Trick-or-Treat? What Does It Mean to be Unified in Christ?

 

Frankly, I don't follow Christianity Today (CT) any more. I use to care greatly about what they thought and published but since my "rebirth" from my evangelical stupor over the past dozen years and more I have found CT, its contributors, and its selective readings of today's theological issues, topics, and ideas, naïve at best, and dissembling at worst. 

dis·sem·ble

 

/dɪˈsɛm bəl/  verb, dis·sem·bled, dis·sem·bling.

verb (used with object)
 

1. to give a false or misleading appearance to; conceal the truth or real nature of: to dissemble one's incompetence in business.

2. to put on the appearance of; feign: to dissemble innocence.

3. Obsolete . to let pass unnoticed; ignore.

 

Today's article from October 22nd more than proves my point. Here, Christena Cleveland gives an agreeable argument for the necessity of embracing Christian unity in its diversity of cultural ideas, theology, and adaptation of Christianity, uplifting difference and dissimilarity as admiral marks of any mature organization, religion, or faith. And in reply comes CT's officious proclamation under an amanuensis (sic, a person employed to write what another dictates, or to copy what has been written by another; a secretary.) that these ideas are agreeable to a point before marking off uncrossable sanctioned barriers. Barriers which, if crossed, makes a Christian anathema to their (evangelical) faith, to be described in whispered tones of being (or becoming) a false prophet carrying an unchristian gospel only worthy of biblical rebuke, reproof, condemnation, judgment and wrath. Where such a one is to be abandoned from the hallowed halls of the body of Christ unless an acceptable level of "homogeneity" is restored in balance with the general beliefs and tenets of evangelicalism's main ideas and message.

 

Hence, while Cleveland argues for the idea of unity within an enlarged Christian fellowship beyond the more restrictive definitions of its borders and boundaries, CT's reviewer rejects this auspicious idea by warning that it is a ruse, or a trick, to get Christians to betray their faith:

 

"While I find this "trick" beneficial, it does not fit every scenario. As an evangelical theologian committed to ecumenical unity framed by grace and truth, I wish Cleveland would have helped distinguish more clearly between areas where theological reconciliation is possible and areas where it is not." - CT

 

In effect, to bear the attitude of a general Christian acceptance of a (non-evangelic) brother or sister falls under the Halloween-like guise of conveying a godly "love and unity" which is basically a slick authorial "trick" or rubric that would open up any culpable reader to the dangers of moving away from the bastions of evangelical Christendom. The reviewer goes on to suggest that to take the author's attitudinal perspective would be like departing from the "narrow road" cautiously travelled unto an exiting off-ramp leading to a "larger road" of certain spiritual death, misleading ideas, and a disingenuous Gospel. Though the idea is good, it is not good enough when it leads to unsanctioned biblical ideas and teachings.

 

"Take, for example, 1 John 4:18 ("There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear"), to which Cleveland refers briefly in her treatment of the culture wars. The epistle's emphasis on love in chapter 4 appears only after a renunciation of teachers who deny the Incarnation. While doctrinal differences can be used to humble, strengthen, and enhance our perspectives, they often convey unbridgeable boundaries. "Perfect love" insists on certain rightful boundaries between truth and falsehood. This is not because we "fear" those on the other side, but because out of love we don't want them to be deceived." - CT

 

In sanctimonious unction the reviewer than proclaims the preferred "contextual" reading of 1 John 4 by qualifying Jesus' admonition to love one another with the apostle John's further admonition to hold to Jesus' incarnation (v.15)... or, in modern evangelical parlance, to only love those who are of the same doctrinal "brotherhood." Suggesting that all other Jesus-followers are not of God, but false and untrue. To this arena of demarcation we then get the unstated rubric of the three kinds of biblical "love" in the Bible - eros, phileo, and agape (translated: deeply passionate love; brotherly love within the church's fellowship; and godly love for those outside the church; as it is normally described).

 

The idea being here of carefully qualifying who is "in" or "not in" the true church's fellowship. And in this sense, to beware of deceptive ruses suggesting indiscriminately love in Christ as a binding blinder so that its participants become unaware of the false gospel that it conveys. A gospel bourne of false prophets and teachers. Not that this reviewer suggests that Cleveland is a charlatan, just that her idea contributes to the unqualified idea of an indiscriminate love that can be hazardous to evangelicalism's stricter theological walls of "biblical truth." Choosing always for truth over love, rather than love over truth. For those who wish this latter course, beware the larger consequences of becoming proselytized to a more worldly, less "Christianized" ideas beyond one's current fellowship. It is a message of fear. And unduly so as I will explain.

 

For the "trick" here is actually a "treat" not cooked in a witch's brew of discord and canker, but in the delights of discovering a newer, unbounded land of freedom shed of its religious blinders and deceptions. Which brings me to my reasons for leaving the attitudinal boundaries of my more restrictive evangelicalism, to a broader definition of what my Christian faith should bear. Yes, I believe in an incarnate Christ. It is one of the bedrocks of my faith. But I no longer qualify my faith by an adherence to evangelicalism's ideas of strict inerrancy, spontaneous creation, a dipolar God, a gospel of wrath, judgment, and exclusivity, nor any other dozens of qualifiers.

 

I have decided to "progress" beyond my formerly closed theological boundaries to a more open center-set nexus of a Jesus-centered faith. That is, a faith in which Jesus is first, and not my beliefs about my Christian religion first. To be marked as a Jesus follower rather than a follower of my temple, my church, my dogma, doctrine, or religious tribe. It is less rigid, more reflective, more open and accepting of postmodernism, and of science in general. It grants to biblical studies a historical, narrative theology and multi-vocal biblical hermeneutic, that leads out in unconditional, non-qualifying love that is inclusive and not exclusive. That serves others and not itself. And does not lead out in judgment and condemnation, or by denominational drivers or doctrinal barriers.

