growing community of warm believers, filled with warm ministries, to both children and community. Dad grew up there and mom started to attend when they married, leaving her Swedish/Lutheran background behind for a Scot/English one. She once told me the Lutheran hymns she sang as a  child made more sense to her in dad's Baptist church. Even so, during a length of several summers, I remember receiving "catechism" from mom's Lutheran church, experiencing the grand music and worship  of its massive sanctuaries and organ-strewn pipes held against the walls in silvery runs everywhere I looked. At our simpler Baptist church we had devotional Sunday School lessons in children's church, sang occasionally for the congregation, and in time, when coming of age, were allowed to attend "big church". There, we were to sit quietly. Listen. And try not to fuss too much under dad's ever diligent eye (learned in the trade of the police after coming back from the lines of the DMZ in Korea). Or bother those around us, as we sat in the hardened, smoothed pews of the backmost row, with my uncle's family (always to the left), and a blonde-headed girl ahead, sitting quite contentedly with her family, to my curious adoration and wonder (something my brothers and I seemed always to struggle with!)

After graduating from bible college I taught for a brief year out-of-state at a high school (a church school no less) and then returned with mixed feelings of whether to begin seminary education. My interest was still in biblical studies with a passing interest in pastoring (which both did, and didn't happen). My wife and I met, dated, married, and lived a long time without children, doing as much ministry as we could in her home church (fast becoming the city's main mega church supplanting mine own). Years past, ministries grew old, boards came and went, church families moved on, or passed away, becoming distant memories, and soon we found ourselves in our third church. A church that was birth from our past home churches and to become the city's next, newest mega-church. One that would change everything familiar, grand, and comfortable. While unknowingly to us - as well as to itself in those early days - it would soon become formed under the influences of nascent emergent Christianity. A new church movement feeling its way along a path both radical and new. Radical in that it wished to leave the failed days of modernism behind (to no dismay of mine own). And new in that the only thing to be put in modernism's place was a form of postmodernism, spun towards our religious/ideological drift and direction. It required of us a generation's worth of re-thinking what we had learned, had taught, had exampled, and must now change, much to our amazement. A change we didn't think was necessary until looking about and seeing that many Christian friends were hunkering down into staid, conservative forms of religion that felt unfamiliar to our own lively backgrounds of past university life and passionate Christian witness. Or, by those who had become road kill from Christian churches who said they didn't fit into the proscribed religious lifestyles and beliefs it held. Or, were simply overlooked in the busyness of life where careers, jobs, and wealth accumulation mattered most to the congregants of the church. At which point this "emergent" Christianity began to make sense, identifying as it were with our own turbulent past, and personal mandate, for Jesus-first ministry. So we stayed, learned to adapt, and worked through (yet once again) another formidable period of change (at least my third in a lifetime of fluid, and flexible, deconstructive boundaries).

Consequently, it is important to me to know how the evangelical churches and institutions that I was familiar with - where I found nurture and support - were likewise being affected by the same changes I was personally experiencing. I would like to know just what had occurred during those years between my graduation from seminary until now, a generation later, that would place me in the position of finding myself writing about a postmodern faith. An emergent faith requiring new thought tools, a more contemporary theology, and a more radical mission deployment, that my older faith had not given to me. A faith that would create a renewed focus upon Jesus, and His kingdom, and cause all things related to Jesus to be cruciform, and incarnational, in ministry and worship. That wishes to "work" its faith as much as "speak" its faith. And to understand how it is different - radically different! - from my own fundamental and evangelical past. And yet, not unlike my own past, where Jesus came in to my life and made all things radically new. Reinvisioning new worlds. New thought forms. New methodologies. New insights and practices. New embracements of a wider world. A wider culture. A wider global appreciation for those different from myself. Where the old wineskins of my earlier faith could no longer hold the new wine of  Jesus' postmodern gospel. And even though I didn't know it at the time, I needed the new wineskin of Emergent Christianity to move on with Jesus into relevancy to the world today.

Certainly it was confusing. And chaotic. Because how many times does one go through a 500 year seismic change in the history of the church? The early Remonstraters once did in the Age of the Reformation. And before that, those followers of Jesus did during the collapse of the old Roman, and later Ottoman, Empire. And before that, those early Jewish Christians did with the advent of Christ into their Old Testament Jewish religion. Even so, is the church of the early 21st century undergoing such a change. Reconfiguring from its formerly understood self, having worn for too long the outdated garments of Enlightenment and Modernism, while hesitantly looking at the newest runway apparels and designs from New York and Paris' latest fashions of deconstruction and postmodernism. The music has changed. The politics and economics have changed. The cities are growing to mega-proportions. The climate and ecology of the Earth has changed (what massive glaciers I once walked in my youth have disappeared). Man's scars and marks is on everything organic and structural. Our wars and disagreements have changed. Even our lifestyles have changed.