 

It is postmodern, emergent, and progressive in traditional Christian orthodoxies by updating one-and-all with today's newer research and biblical discoveries. Importantly, it is willing to critique its former idea of itself by deconstructive and reconstructive philosophical elements. Is unafraid of its doubts about God, His Word, or of the church in general. Does not have the incessant demand of needing answers and solutions to every event or mystery uncovered in the Bible or within our lives (that is, it tries to be non-apologetic realizing that all apologies but support their own narrower epistemologies even as I am doing now in this apology for my faith :/ ). Is critical of itself, its epistemologies, and its pride, and is properly confessional where, and when, this is possible. It is active in Christian love and reclamation of people in humanitarian projects; this Earth in ecological restoration; and in philosophic discussions. At the last, it is an apocalyptic Christian faith that doesn't wait for Jesus to come, but to become in our midst."

 

Though CT's reviewer likes the idea of unity within the Church it must be a unified church around his own ideas of what the Christian faith is - as set out in its dogmas and doctrines. By this admission, unity is a good thing, but it can also be a lamentable thing should it disrupt and destroy the fabric of evangelicalism as it is presently understood by its official organs of media dissemination (churches, schools, seminaries, and so forth).In the process, it refuses genuine discussion and openness to biblical movement and sway, preaching fear instead of hope; blind allegiance to its binding agencies; and exclusion to any unlike itself. It has become its own templed bastion similar to the Pharisaical Jewish laws and teachings in Jesus' day needing its pillars broken, and dividing curtain ripped in twain, that the Word of God's good news can be released to all of mankind, and not to the elected few.

 

So then, what does it mean to be unified in Christ? Is it a trick, or is it a treat? For many Christians they see it as a trick. But for some, they have unexpectedly discovered it to be a great, sumptuous treat that will last far beyond the sugar-rush of evangelical doctrine. It is become a hollowed celebration of freedom and not a Halloween of dungeons and dragons, if I may misuse the adage. To those few adventurers, be worthy of your exploration to God's unknown lands of bounty awaiting you. As Joshua's spies soon discovered, they dwelt in a land of "milk and honey," though they rightfully feared the "giants" of their day. For such explorers our giants have become bound Christian tradition against a rampant atheism set abroad and about. It will take the wisdom of God to search out and reclaim by the power of His Spirit in loving proclaim.

 

R.E. Slater

October 31, 2013

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

 

Disunity in Christ: Uncovering the Hidden
Forces that Keep Us Apart

 

 

 

Why Don't We Recognize God's Gift of Diversity?http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/channel/comments/allreviews.html?id=112413&type=article

 

by Paul Louis Metzger

October 22, 2013

Comments

 

Christena Cleveland examines the cultural differences

that frustrate the quest for Christian unity.

 

Christians value Jesus' prayer that they—his followers—may be as one (John 17:22–23). But valuing Christian unity is not the same as realizing it. Sometimes we settle for bland homogeneity rather than delighting in the church's mix of cultures, ethnicities, and social backgrounds. Those like me who work deliberately to cultivate Christian unity face trials and failures along the way. Despite our good intentions, we end up getting mean and nasty, or just plain weary, hurt, and discouraged. Why?

 

Individual personalities, faults, and sins are not the only factors. Group dynamics also make a difference. "Sometimes," according to social psychologist Christena Cleveland, "we are affected in hidden ways by those around us. The values and perceptions of the groups with which we identify can have a covert effect on us."

 

Where can we turn for assistance? In Disunity in Christ: Uncovering the Hidden Forces That Keep Us Apart (InterVarsity Press), Cleveland helps readers view people of diverse cultural backgrounds as God's gifts, not thorns in the flesh. She provides invaluable insights, practical recommendations, and tools to help the Christian community identify and address the dynamics that fracture Christ's body.

 

Cleveland's analysis tackles difficult questions about the social forces that frustrate our quest for unity. What leads people to associate with those who are similar, while distancing themselves from diverse others? What causes us to categorize other groups in distorted ways? How do social identity and self-esteem play into group perceptions of others? How do "cultural threats" lead us to approach other groups with hostility? And how do cultural influences shape beliefs and practices in limiting and divisive ways?

 

Cleveland does not discount substantive ideological and cultural differences or deny how hard it is to discard our various "labels." She agrees that principles and theological convictions are important. But "the trick is to wisely use our Christian friends' ideology to humble us, strengthen us, and enhance our understanding of God and the role we're called to play in his kingdom."

 

While I find this "trick" beneficial, it does not fit every scenario. As an evangelical theologian committed to ecumenical unity framed by grace and truth, I wish Cleveland would have helped distinguish more clearly between areas where theological reconciliation is possible and areas where it is not.

 

Take, for example, 1 John 4:18 ("There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear"), to which Cleveland refers briefly in her treatment of the culture wars. The epistle's emphasis on love in chapter 4 appears only after a renunciation of teachers who deny the Incarnation. While doctrinal differences can be used to humble, strengthen, and enhance our perspectives, they often convey unbridgeable boundaries. "Perfect love" insists on certain rightful boundaries between truth and falsehood. This is not because we "fear" those on the other side, but because out of love we don't want them to be deceived.

 

My hope, ultimately, is that Disunity in Christ will create new momentum toward fulfilling Jesus' prayer for unity amongst his followers. Those involved in building and supporting multiethnic Christian communities will be moved by Cleveland's stories, perspectives, and gracious spirit. Her book will, I hope, help us resolve generational, economic, political, and theological differences—and teach us to see that, truly, we are better off together.

 

Paul Louis Metzger is professor of theology at Multnomah Biblical Seminary. He is the author of Consuming Jesus: Beyond Race and Class Divisions in a Consumer Church (Eerdmans) and coauthor of Exploring Ecclesiology: An Evangelical and Ecumenical Introduction (Brazos).