So then, it is of no surprise that our Christian faith must change. And will change. And will never be like itself from one era to the next. From one generation to the next. If it doesn't then the gospel of God in Jesus will have no relevance unless we learn to break down the barriers we seem to constantly placed upon it.  And to stop thinking we are diluting the Gospel by allowing relevant change to occur. To trust that there will be enough relevant theologians working within the fabric of society to help keep to the ancient faith without fear of losing it. While learning to accept it's more relevant expressions and forms of outreach, ministry, and mission. Count on it. For it must be so, even as there will ever be constants within the Christian faith of old. That will be assured through the patient study, and presentation, of the Bible into every era of mankind at the ever faithful hands of God.

Nay, God has not forsaken His church. Quite the contrary.... He is powerfully working within our midst calling to repentance, reform, revival, renewal, reincarnation, even resurrection. Do not make the error of the Scribes and Pharisees by calling God's redemptive work within humanity that of the devil, and putting to death the Son of Life. Jesus came to bring life. Not death. Learn to trust God and to distrust ourselves. It is  how the Spirit works by calling all afresh to hear God's holy name. Be at peace and rest in this knowledge.  You are not forsaken. Nor has your ancient faith been abandoned. Simply challenged to become relevant in its mission and message.

And so, not unlike Jesus, I've felt that we've entered into a long line of dissembling eras just as the church of yesteryear had until an Augustine, or a Luther, or a Calvin, stood up and spoke out, declaring new practices, new worship styles, new theology, new dogma. Even now is that occurring again - as hard as it is to entertain or comprehend. And this time by not only figureheads but by the masses of believers themselves as they serve, and work, and witness of Jesus each day around this nation, and this earthly globe.

For we have entered into that long line of "the first and the last" - the "first" to enter into new eras unsought and unwanted. And the "last" to leave the ruins of a crumbling past and precious memories to be forgotten in the long ruins of a more ancient, more distant past. Each journey was as unknown then, as it will be now. Each filled with adventure, exploration, rebirth, and renewal. As much as with uncertainty, hardship, turmoil, and a diminishing hold to the misty moorings of an earlier time. Eh verily, I suspect there might yet be a few new lands to discover until the end of days. But through all these many journeys does God walk with us - whatever the shadows or valleys, the mountains or glades. He is there. And will be our firm assurance. Our rear guard. Our advancing scout. And ever faithful Captain of the Hosts of the Lord. 

R.E. Slater

January 16, 2013

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Defining “Evangelical”: Why It’s Necessary and Impossible

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/01/defining-evangelical-why-its-necessary-and-impossible/

by Roger Olson

January 13, 2013

Comments

Some years ago Presbyterian publisher Westminster John Knox Press asked me to write a volume for a theological handbook series. Mine was to be The Westminster Handbook to Evangelical Theology. It was published in 2004. This was one of the most labor-intensive writing projects I’ve ever undertaken and completed. In published form it contains 328 double column pages. Although it has not been one of my best-selling books (that would be Finding God in the Shack), it received good reviews including positive endorsements (published on its back cover) from Randall Balmer, Gary Dorrien, and David Bebbington.

Here is what one of my blog’s frequent visitors said of it recently:

“I am almost finished with your Westminster Handbook of Evangelicalism. Who would have thought that a handbook that is essentially a dictionary would be a great read, but I have enjoyed every entry. I think you have achieved a much better integration of the material than most dictionaries/handbooks with multiple authors. As usual, the work reflects a very ecumenical perspective without underplaying the important differences. I especially appreciated how you brought out J.I. Packer’s “paradox” view of God’s sovereignty as a kind of middle path between Calvinism and Arminianism, and I think you have clarified the precise difference between Semi-Pelagianism and Classical Arminianism as well as I have ever seen it done. Your works are all self-contained courses in themselves, and I think you have a rare talent for being able to achieve this in a truly balanced way. Most authors just seem to have to bash their opponents somewhere along the line but you never do that. Great work, Roger, and many thanks for providing these tools. They are models of clarity and balance.”

One of the reasons I accepted the publisher’s invitation and assignment was because I didn’t trust just anyone to write such a book. I feared if I didn’t do it, someone else who defines “evangelical” differently would do it! And by “differently” I don’t mean “slightly” or even “somewhat,” I mean “radically.”