 

 

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Index to past articles on "An Emerging Theology"

 

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






 

Jesus' Possibilities of Marriage or Celibacy in His Early Life and Later Public Ministry

 

 

Did Jesus have a wife? I wouldn’t touch that with a 10-foot shepherd’s staff, but I know someone who will

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/10/did-jesus-have-a-wife-i-wouldnt-touch-that-with-a-10-foot-shepherds-staff-but-i-know-someone-who-will/

 

by Peter Enns

October 28, 2013

Comments

 

Today’s post is an interview with Anthony Le Donne on his new book The Wife of Jesus: Ancient Texts and Modern Scandals. Le Donne (PhD, Durham) is the author-editor of six other books including The Historio-graphical Jesus: Memory, Typology, and the Son of David. He co-founded the Jewish-Christian Dialogue and Sacred Texts Consultation and serves as an editor of the Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus. He is an affiliate of the Centre for the Social-Scientific Study of the Bible at St. Mary’s University College, London and an adjunct lecturer at the University of the Pacific, Stockton, CA.

 

OK, the elevator speech: what is this book about?

 

Christianity. Our fear of sex.Our fascination with sex. Our desire for Jesus to remain just less than human. The fact that our simultaneous fear and fascination with sex creates a market for scandal. It is also a critical assessment of the question: was Jesus married?

 

What motivated you to write about the “wife of Jesus”?

 

Well, I’ve been listening to the conspiracy theories and Christian (over)reactions to a sexualized Jesus for a long time now. I’ve been observing the ebb and flow between pseudo-historians and media outlets.  This topic isn’t going away. The Christianized West is simply too invested in Jesus and too preoccupied with sex to let go of the idea of a wife of Jesus. The humanity of Mary Magdalene has become a casualty in this process. She’s become something of a keyhole into the topic of Jesus’ libido.

 

I kept waiting for the professional historians to step into the conversation and tell us that marriage for romance is a recent invention and that Jesus’ marital status would have been in the hands of his parents. Despite Karen King’s best efforts, the media wanted to make the “Gospel of Jesus’ Wife” (a Coptic fragment she recently revealed) about the Jesus of history.

 

Even then, the national conversation lacked what I saw as the central issue: understanding Jesus in his culture. So I figured that I’d write a book that brings out the crucial aspects of Jesus’ culture that must be addressed in order to answer the question: was Jesus married?

 

And, in your view, what are those factors?

 

If Jesus was celibate, it wasn’t because he was too holy for sex. Conversely, if Jesus was married, it wasn’t because of his romantic inclinations.

 

Marriage had to do with family honor and economic stability. Without an appreciation for the relationships between honor, property, and masculinity, we simply lack the ability to assess Jesus’ marital status. Most importantly, our views on celibacy and lack of progeny were not their views.  We associate celibacy with holiness in many cases. We associate sex with naughtiness and scandal.  But in Jesus’ culture, celibacy would have been viewed as “unholy” by most; it would have been considered an “alternative lifestyle”.

 

We’ve created a scandal out of Jesus’ marital status; but this is our scandal, not theirs. If Jesus had a literal wife, it wouldn’t have scandalized any of his contemporaries.

 

So, did Jesus have a wife? Do you give an answer in your book?

 

As I began to study this issue, I fully expected to argue for a Jesus who was likely married shortly after puberty as arranged by his parents. Short life expectancy, early marriage norms, the demand for progeny to ensure the survival of the family, maternal mortality rates during childbirth, the altogether positive views on marriage in Jewish thought—all of these factors had me thinking that Jesus would have entered an arranged marriage at around 20 years of age. These factors still compel me to take the notion of a literal wife of Jesus seriously.

 

What I wasn’t expecting to discover was the relevance of Jesus’ repeated anti-wealth statements. Add to this the many points of evidence that Jesus had an aberrant view of family honor and an atypical view on blood ties. I concluded that he was most likely celibate during his [public] preaching career. In short, Jesus did not command his disciples to become conduits of “civic masculinity”. Whatever his parents might have arranged for him in his early adulthood, Jesus looks quite subversive on topics related to “family values” during his public career.

 

And this surprised you?

 

Yes, quite! I had read Jesus’ anti-wealth statements a thousand times, but I had never considered how these statements might relate to honor, family, and progeny. Studying about the various ways that the voices and names of women are silenced and marginalized in history, I realized that the topic of wealth and family were inseparable from traditional expectations of masculinity.

 

Jesus blesses the man “who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children.” He blesses “eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.” He anticipates a time when people will bless “childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!” Concerning paternal honor and inheritance, he says, “Let the dead bury their own dead.” There are dozens of episodes where Jesus takes a quite subversive stance on economic security and family honor.

 

I tend to resist theses that set Jesus over and against his contemporaries; the historical Jesus has to make sense within his cultural context. So I was quite surprised to find a Jesus who subverted traditional notions of masculinity.

 

If Jesus was possibly married in his early adult years but likely single during his public career, what does this do to theories that imagine Mary Magdalene as the wife of Jesus?

 

The legacy of Mary Magdalene is a key thread in my book. The “wife of Jesus,” in many ways, is a construct that we’ve invented in the last decade, a cultural symbol that has emerged quite recently in our collective imagination.

 

This development provides an interesting mirror for the Christianized West - Magdalene’s legacy illustrates much more about us than it reveals about her as a historical figure. Mary’s 2000-year evolution from disciple, to obscurity, to prostitute, to royalty, to girlfriend, to wife reflects our sexual fascinations at almost every turn.

 

Unfortunately, our imaginations have not been kind to Mary. I think that it is noteworthy that Mary stands alone as an independent figure when she is characterized in the Gospels. She is not the wife of somebody or the mother of somebody.

 

Given that this is a scandalous topic, have you experienced any hostility?

 

Not much. I do get the occasional sideways glance or the anonymous Facebook comment that betrays a certain discomfort. It’s completely understandable. I argue that Jesus’ views on sexuality were quite nontraditional.  It’s bound to challenge religious provincialism on that level.

 

But the most interesting thing that I’ve found is that such hostility is short-lived. As soon as folks realize that my book brings a responsible tone to a sensationalized topic, almost everybody sees the need. I tend to find that the Christians who rolled their eyes at The Da Vinci Code welcome a bit of sober research on the topic.