As anyone who has come here frequently and long knows, there is a huge struggle over the meaning of “evangelical.” Many evangelical spokespersons and leaders desperately want to define it by putting their preferred boundaries around it so that they can control public perception of it. Many of my interlocutors have asked me very sincerely why I care about this struggle. Why not “let them have it?” (Meaning by “it” the ability to define “evangelical.”) Well, the reason is obvious to anyone inside the movement. The struggle is for the hearts and minds of influential evangelical decision makers—publishers, editors, denominational executives, college, university and seminary administrators, etc. Having been on the inside of the movement all my life and having been close to such influential people in it, I can tell you that many of the movements’ movers and shakers make decisions based largely on their perception of the meaning of “evangelical.” Is so-and-so “truly evangelical?” She might get hired or not based on that perception. He might get published or not based on it. A great deal of money flows around within evangelicalism and it flows in the direction of someone’s perceived “authentic evangelical” status. For the past fifty years students have flocked to evangelical colleges, universities and seminaries, often making their decisions based on the schools’ reputations as either evangelical or not.

I’m not saying this tendency is right; I’m just explaining why “ownership” of the label is such a battleground. “We’re more evangelical than they” (and often “than anyone else”) is the claim of many executives and administrators.

A few years ago a group of influential evangelical scholars began a several years long project to define “evangelical.” I attended some of their sessions and was at the final one where it became clear that there was no working consensus about the matter. Frustration filled the room. Why couldn’t a diverse group of evangelical scholars come to agreement about what the term means? The urgency was fueled, I believe, by the fact that many people who in times past would have called themselves “fundamentalists” were attempting to shift the center of the evangelical spectrum far to the right and even truncate the spectrum to exclude many individuals and organizations that they considered “doctrinally compromised” or “theologically liberal” (which almost always meant “influenced by neo-orthodoxy”). The session dragged on, tensions rose, there was a general feeling (I sensed, anyway) of disappointment. Then, a Lutheran scholar who had written on evangelicalism and evangelical theology stood at the very back of the room and said “I suggest that an ‘evangelical’ is anyone who loves Billy Graham’.” The room broke out in applause!

The product of that project was published as The Variety of American Evangelicalism first by the University of Tennessee Press and then, in 1991, by InterVarsity Press. The editors were North Park College and Seminary professor and provost Robert K. Johnston and Donald W. Dayton, professor of ethics at Northern Baptist Theological Seminary. (Both men moved on to other institutions since then.) The volume portrayed evangelicalism as a very large and broad tent, inclusive of a great diversity of traditions and affiliations.

Partly, I suspect, in response to those broad definitions (or descriptions) of “evangelical” and “evangelicalism,” some evangelicals began attempting to narrow those concepts down by identifying “evangelical boundaries”—as if such a large and diverse movement could be confined within walls. Many wanted to identify inerrancy as such a boundary such that anyone who does not at least pay lip service to it cannot be legitimately evangelical. Some of the same wanted to add  monergism to the definition of evangelical such that anyone who does not believe in irresistible grace cannot be authentically evangelical.

Throughout the 1990s I became increasingly involved in these debates. I knew I was authentically evangelical; I had grown up in the thick of the movement and still believed in its basic tenets and held its basic convictions and yet realized I was among the many targets of those who wanted to define many of us out of the movement. They wanted to rip my wallet out of my pocket (so to speak) and take out my evangelical credentials and rip them up and burn the pieces. Of course, I wasn’t nearly as much of a target as some of my friends. So I came to their defenses. Then I became even more of a target (than I had been).

Sometime in the late 1990s I was invited to speak to the presidents of the thirteen colleges of the Christian College Consortium—all self-identified evangelical institutions. They were holding one of their annual meetings and invited me to talk to them about evangelicalism. I knew they were particularly interested in the issue of evangelical “boundaries.” I also knew all of them were under pressure from constituents, many of them with “deep pockets,” to bow to conservatives who, through their publications, wanted to label many of us as what Luther called “false brethren.” I gave my presentation, which argued for a relatively broad and inclusive definition of “evangelicalism,” using the same hallmarks as Mark Noll and David Bebbington (biblicism, conversionism, crucicentrism, and activism). I was supposed to answer questions after my presentation, but the presidents had few questions of me. They fell into polite but pointed argument among themselves about the meaning of “evangelical.” What became clear to me as I listened was that two of the presidents very much wanted to define it in terms of creedal orthodoxy, with very narrow boundaries, while others insisted on keeping it broad and inclusive. What was playing out before my eyes and ears was my own description of two approaches to defining “evangelical” and “evangelicalism”—one centered and one bounded. To two of the presidents, I discerned, a person is either “in” or “out.” It was for them a matter of black and white. They did not seem to want to admit degrees of “evangelicalness.” To others (some didn’t express opinions but only asked questions), “evangelicalness” is a matter of degrees—a spectrum. (A couple of presidents seemed to want to abandon the concept altogether but everyone there knew that wasn’t possible for them.)

That’s just once case study of problems top level evangelicals have with the concept. I’ve been in many meetings where the same issues have divided the participants—sometimes in very harsh tones.