 

 

 

 

 

Nazarenes Reject Strict Inerrancy in Favor of Soteriological Inerrancy of the Bible

Nazarenes Reject Strict Inerrancy

http://thomasjayoord.com/index.php/blog/archives/nazarenes_reject_strict_inerrancy/

 

by Thomas J. Oord

September 10, 2013

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Amazon Link

Recently, the Church of the Nazarene reexamined its view of the Bible. A study committee then recommended that the denomination retain its current doctrine of scripture and reject strict inerrancy.

 

The Church of the Nazarene is only a little more than 100 years old. Its theological roots are in the Wesleyan-Holiness tradition. And it has long held the Bible in high regard.

 

Out at the 27^th general assembly, a resolution was brought forward to change the denomination’s view on scripture. The resolution sought to remove the phrase “inerrantly revealing the will of God concerning us in all things necessary to our salvation,” and replace it with the phrase, “inerrant throughout, and the supreme authority on everything the Scriptures teach.”

 

This resolution was one reason why I directed a conference at Northwest Nazarene University (NNU) called “The Bible Tells Me So” in 2011. From that important conference, my colleague in biblical scholarship, Richard Thompson, and I published a book of important essays from leading biblical scholars and theologians.  Several essays in the book deal with the inerrancy issue.

 

A study committee was commissioned at the 27^th general assembly. Biblical scholar, Tom King, chaired the committee, biblical scholar, Alex Varughese, served as secretary, and ten others served. The committee’s report and recommendation were made public this summer at the 28^th assembly. I want to walk you through what I consider the report’s central and most important statements.

 

Opposed to Absolute Inerrancy

 

The report begins by dealing with the proposed change by talking about the strength of the denomination’s current view of the Bible. It emphasizes that the Bible is inspired by God.

 

The heart of the argument comes in the second strength mentioned, namely the phrase that the Holy Scriptures “inerrantly reveal the will of God in all things necessary to our salvation.” The committee notes that this phrase is “distinct from absolute ‘inerrancy’ in every factual detail.”

 

I especially appreciated the committee’s insistence that interpretation matters. We are not infallible in our interpretation of the Bible, they say. And while some Christians think that they are merely stating what the Bible says, this is naïve. “We interpret Scripture,” they write, “guided by the traditions of the Church, in the light of our experience as the people of God, and using sanctified reason.”

 

The committee argues that “the Bible is not to be treated as an almanac or a magic book or a text book of history or science.” But “God’s action in the history of Israel and supremely in the life, death, and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ was ‘necessary to our salvation.’”

 

The scripture study committee concludes this section by saying “The committee therefore believes that it is not only unnecessary, but that it would be untrue to the Wesleyan tradition, incompatible with Wesleyan theology, and unwarranted by the Scriptures themselves to add any assertion that the Scriptures are ‘inerrant throughout…’” They add that “to assert the complete detailed factual literal accuracy of every part of Scripture (‘inerrant throughout’) raises more problems that it solve and diverts people into unnecessary, distracting, and futile disputes.”

 

Nazarenes, not Calvinists

 

In the remainder of their report, the committee says there are important differences between strict-absolute inerrancy and the Nazarene view of soteriological inerrancy. “We are committed to the belief that the Scriptures give us a sufficiently accurate account of God’s action in the history of Israel and particularly in the birth, life, death, and bodily resurrection of the Lord,” says the committee. But “we do not think that highlighting the issue of detailed factual inerrancy is helpful or necessary to insisting on the full authority and trustworthiness of Holy Scripture.”

 

The Church of the Nazarene views scripture differently from other Evangelical groups. The committee had especially in mind the difference between Nazarenes and a particular Calvinist tradition. “This assertion of the complete inerrancy of Scripture in every detail (‘inerrancy throughout’) comes out of one particular Calvinist tradition,” they write. (Not all Calvinists are strict inerrantists.)

 

The committee notes two “severe” disadvantages in claiming the detailed factual inerrancy of scripture instead of its sufficiency. First, the concept of ‘error’ is not helpful, because it is impossible to define what constitutes an error. “The concept of ‘error’ is an absolutist word applied to something which is necessarily a matter of degree, and it is consequently a nightmare since it leads us straight into frankly silly and futile questions.”

 

Second, the misguided concept of absolute or detailed inerrancy diverts attention to unprofitable debates about unimportant details. “Because we are dealing with ancient literature, we frequently do not have enough information to determine whether an apparent contradiction is truly a contradiction or not.”

 

In the final section, the committee quotes many notable Church of the Nazarene scholars. Virtually all are opposed to the idea that the Bible is “inerrant throughout.” From this, the committee concludes, “Nazarene theologians as a whole, with few if any exceptions, are totally opposed to the idea that we need to assert the complete detailed factual inerrancy of Holy Scripture in order to defend its authority.”

 

After noting that changing the current view from soteriological inerrancy to absolute inerrancy would go against the denominations Wesleyan heritage and against its leading theologians and scholars, the committee says that the proposed change would result in a “narrower fundamentalist view.” And this would create “very serious division in the denomination.”

Thankful

 

When I concluded my reading of this report, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. While no denomination is perfect, I’m so thankful to be part of a group that both champions Scripture but also recognizes its limitations. I appreciate being in a worldwide community that believes God’s purpose for the Bible is that we might use it to follow God’s call of salvation.

 

(Find the full text of the report here on the Didache website.)

 

 

 

Don Thorsen, Calvin vs Wesley - "Their Separate Views & Administration of the Church"

Calvin vs. Wesley on the Church
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2013/10/30/calvin-vs-wesley-on-the-church/

 

by Scot McKnight

Oct 30, 2013

Comments

 

“The root of ignorance,” Don Thorsen says, “is ‘ignoring,’ and too many Christians intentionally ignore the beliefs, values, and practices of others, including those of other Christians and churches” (Calvin vs. Wesley: Bringing Belief in Line with Practice, 89). On this Thorsen is not only right but a model of its opposite: he patiently explains both what Calvin teaches AND what Wesley teaches. I admire Don’s effort in this book. Would that we would all be this fair-minded.

 

The problem, he observes, is that “Christians love to set up circular firing squads” (89). Both Calvin and Wesley were firmly and robustly committed to the church; their theologies served the church. This contrasts, I might add, with many today whose “theology” serves only the academy (or themselves).

 

 

FIRST, CALVIN

 

One (invisible), holy (by Christ), catholic (as faithful elect) and apostolic (here absent of the ecclesial traditions). The church is present where there is Word and Sacrament, though often he included church discipline (which he practiced, extending his authority to areas many would today see as beyond the pale). The church though was a “covenant community” and not the same as the invisible, true church.  Calvin famously was overtly and aggressively polemical, especially with Catholics and Anabaptists. Unity for him extended only toward other Reforming and Lutheran churches/leaders. His extraordinary leadership is as unquestionable as his authoritarianism. Thorsen sees a “theocratic” dimension to Calvin.

 

Most problematic is what Thorsen discusses under “magisterial,” a term referring only in part to Calvin’s magisterial leadership in the Reformation but most especially to how he saw the relation between the church and the state (and magistrates). Here’s Thorsen: “Calvin continued to approve of the right and responsibility of civil magistrates… to banish, punish, and even execute people on behalf of the church censures and excommunications” (93). Yes, some explain this as his social context, but I would come back that Jesus transcended the social times on this very issue. Whatever we think of Calvin in this regard, history is what it is.

 

In our terms today, Calvin succumbed to the powers of Constantinianism. He defended hundreds of banishments and executions. He discusses Michael Servetus. Luther said of Calvin: “With a death sentence they solve all argumentation” (96). To be sure, some would argue Calvin’s style made the Reformation possible — others would disagree. Calvin’s style was followed — all the way through the Puritans in New England.

 

 

SECOND, WESLEY

 

He agrees with much of Calvin, especially on the essence of the church in Word and Sacraments (39 Articles), and an emphasis on “living faith” or “faithful men/women” or believers. He wanted more than solid faith but a living faith of obedience from the heart. Orthodoxy, orthodkardia, orthodpraxis. He was less dogmatic because Wesley didn’t think conformity or uniformity were possible. He was also polemical. So he wasn’t as quick to condemn Catholicism even when he disagreed. Here we find generous orthodoxy. He thus welcomed Catholics. He also was loyal to the Anglican Church, though there is some dispute over how loyal he was.

 

Thorsen considers Wesley irenic. I would want to add a much larger, and less polemical, Protestant social context for some of this, but there is an unmistakable and admirable ecumenical spirit about Wesley. In essence, the church needs to defined more by its love.

 

He was not, however, indifferent toward theology [though] some of his heirs today claim his irenicism failed his theological commitments. His famous sermon on this topic is called “Catholic Spirit.” He was no pluralist but believed in church discipline.

 

Church and government. He was socially conservative but disagreed vehemently with Calvin’s implication of state in church affairs.

 

 

 

continue to Index of Articles -

 

Index to past articles on Calvinism v. Wesleyanism

 

 

N.T. Wright, "Paul and the Faithfulness of God" (Vol 4) - Paul's Soteriology

From Worldview to Theology, NT Wright
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2013/10/29/from-worldview-to-theology-nt-wright/

by Scot McKnight
Oct 29, 2013
Comments

NT Wright, in his Paul and the Faithfulness of God, volume 2, opens up with a sketch of his plan, which I will sketch briefly before we get to Wright’s own proposal: Paul’s theology is thoroughly Jewish from top to bottom, and it therefore revolved around three major themes:

 

Monotheism: God is one and it is the God of Israel.

 

Election: God formed a covenant with Israel by his own will, a covenant that grabbed this nation among the many and gave to Israel a mission to the world. This election and covenant form the soteriology of Israel’s theology.

 

Eschatology: again, God has a plan for history to rule this world with Israel having formed a special role.

 

Paul’s theology though takes these three themes into new territory in reframing each through Jesus and Spirit — thus, a Christology and Pneumatology give the monotheism, election and eschatology reshaped focus.

 

Paul’s mission was to engage both Judaism and the Roman Empire with its paganism in forming churches across the Empire.

 

So now to Wright:

My particular proposal in this Part has a simple outline, unfolding in three stages. 

Stage One - I take as the framework the three main elements of second-temple Jewish ‘theology’, namely monotheism, election and eschatology. I am aware, as I have said before, that second-temple Jews did not characteristically write works of systematic theology… (610). “I am equally aware that many essays in ‘Pauline theology’ have assumed that its central, dominant or even sole theme will be soteriology, and that my proposal may appear to be ignoring this and setting off in a quite different direction. However, as will become clear, I believe that the theme of ‘election’ is the best frame within which to understand Paul’s soteriology, and that ‘election’ in turn is only properly understood within the larger frame of beliefs about the One God and the promised future (and the particular problem of evil which only emerges into full light once the reality of the One God has been glimpsed). Soteriology thus remains at the centre” (611). 

Stage Two - This brings us to the second stage of the hypothesis. I shall argue, in the case of each of these three central and correlated topics, that Paul rethought, reworked and reimagined them around Jesus the Messiah on the one hand and the Spirit on the other (612)…. 

Stage Three - The third stage of the hypothesis is to demonstrate this christologically and pneumatologically redefined complex of monotheism, election and eschatology was directed by Paul in three further ways, which we postpone to Part IV of the present book. I list them here in the reverse order in which they appear in that Part. — First, it was what drove and governed the main aims of his letter-writing…. Second, though, if Paul was indeed redefining the central beliefs of second-temple Judaism, we might expect to find, at least by implication, a running debate between him and others within that world, focused not least on how they were reading scripture (613)…Third, this christologically and pneumatologically redefined Jewish theology was in reasonably constant engagement, again sometimes explicitly and sometimes not, with the pagan world of Paul’s day.