It seems necessary to at least attempt to define “evangelical” and “evangelicalism.” At the same time it seems impossible—at least in terms of reaching consensus. Noll’s and Bebbington’s four hallmarks approach is helpful, but then, among those who use them, the question arises about whether they constitute the “center” of a set or its boundaries. And, especially if boundaries, how are they to be defined? What, for example, constitutes “biblicism?” Is inerrancy part and parcel of true biblicism? Most boundary seekers would say yes; most center seekers would say no. The moment you define biblicism as including inerrancy you set a boundary. But then the problem becomes patrolling it and keeping the right people “in” and the wrong people “out.” Who does that? There’s no evangelical magisterium or headquarters, so what exactly is the function of boundaries?

Some boundary people answer that identifying and keeping clear evangelical boundaries has practical functions. It helps people know whom to hire or publish or listen to. But, of course, especially with regard to the first two functions, everyone knows and admits that organizations have boundaries. That’s not in debate. But just because an organization sets a boundary doesn’t mean that’s a boundary for all evangelicals. A case in point is Carl F. H. Henry, a founder of the Evangelical Theological Society. He, and they, set a boundary for their organization that includes biblical inerrancy. But Henry himself stoutly denied that belief in inerrancy is a boundary for evangelicalism as a whole. He considered non-inerrantist evangelicals inconsistent but not thereby non-evangelical.

As for the third function, knowing whom to listen to, that seems to me what this is mainly about. But, of course, all it means is that someone doesn’t want someone else (usually students and administrators) to listen to another. But, of course, all that is happening, when someone declares someone else not truly evangelical and therefore unworthy of being taken seriously as an evangelical thinker, for example, is expressing an opinion.

Recently I’ve been doing a lot of reading about Pietism. And I’ve written some articles and given some talks about Pietism. (My most recent article is on Pentecostalism and Pietism in Pneuma, the journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies. It’s a version of a lecture I gave at Regent University in North Carolina about a year ago.) Debate about defining Pietism has heated up again. It was hot in the early eighteenth century. Then and now one point of disagreement among scholars is whether Count Zinzendorf, leader of the Moravians, should be considered a pietist or not. Historians of the movement disagree sharply about its boundaries.

It has always seemed self-evident to me that movements cannot have boundaries. In fact, secretly, only to myself, I have long considered people who think movements can have boundaries either disingenuous or sociologically ignorant. Organizations have boundaries; movements do not. It’s self-evident. Movements have centers, not boundaries.

Just yesterday I came across a reference to, and discussion of, a scholar I’ve never heard of before whose work helps a great deal—in explaining what movements like Pietism and evangelicalism are, and are not, and how to describe them when clear definition is impossible. The scholar I refer to is George Lakoff and the book where he puts forth his idea of prototypical defining of categories (such as movements) is Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal about the Mind (University of Chicago Press, 1997). The scholar who pointed me to Lakoff and his ideas is Peter James Yoder (whose excellent chapter in The Pietist Impulse in Christianity is entitled “’Rendered Odious’ as Pietists: Anton Wilhelm Böhme’s Conception of Pietism and the Possibilities of Prototype Theory”).

According to Lakoff - according to Yoder (I have yet to read Lakoff for myself) - categories such as Pietism and evangelicalism (Yoder’s and my examples, not Lakoff’s) can only be defined in terms of “prototypical members.” Yoder summarizes Lakoff’s suggestion this way: “Some members of a category are more prototypical than others. As individuals or groups construct categories, they show a propensity to see some category members as better representatives of the grouping than others. At the same time, these categories tend to have “fuzzy edges,” as they stand for several conceptions of the same grouping.” (The Pietist Impulse in Christianity, The Princeton Monograph Series, ed., Christian Collins Winn, et al., [Pickwick, 2011], p. 24) Such categories admit degrees of membership and they are defined centrally, that is, in terms of a center constituted by the prototypes. “Prototypes merely speak of a cognitive centrality and allow for fluid, fuzzy boundaries.” (p. 24) According to Yoder, Lakoff’s theory allows one to recognize central members of categories and yet maintain fluid boundaries of the movement.” (p. 25) Yoder applies this to the debate over whether Zinzendorf should be considered part of the Pietist movement. He concludes Zinzendorf should be so considered while at the same time allowing that he may not be a member of the center of prototypes. Yoder concludes that “Prototype theory, as a mediating model, provides the ability to maintain central figures and attributes while also allowing for a more fluid boundary of the movement.” (p. 26)

Of course, I intend to obtain Lakoff’s book and read it for myself, but if Yoder is right about Lakoff’s theory, it agrees completely with my vision of evangelicalism, but it adds a dimension I have been previously lacking—“prototypes” as category-defining (and movement-defining). I use the word “defining” cautiously because many people automatically think that once you’ve defined something you’ve pinned it down so that it is either this or that. But when it comes to categories, and especially movements, “defining” means something else. It means describing in terms of prototypes and allowing for degrees of membership. (Here “membership” doesn’t mean what it means when referring to organizations with formal membership. It simply means “belonging to the category.”)

Thus, I argue that evangelicalism, like Pietism, charismatic movement, “New Age,” etc., etc. refers to a category that can only be defined in terms of prototypes that constitute a center. I would put Noll’s and Bebbington’s four hallmarks at that center and with them Jonathan Edwards and John Wesley. What did those men have in common that was not as noticeable among most of their peers in Protestant Christianity? I would say those would be biblicism, conversionism, crucicentrism and activism. And I would add to that a tendency strongly to defend the Great Tradition of Christian orthodoxy (broadly defined). Yes, to be sure, there were others who displayed the same characteristics, but they especially stand out as the prototypes of the Great Awakenings of the eighteenth century that gave birth to the modern evangelical movement.

Narrowing “evangelicalism” down to the post-WW2 “evangelical movement” (which is mostly what I write about and insist on being included in), I would again look to prototypes such as the five hallmarks above and prototypes such as Billy Graham, the National Association of Evangelicals, Harold John Ockenga, Christianity Today, Carl Henry, Fuller Seminary, Wheaton College, Billy Melvin, Eternity, World Vision, etc., etc. This way of “defining” evangelicalism and “evangelical” allows fluid boundaries (if they can be called boundaries at all!). How close to the prototypes are certain entities (people, organizations)? is the question. The Lutheran theologian was not far from right, if far at all, when he suggested that an “evangelical” (in the sense we all meant) is someone who loves Billy Graham. Of course, he did not mean, and nobody in the room assumed he meant, anyone who simply likes Billy Graham as a person is an evangelical. He meant, of course, we all knew—anyone who ardently desires to emulate Billy Graham and/or looks up to him as a prototype of modern, authentic Christianity in terms of his basic beliefs and approach to Christian life (conversion, devotion, evangelism, holiness of life, activism in seeking to change the world “for Christ,” etc., etc.).

Now, I fully realize, this approach to defining (!) “evangelical” and “evangelicalism” will never satisfy those who are out to manipulate those concepts for their own gain. But it is the most reasonable approach; all others have far greater problems.

I tend to think most people look at the world either in black-and-white, either-or terms - or, in terms of degrees, that is, appreciating ambiguity as embedded in the nature of things (or at least in our knowing). Black-and-white thinkers who are allergic to ambiguity will have great trouble with Lakoff’s and my approach. I simply think they are stuck in a relatively immature stage of mental development. I have no problem with their setting up organizations and patrolling their boundaries. That’s their business. I don’t have to belong to any of their organizations. But when they start treating “evangelicalism” as one of themselves as the boundary setters and patrollers, I have great trouble with that. I will call them either disingenuous or uninformed.

 

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Index to past articles on "An Emerging Theology"

 

 

 

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





 

An Evening Prayer, by Sir Thomas Browne

 

Portrait, Sir Thomas Browne

English Classic Poet

 

An Evening Prayer

by Sir Thomas Browne, c.1605-1682

THOU whose nature cannot sleep,

On my temples sentry keep;

Guard me ’gainst those watchful foes,

Whose eyes are open whilst mine close;

Let no dreams my head infest,

But such as Jacob’s temples blest.

While I do rest, my soul advance;

Make me to sleep a holy trance,

That I may, my rest being wrought,

Awake into some holy thought;

And with as active vigour run

My course, as doth the nimble sun.

Sleep is a death. Oh, make me try

By sleeping, what is it to die!

And as gently lay my head

On my grave, as now my bed.

Howe’er I rest, great God, let me

Awake again at last with Thee!

And thus assured, behold I lie

Securely, or to wake or die.




... from Religio Medici, the Second Part, Section XII, 117, ed. Pickering

XII. We term sleep a death; and yet it is waking that kills us, and destroys those spirits that are the house of life. ’Tis indeed a part of life that best expresseth death; for every man truely lives, so long as he acts his nature, or some way makes good the faculties of himself. Themistocles, therefore, that slew his Soldier in his sleep, was a merciful Executioner: ’tis a kind of punishment the mildness of no laws hath invented: I wonder the fancy of Lucan and Seneca did not discover it. It is that death by which we may be literally said to dye daily; a death which Adam dyed before his mortality; a death whereby we live a middle and moderating point between life and death: in fine, so like death, I dare not trust it without my prayers, and an half adieu unto the World, and take my farewell in a Colloquy with GOD.