So he is taking 2 Corinthians 10:5 at Paul’s word: the man was capturing every thought for Christ.

And all of this ends up in a local church, in the ekklesiai of Paul:

The result of all this (again, this will come in chapter 16) was the founding and maintaining of communities which, in terms of the first-century world of Diaspora Judaism, were bound to look extremely anomalous. On the one hand, they would seem very Jewish, indeed ‘conservatively’ so. On the other hand, they would seem very ‘assimilated’, since they did not practice the customs and commandments that marked out Jews from their pagan neighbours. But these communities, Paul believed, possessed their own inner coherence, due to the freshly worked elements in the theology which he expounded, elements that were not bolted onto the outside of the parent Jewish theology as extraneous foreign bodies but were discerned to lie at the very heart of what that theology had most deeply affirmed (614). 

 

 

Continue to Index -

 

Index to the "New(er) Perspective(s) of Paul"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Philosophical Reflections on John Caputo's "Nihilism of Grace" - The Insistence of God

Caputo’s Nihilism of Grace: Eschatology, Event, & Self-Reflexivity

http://homebrewedchristianity.com/2013/10/16/caputos-nihilism-of-grace-eschatology-event-self-reflexivity/

 

by Tripp Fuller

October 16, 2013

Comments

 

Here’s a guest post from Blake Huggins that’s part of the Caputo blog tour. Enjoy!

 

Amazon Link

My thanks to Tripp and Indiana University Press for the invitation to participate in this blog tour and for a copy of the book. I’ve been anticipating this work for a while now and I’m glad to see it being critically discussed.

 

What I would like to do here is go through the chapter and discuss what Caputo is trying to do and then conclude with three questions I have about this chapter and Caputo’s larger project.

 

If The Weakness of God was his first explicit foray into theology–his “coming out of the closet as a theologian” as Catherine Keller’s jacket blurb suggests–then The Insistence of God is at the same time both Caputo’s clarification of what he means by theology and a reflection on recent trends in continental philosophy of religion.

 

In The Weakness of God Caputo jumps into the pool of theology with both feet. This newest work is his attempt to further flesh out his version of “radical” theology*1 and the result is incisive, refreshingly humorous in places, and overall a real pleasure to read, which is something I may appreciate about Caputo the most–his writing is both forceful and beautiful, rigorous and poetic (a point many philosophers and theologians could stand to learn from!).

 

In this penultimate chapter “A Nihilism of Grace: Life, Death, and Resurrection,” Caputo continues his critical engagement with “speculative realism” and argues for a “radical resurrection theology” (231) initially focusing on Ray Brassier and his book Nihil Unbound (NU).*2 Brassier’s argument is that since Kant philosophy has been too preoccupied with human subjectivity and has in the process ignored the fact that we are headed for extinction. Nihilism, for Brassier, is the realization “that there is a mind-independent reality which…is indifferent to our existence and oblivious to the ‘values’ and ‘meanings’ which we would drape over it in order to make it more hospitable” (NU, xi). This post isn’t about Brassier, so I hesitate to quote him at length. However, the lines below are stark and powerful. It works well if read in your best Werner Herzog voice.

[O]ne trillion, trillion, trillion years from now, the accelerating expansion of the universe will have disintegrated the fabric of matter itself, terminating the possibility of embodiment. Every star in the universe will have burnt out, plunging the cosmos into a state of absolute darkness and leaving behind nothing but spent husks of collapsed matter. All free matter, whether on planetary surfaces or in interstellar space, will have decayed, eradicating any remnants of life…. [T]he stellar corpses littering the empty universe will evaporate into a brief hailstorm of elementary particles. Atoms themselves will cease to exist. Only the implacable gravitational expansion will continue, driven by the currently inexplicable force called ‘dark energy,’ which will keep pushing the extinguished universe deeper and deeper into an eternal and unfathomable blackness." (NU, 228)

In response, Caputo asks: what are we to do in the meantime while we are still here? Brassier’s analysis may be true, yet here we are, human beings enfleshed in human bodies floating through space on planet that just so happens to sustain life as we know for a short cosmic millisecond (not that we are at all helping!). What are we to do? How are we to spend the time that we have been given?

 

Caputo doesn’t necessarily disagree with Brassier’s description of nihilism as eventual extinction and death. To this he says yes, this is the case. The problem, though, is with the conclusion that because everything is headed for entropic disintegration nothing is worthy of value.

 

In a way, what Brassier offers is an inverted version of Radical Orthodoxy’s primary thesis. Whereas John Milbank and his ilk argue that becoming a classic Thomist metaphysician, participating in God’s Eternal Being (with disastrous political consequences!) is the only alternative to the threat of nihilism, Brassier, in Caputo’s rendering, suggests that nihilism is all there is at the end of the day and because there is nothing Eternal or permanent, because total annihilation is our ultimate horizon and nothing will endure, there is nothing worth our time (226-27).

 

This Caputo roundly and compellingly rejects. For the bulk of this chapter Caputo is in full on Dionysian mode, channeling his inner Nietzsche, the early Nietzsche of The Birth of Tragedy who engages in a full-throated celebration of life in spite of its frailty and manifold imperfections. Nihilism may indeed be all there is but for Caputo this is ultimately an instance of insistent grace. So instead of being-nothing (Brassier), Caputo calls for an embrace of “being-for-nothing,” which accepts nihilism as a gift and values life itself unbound and precious precisely because of its precarity.

 

Life is being-for-nothing other than itself, it is its own because, a pure gift, pure grace, pure contingency, where grace, givenness, and the aleatory vicissitudes of material existence are such that they are because they are without why (244). To paraphrase a comment Samuel Beckett once made with regard to James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake, life, for Caputo, is not about something, it is that something itself, which is why it is to be celebrated and enjoyed without why. “Nobody asked anybody for anything,” writes Caputo. “We answer a call we never heard. It’s just a pure gift in which what is given is given without good intentions, without any intentions at all” (230).

 

It is against this backdrop that Caputo reads various resurrection narratives, namely those of Lazarus and Jesus in the gospels. Resurrection is not the negation of death or the attempt to somehow write mortality and temporality out of the cosmic equation. Instead, these stories serve as theopoetic instantiations of a desire for life, of a certain faith in more life, not a particular, individual life, but life itself bounded by materiality and impermanence. Resurrection, for Caputo, is faith in life, a hope (against hope) for more life through the chance of the event, the chance of grace because as long as life persists, as long as we’re still here and haven’t disintegrated into elementary particles, as a long as this planet and this universe sustain us, as long as there is soil beneath our feet and sky above our heads, as long as blood flows through our veins and breath through our nostrils — as long as all this is the case there is the possibility and the chance of more life, not a life or my life, but life itself.

 

But there are no guarantees. In this “radical” theology of the event, in this topsy-turvy theopoetics of the perhaps, even God is a gambler, rolling the dice on the outside chance that maybe, possibly, perhaps, more life might happen, that grace might come, that the impossible may surprise us, that the event could facilitate resurrection. But perhaps not. Hell, for Caputo, is “ruined time” (242) which is one possible outcome of chance. Grace does not automatically heal everything; it may turn out to not heal at all. “Loving life is our best theory for everything,” but this does not mean we are safe, that things are ultimately determined, or that ‘love wins.’ Grace and love are not ultimate metaphysical categories here — there is just as much a chance for horrific atrocity as there is for resurrection and more life. Things could go horribly awry. Or, not. It all turns on “the reduction of the event” (231) and the passion for the impossible which means, simply, that there is no why: being-for-nothing. And as long as this is the case there is a chance for the possibility of more life, of the gift of grace, the grace of the event, perhaps.

 

TL;DR – Rather than allowing nihilism to be paralyzing (being-nothing) Caputo calls for an embrace of nihilism as grace, as a type of gift involving a full-throated celebration of life itself without why (being-for-nothing). Resurrection is the promise, perhaps, that there is a chance for more life, a chance for the event.

 

Now a few questions…

 

1. The first has to do with Caputo’s use of Deleuze. This has increased quite a bit since The Weakness of God and shortly thereafter. In particular, he loves to use a line from Deleuze’s The Logic of Sense in his discussions of the event.*3 This continues in The Insistence of God, especially in this chapter. Caputo borrows from Deleuze quite a bit but is ultimately “disloyal to his metaphysics” (234) wanting “no party in the war between Deleuzeans and Derrideans” (298 n23). But other than employing the word ‘metaphysics’ and assuming it to be a pejorative label–which I normally agree with though here I’m not as clear as to why–Caputo does not fully elucidate his differences with, and from, Deleuze. For instance, Caputo worries about Deleuze’s notion of “the plane of immanence” (again because it is too metaphysical) and instead opts for a more phenomenological description of the event in his discussion of resurrection. Yet later in this same chapter he will describe the event as “an emergent effect on the plane of the world” (239) a phrase he uses more than once and is, to my mind, all too reminiscent of Deleuze. So, what is the actual difference here? How is Caputo’s plane of the world different from Deleuze’s plane immanence? Another way of putting this, would be to ask what the discernible differences are between Derrida and Deleuze. Is the difference as cut and dry as Caputo makes it out to be? What is at stake for Caputo in this distinction? This is some interesting discussion on this over on Clayton Crockett’s post. I tend to agree with the notion that Derrida and Deleuze are perhaps closer than Caputo lets on. This closeness is something Derrida himself suggested.

 

2. In this chapter and throughout the book Caputo tends to conflate telos and eschaton. I wonder if this needs to be the case. What if instead of associating eschaton with ontotheological determinacy and finality we link it with Caputo’s understanding of the event? It seems to me that the event is deeply eschatological — in fact, it could be argued that the entirety of Caputo’s work since The Prayers and Tears of Jacques Derrida is deeply eschatological.  The event harbored within the name of God, the “to-come” that is always structurally beyond anticipation, the absolute future which is distinguished from the future present, the surprise that exceeds and shatters horizons of expectation–all concepts that smack of eschatological consequence. Yet, Caputo himself is reticent to make this connection, rightfully wary of the metaphysical premises of most conventional eschatologies and their penchant to valorize closure and an other-worldy eternity. Again, I wonder if this needs to be the case. What if eschaton were decoupled from telos? There are plenty of resources within theology that can be leveraged to read eschatology against the grain. If eschatology is thought simply as the theological understanding of time and the future rather than the ontotheological discourse of the consummation of all things in some Great Beyond that saves us from the world then I think field is wide open talk about the event in eschatological terms.*4 Can there be a “radical” eschatology of the event or a poeticized eschatological materialism? What would it mean to thematize the event in such terms and to do so without recourse to the discursive strategies of the Kantian “type” of continental philosophy of religion?

 

3. In a certain way this final question extends beyond Caputo’s work but is certainly applicable to it. Quite a bit of ink has been spilt in the last 20 years or so over the “theological” turn in continental philosophy both in the form of support and as a critique of certain triumphalistic configurations (what Caputo calls “postmodernism light”). It seems to me that taken as a whole this “theological” or “religious” turn also places a certain exigence upon a critical re-evaluation of theology itself as a critical discourse and discursive practice. In fact, one could argue that the question of God after the death of God is one particular formulation of this exigency. But it isn’t the only formulation and I’m not so sure it is the best one for our particular cultural moment. So, for instance, I am encouraged to see Caputo deal, however briefly, with the insidious supercessionism that inheres in certain (quasi)theological uses of continental theory which privilege Christianity (152ff). His critique of neo-Kantian, fideistic configurations of “postmodern” thought as a means of protecting or saving (Christian) theology from immanent critique is also helpful here. The question, though, is whether Caputo’s “radical” theology is capable of enacting gestures of critical resistance against itself that facilitate, among other things, the decentering of Christian hegemony in religious thought. Caputo himself is still “doing” theology from a Christian standpoint, in many ways as a Christian, though I’m not sure he would claim the label “Christian theologian.” This isn’t necessarily bad, but it does speak to the sort of double-bind one faces (I include myself here). In this respect, it doesn’t seem off base to ask: what is the aim of a “radical” theology? Is its radicality contingent at least in part upon its ability to perform acts of theological self-reflexivity, to think itself otherwise, to think, perhaps, the demise of its current position? Is this, perhaps, what Caputo means when he refers to “a new species of theologians?” I realize some of this lies outside Caputo’s immediate scope, but I do think these are persistent and even insistent specters haunting any theological project, especially one which claims to be radical. Insofar as Caputo’s theology is thoroughly concerned with futurity–with what is coming–it seems worth considering what the future of theology is to be and whether such a future will sufficiently attend to its more liberative exigences. Or, not. Perhaps.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