... “In fine, so like death [is sleep], I dare not trust it without my prayers, and an half adieu unto the world, and take my farewell in a colloquy with God. [Here follows the poem.] This is the Dormitive I take to bedward; I need no other Laudanum than this to make me sleep: after which I close mine eyes in security, content to take my leave of the Sun, and sleep unto the Resurrection.”

continued -

 

Select Poems by Sir Thomas Browne

http://reslater.blogspot.com/2013/01/select-poems-by-sir-thomas-browne.html










 

Another Calvinist Misrepresentation of Arminianism

Not unlike the misinformation popularly bantered about re Arminianism is the ever evolving story of Emergent Theology's postmodern burden of sharing Jesus, the Bible, and Christian ministry to the world at large. In sympathy (and in hopes of educating open minds and hearts) have I posted Roger's lament about his life's occupation (historical theology) in retelling the true story, and teachings, of Arminian theology through the eyes of prevenient grace, mercy and creative will.

- R.E. Slater, January 15, 2013

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Another Calvinist Misrepresentation of Arminianism
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/01/another-calvinist-misrepresentation-of-arminianism/

by Roger Olson

January 5, 2013

Comments

As anyone knows who comes here regularly, I am a self-appointed defender of the truth about classical Arminianism. That often brings me into conflict with Calvinists who misrepresent it. Sometimes it brings me into conflict with fellow Arminians who do the same. Rarely, but occasionally, it brings me into conflict with a Lutheran or other non-Arminian, non-Calvinist. Most of the time, however, the conflict (by which I mean disagreement involving unwanted correction) is with Calvinists because they seem to have a special penchant for misrepresenting Arminianism.

All this began in 1992 when I read the first issue of Modern Reformation magazine. It was entirely devoted to Arminianism and contained articles by leading conservative evangelical Calvinists. I believed (and still believe) the articles contained many misrepresentations of Arminianism (e.g., as semi-Pelagianism). I grew up Arminian, held to it in spite of coming to realize Calvinism is normative in the evangelical theological academy (outside of Wesleyan circles), and noticed that nobody else seemed to be concerned about the rampant and growing chorus of Calvinist voices misrepresenting Arminianism.

During the past twenty years I have worked hard to correct misconceptions and misrepresentations of classical Arminianism especially among evangelicals. My constant call has been for critics of Arminianism to actually read Arminius and classical Arminian theologians and not just rely on Calvinist literature for their information about Arminianism. I have published several pieces (including an entire book) clearing up misconceptions such as that classical Arminianism is semi-Pelagian.

Most recently my article “Election Is for Everyone” (mentioned on the cover as “Roger Olson: Elect Arminians”) is published in Christianity Today (January/February 2011, pp. 40-43). There I once again express that true, classical Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism. True Arminians believe that salvation is solely the work of God just as much as Calvinists do.

After twenty years at this, I am losing patience with theologians (including theologically informed and astute pastors and popular writers) who continue to misrepresent Arminianism, especially when they demonstrate no engagement with Arminian literature and continue to rely on Calvinist polemics against Arminianism for their information.

My experience is that the vast majority of Arminian theologians have read and do read Calvinist literature. Why do Calvinists, especially those who claim to be knowledgeable about the subject, continue to rely solely on Calvinist literature for their information about and understanding of Arminianism? I am coming to the point where, losing patience and almost losing civility, I just want to shout at them: “You wouldn’t consider it fair if critics of Calvinism misrepresented it based on sole acquaintance with anti-Calvinist polemics! Why do you continue to speak and write about Arminianism in a critical way when you apparently have not seriously engaged with Arminians’ own writings?”

Every once in a while a new book by a Calvinist theologian crosses my desk. Sometimes I simply heard about it and bought it to read for my own enrichment. Often, however, a magazine or journal editor wants me to review it. Sometimes one just appears from its publisher, perhaps because the author asked the publisher to send me a copy. I always look closely at its treatment of Arminianism. (They almost always contain at least some of that.)

Recently I received a new book (published in 2012) by a Scottish evangelical Calvinist named A. T. B. McGowan (with whom I am not familiar). The book’s title is The Person and Work of Christ: Understanding Jesus (published by Paternoster, an imprint of Authentic Media Limited, a British publisher). One thing that caught my eye immediately is the name Alan P. F. Sell on the cover. Sell is a well-known Reformed theologian whose books I have reviewed in the past. Many years ago he wrote The Great Debate: Calvinism, Arminianism, and Salvation (1982). I found that to be a very informative and generally reliable treatment of the subject by a Reformed theologian. (Sell was at one time the theological secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches.) His doctrinal trilogy Doctrine and Devotion (2000) is one of my favorite brief treatments of Christian doctrine. It is very pietistic (in a good sense) and biblical and fair to viewpoints other than Sell’s own. In fact, I found very little in it with which to disagree even though Sell clearly stands in the Calvinist tradition. I wrote a favorable review of Doctrine and Devotion for Christianity Today. As a result of my reviews of Sell’s books (including others than those mentioned) we became friendly acquaintances. I admire and respect him. I’d say he’s one of my favorite Reformed theologians.