1) Regular Homebrewed readers are surely aware that there has been quite a bit of back and forth over the meaning and use of the phrase “radical theology” recently, specifically whether the identifier is appropriately used by Caputo and others. While I understand Caputo’s use and defense of the phrase within this book (and his previous works) I do share some of these concerns. So for this post I am employing the term “radical” in quotations marks–with a certain amount of fear and trembling–to denote this contestation.

 

2) My exposure to Brassier is very limited and Captuo’s textual engagement with him in this chapter is actually pretty sparse. So my use of Brassier here is based on Caputo’s (brief) outline, which may or may not be the best reading. I hope readers more familiar with Brassier and so-called “speculative realism” will weigh in on this.

 

3) “The event is not what occurs (an accident), it is rather inside what occurs, the purely expressed.” The Logic of Sense, 170.

 

4) Part of my own project at the moment is to trace this development in Derrida’s thought, something I think Derrida himself was well aware of but reluctant to thematize as such. In this respect, Caputo is most certainly a true Derridean disciple. But, of course, Derrida never really claimed he was doing theology, while Caputo is basically a late-blooming theologian.

 

 

 

The Ring Theory of Kvetching: "Practical Advice on How to Say the Right Thing to the Right People"



Illustration by Wes Bausmith

 

How not to say the wrong thing
http://articles.latimes.com/2013/apr/07/opinion/la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407

Op-Ed

 

It works in all kinds of crises – medical, legal, even existential.

It's the 'Ring Theory' of kvetching.

 

The first rule is comfort in, dump out.

 

by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman

April 7, 2013

 

When Susan had breast cancer, we heard a lot of lame remarks, but our favorite came from one of Susan's colleagues. She wanted, she needed, to visit Susan after the surgery, but Susan didn't feel like having visitors, and she said so. Her colleague's response? "This isn't just about you."

 

"It's not?" Susan wondered. "My breast cancer is not about me? It's about you?"

 

The same theme came up again when our friend Katie had a brain aneurysm. She was in intensive care for a long time and finally got out and into a step-down unit. She was no longer covered with tubes and lines and monitors, but she was still in rough shape. A friend came and saw her and then stepped into the hall with Katie's husband, Pat. "I wasn't prepared for this," she told him. "I don't know if I can handle it."

 

This woman loves Katie, and she said what she did because the sight of Katie in this condition moved her so deeply. But it was the wrong thing to say. And it was wrong in the same way Susan's colleague's remark was wrong.

 

Susan has since developed a simple technique to help people avoid this mistake. It works for all kinds of crises: medical, legal, financial, romantic, even existential. She calls it the Ring Theory.

 

Draw a circle. This is the center ring. In it, put the name of the person at the center of the current trauma. For Katie's aneurysm, that's Katie. Now draw a larger circle around the first one. In that ring put the name of the person next closest to the trauma. In the case of Katie's aneurysm, that was Katie's husband, Pat. Repeat the process as many times as you need to. In each larger ring put the next closest people. Parents and children before more distant relatives. Intimate friends in smaller rings, less intimate friends in larger ones. When you are done you have a Kvetching Order. One of Susan's patients found it useful to tape it to her refrigerator.

 

Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, "Life is unfair" and "Why me?" That's the one payoff for being in the center ring.

 

Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings.

 

When you are talking to a person in a ring smaller than yours, someone closer to the center of the crisis, the goal is to help. Listening is often more helpful than talking. But if you're going to open your mouth, ask yourself if what you are about to say is likely to provide comfort and support. If it isn't, don't say it.

 

Don't, for example, give advice. People who are suffering from trauma don't need advice. They need comfort and support. So say, "I'm sorry" or "This must really be hard for you" or "Can I bring you a pot roast?" Don't say, "You should hear what happened to me" or "Here's what I would do if I were you." And don't say, "This is really bringing me down."

 

If you want to scream or cry or complain, if you want to tell someone how shocked you are or how icky you feel, or whine about how it reminds you of all the terrible things that have happened to you lately, that's fine. It's a perfectly normal response. Just do it to someone in a bigger ring.

 

Comfort IN, dump OUT.

 

There was nothing wrong with Katie's friend saying she was not prepared for how horrible Katie looked, or even that she didn't think she could handle it. The mistake was that she said those things to Pat. She dumped IN.

 

Complaining to someone in a smaller ring than yours doesn't do either of you any good. On the other hand, being supportive to her principal caregiver may be the best thing you can do for the patient.

 

Most of us know this. Almost nobody would complain to the patient about how rotten she looks. Almost no one would say that looking at her makes them think of the fragility of life and their own closeness to death. In other words, we know enough not to dump into the center ring. Ring Theory merely expands that intuition and makes it more concrete: Don't just avoid dumping into the center ring, avoid dumping into any ring smaller than your own.

 

Remember, you can say whatever you want if you just wait until you're talking to someone in a larger ring than yours.

 

And don't worry. You'll get your turn in the center ring. You can count on that.

 

Susan Silk is a clinical psychologist. Barry Goldman is an arbitrator and mediator and the author of "The Science of Settlement: Ideas for Negotiators."