Sell is the General Editor of the series to which McGowan’s book is a contribution (“Christian Doctrines in Historical Perspective”). I assumed that Sell would preview the book and ask the author to correct mistakes and misrepresentations. Perhaps he did and the author declined and Sell authorized its publication anyway. In any case, Sell’s name on the cover as editor of the series induced me to think positively of the book as I opened it to read (and review). However, I was disappointed. Once again, a Calvinist theologian has misrepresented non-Calvinist theology including Arminianism.

First, however, before the criticism, let me say The Person and Work of Christ is a competent and readable exposition and defense of 1) classical high Christology, and 2) classical high Reformed soteriology. The latter exposition and defense is mainly concerned with penal substitution.

My complaints have to do with McGowan’s treatment of penal substitution as normative for evangelical theology. It is, he argues, the “controlling idea” of atonement for “Reformed and evangelical churches” since the Reformation. (p. 107) It is, he says, “a central strand of Protestant theology.” (118) Also, he claims, it lies at the heart of what it means to be “evangelical.” (125) He calls J. I. Packer’s exposition of it “a definitive statement of the teaching of Scripture.” (128) I think all that is at least questionable. Anyone who comes here often knows that I affirm a version of penal substitution while continually flirting with the governmental theory which, to me, anyway, is very close to penal substitution while avoiding some of its problems. McGowan hardly mentions the “Christus Victor” model of atonement, to which many evangelicals are attracted, and never mentions the governmental theory. He mentions fellow Scottish theologian John McLeod Campbell’s theory of the atonement but only one aspect of it—“vicarious repentance” (of which he is critical).

Overall, it seems to me, McGowan is too narrow in his understanding of the meaning of “evangelical.” There has never been a time when all evangelicals affirmed the penal substitution theory of the atonement. But, then, that begs the question what counts as “evangelical.” I could be wrong, but I get the impression from McGowan that “evangelicalism” is, for him, a small tent with conservative Reformed theology at its center. The vast majority of his sources are conservative Calvinist theologians.

My main complaint, however, has to do with his treatment of Arminianism. The core of it appears in his chapter on “The Extent of the Atonement.” He predictably affirms limited, particular atonement. Shockingly, to me, anyway, he implies that those who disagree (which would be mainly, but not exclusively, Arminians) believe Christ died only to make it possible to save ourselves. (148) Of course, I’ve heard this before. It has almost mantra status among evangelical Calvinists. But it’s simply untrue. And it amounts to a vicious calumny against fellow Christians. Calvinists need to stop saying this. I don’t mind if they say “From our point of view, the good and necessary consequence of universal atonement would be that…” so long as they go on to say “But, fortunately, Arminians and other evangelicals who deny particular atonement don’t actually believe that.”

Now, to be perfectly fair, here is what McGowan actually says about believers in universal atonement: “There are, of course, many Christians who take a different view on this matter [of the extent of the atonement]. There are some who argue that the death of Christ is like a blank cheque [sic], which anyone with faith and repentance can draw upon. The problem with this view is that it seems to cast doubt on the sovereign grace of God and to put salvation into our own hands. It becomes a matter of what we do, what we contribute and what we decide and in some sense implies that ultimately it is our decision that saves us. The Reformed doctrine, by contrast, is that Christ died for a specific and definite group of people, the elect, who will certainly and unavoidably be saved. In other words, Christ died to save us, not to make it possible for us to save ourselves.” (147-148)

Now, let’s examine that carefully because it is carefully worded. McGowan, like Piper and others who make this point, does not come right out and say Arminians (and other believers in universal atonement) say they believe we save ourselves. That’s a good thing because that would make him a liar. However, the structure of the statement strongly implies that that is what McGowan thinks Arminians really believe whether they admit it or not. At the very least he should have included the caveat that Arminians and others who deny “particular atonement” explicitly deny they believe this. Otherwise, who could blame evangelical administrators, for example, of concluding based on what he says that Arminians believe they save themselves (and as a result shut Arminians out of evangelicalism)?

Also, the “blank cheque” analogy is foreign to classical Arminian theology. It completely ignores the key Arminian doctrine of prevenient grace.

The proper language McGowan (and others) should use is that of “good and necessary consequence” with the clear caveat that Arminians and other evangelical believers in universal atonement do not believe it. At best McGowan’s treatment of the subject is sloppy. At worst it amounts to false witness. No one could blame a student reading what McGowan says for concluding that Arminians are not really Christians. After all, one cannot be a Christian and believe he saves himself!

When McGowan turns to Arminianism explicitly (149-15) he again misrepresents it. For example, when paraphrasing the points of The Remonstrance of 1610 he says it affirmed that “It is possible for believers to ‘fall from grace’ and so to lose their salvation.” (149) That is simply untrue. The Remonstrance said only that the matter deserves further study of “Holy Writ.” It did not affirm the possibility of apostasy. (McGowan doesn’t even provide a citation so that readers can go check out what The Remonstrance says for themselves.)

Then, McGowan says “The Reformed rejection of Arminianism centres [sic] on two great convictions. First, that all human beings are sinners who are cut off from God because of sin and are therefore unable to do anything to reverse or change their condition. Second, that only by the sovereign grace of God can sinners be lifted out of their sinful condition, have their sins forgiven and be restored to fellowship with God.” (15) Of course, if he were acquainted with real Arminianism, classical Arminian theology, he would know that it agrees completely with both points. The issues are not those.

It would have been helpful to McGowan and his readers if he had read Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities by yours truly or any similar exposition of classical Arminian theology by an Arminian (e.g., The Transforming Power of Grace by Thomas Oden).

I hope to see the day when no Calvinist author will write about Arminian theology without representing it correctly and fairly. I had hoped that by now that would be the case. My hopes were dashed by McGowan (and his editor whom I hold partly responsible for the errors and misrepresentations in the book). All I can say is “it could have been worse.” I’ve read worse. But that’s no excuse.

We all (Calvinists and Arminians and everyone else) need to bend over backwards to be fair in our treatments of fellow evangelicals’ theologies. There’s nothing wrong with disagreement so long as it is informed and fair. Being fair, in my book, necessarily includes admitting that fellow evangelicals with whom you disagree do not actually believe what you say are the (bad) “good and necessary consequences” of their explicit beliefs. I followed that principle carefully in Against Calvinism where I made clear that my main concerns have to do with the good and necessary consequences of what Calvinists believe.

continue to -

 

Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

 

 




 

Index - Postmodernism

Index to Postmodernism

( this section is intended to link to "An Emerging Theology" )

POSTMODERNISM  V.  MODERNISM
Peter L. Berger - Pluralism and the Future of Christianity

The Oracles of Postmodern Theology Must Reinterpret Scripture...

Part 2 - How Modernity's Secularism Changed the World: Charles Taylor, "A Secular Age"

Part 1 - How Modernity's Secularism Changed the World: An Introduction to Postmodern Hermeneutics

The Ontological Univocity of God's Being from a Postmodern Perspective

How the Reformational Church Brought Secularism to Society

Cometh the End of Days in Postmodernism's Deconstructive Light

A Response to Dr. Geisler's Interpretive Reaction to Emergent Postmodernism

What Emergent Christianity Can Offer a Secularized World

What does it mean to be a Postmodern Christian?

Postmodernism and Its Critics

Reviewing Thomas Oord's "Revisionary Postmodernism and the Christian Faith"



POSTMODERNISM - RETHINKING CHURCH AND THEOLOGY
Index - Postmodernism: Rethinking Church and Theology



POSTMODERN ART AND ARCHITECTURE
Charles Jencks - An Architect's View of Postmodernism



POSTMODERNISM'S BIRTH
"The Day America Died" and the Birth of Postmodernism



POSTMODERNISM AND RADICAL ORTHODOXY

Book Review: "Whose Afraid of Postmodernism?" by James Smith

Kevin Corcoran's Critique of Derrida and Caputo



POSTMODERNISM AND RADICAL THEOLOGY
Luke 7: A Gospel of Reversals - "Who Are the Invited? And Who Are the Sinners?"

Phase III - Building a Postmodern Theology that is both Weak and Apocalyptic

Catching Up with Radical Theology

John Caputo: Towards a Radical Theology, Not a Radical Atheism: A Review of Modern Atheism, Atheology and Divine Inexistence



REVISIONARY POSTMODERNISM
Phase III - Building a Postmodern Theology that is both Weak and Apocalyptic

Thomas Oord: Revisionary Postmodernism and the Christian Faith



POSTMODERN BOOK REVIEWS
Book Review: "Incarnational Humanism" by Jens Zimmermann

Book Review: "Whose Afraid of Postmodernism?" by James Smith

Book Review: Graham Ward's Becoming Postmaterial Citizens

Book Review: Merold Westphal's Philosophical Hermeneutics for the Church

Book Review: Carl Raschke's GloboChrist

Editorial Reviews: "What Would Jesus Deconstruct?" by John Caputo

Book Review: "What Would Jesus Deconstruct?" by John Caputo