Deacon Bill

Dallas Willard, Evangelical Salvation, and the Spirituality of Resistance

May 14, 2013 by Deacon Bill 2 Comments

“Isn’t the whole point of Christianity salvation? Not in terms of being “saved” from “eternal fire” but in terms of being saved from bondage, shame, fear, injustice, and all the other hells around us all the time… so that we can become new beings and find our true identities to “save” this world and all of humanity with it, with God leading the way. Not with platitudes but with actual restoration?” – Ryan Miller, re-quoted by Tony Jones

This tribute comes a bit late in terms of the speed and lifespan of internet news, but I hope Dallas Willard’s death just means that the best reflection on his work and the appreciation for his contribution and what kind of person he was has only begun.

Like no one else perhaps, as a philosopher-theologian of the human spirit, Willard rescues evangelical Christians from bad soteriology. This is partly because he is able to speak the language so well and then transform it by uncovering its lack of depth. He and a few others did this for me a while back, and I remain very grateful.

Willard says:

“Spiritual formation is not something that may, or may not, be added to the gift of eternal life . . . It is the path one must be on if his or hers is to be an eternal kind of life” (Renovation of the Heart, p. 59).

I understand this as one of the great shortcomings of certain Protestant theologies – namely, the dualism of justification and sanctification that reduces salvation – or worse, “the gospel” – to the former. As soon as salvation becomes something we simply get after death that must be “paid for,” I believe it loses its force.

But obviously we don’t see those like Willard going back to Medieval Catholicism either. No, they’re much more Eastern than that. In other words, the urgency of salvation for Willard and others is transformation – and for transformation’s sake. That is, not because of a self-interested preoccupation with avoiding punishment.[i]

For many though, I suspect this isn’t anything new, and some would even suggest it’s not enough – possibly because it still seems so focused on personal piety. It’s ahistorical. Salvation, whatever it is, should be more social, more political! And Willard should be more aware of the role of gender in his diagnosis of the nature of sin, etc.

This is probably all true…

Recently I was reading Dorothee Soelle’s book The Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance. Chapter eleven opens with the following from Theodor Adorno:

“As far as possible, we ought to live as we believe we should live in a liberated world, in the form of our own existence, with all the unavoidable contradictions and conflicts that result from this. . . . Such endeavor is by necessity condemned to fail and to meet opposition, yet there is no option but to work through this opposition to the bitter end. The most important form that this will take today is resistance.”

Soelle goes on to talk about how, unlike the European Marxist workers’ movements, the American farmworkers movement was led by a man who prepared himself carefully for every action through fasting and prayer. Cesar Chavez, knowing poverty intimately, once fasted twenty-four days before a large and very dangerous strike. Those who knew Chavez described him as free and happy.

As least for now and in my context, I’ve come to agree with Soelle that the term “liberation” is to some degree inadequate, and could maybe be replaced with the word “resistance.” My conviction, following Soelle, is not just that we need mysticism and resistance. Rather, it’s that today, mysticism, or contemplative spirituality, is a very important form of resistance.

Specifically Soelle shows how mysticism serves to resist the ego, accumulation, and violence. She criticized the First World for its failure to learn resistance. Despite our “knowledge,” we are powerless. She speaks of how most of the great women and men of mystical movements for a time being indeed practiced the contemplative “way inwards,” but their aim was consistently the unity of the contemplative and the active life, of ora et labora (work and prayer).

The superordination of contemplating over acting was criticized and overcome by the likes of Eckhart and Teresa of Avila. “To know God means to know what has to be done,” Levinas said. The mystics only echo back, “and here’s how you know!”

I might differ with Willard in this regard: spiritual formation doesn’t have to be the starting point for transformation. As Soelle insists, “oneness with God, beginning in action, can also discover the mystical unity that undergirds resistance” (p. 201). Nonetheless, for those of us whose faiths weren’t born out of the fruit of resistance movements, we’d probably do well to still apply the spiritual wisdom of Dallas Willard.

[i] “God became human so that human beings could become like God.” – Athanasius. And as Bo pointed out on Sunday, we also learn in the process that God is not like us!

Filed Under: latest, living, prayer

Christian Social Justice and “the Common Good”?

April 30, 2013 by Deacon Bill 3 Comments

I’m a big admirer and supporter of Sojourners Magazine and its editor-in-chief Jim Wallis, who was just interviewed on the Homebrewed Christianity Culture Cast again, and just released a new book entitled On God’s Side: What Religion Forgets and Politics hasn’t Learned about Serving the Common Good. Jim gets this phrase from a famous Abraham Lincoln statement. It’s been around since antiquity and perhaps finds its roots in Greek political philosophy, but does this idea of “the common good” invoke an adequate Christian social ethic?

Last week the question was raised by several Missio Alliance folks about whether Jim Wallis and Jerry Falwell are two sides of the same coin. At first I had a hard time not finding the mere suggestion of this to be ridiculous, but then I thought it nonetheless might be a good segue into a related discussion. If for further argument’s sake one grants that this is true, then I would submit that Gustavo Gutierrez and John Howard Yoder are two sides of the same coin as well (see the diagram below).

One concern is that “common good” language might just be repackaged utilitarianism or Christian realism, in the modern tradition of doing the greatest good for the greatest number. I’ve benefited significantly in recent years from the work of Hauerwasian-leaning political theologians who might say this, like William Cavanaugh or Daniel Bell Jr, whose latest book, Economy of Desire, I recommend. Here is an interview with him.

The question that always arises for folks like this seems to be something like, whose good? On whose terms? This question is one of the main reasons post-liberals and Anabaptists are reluctant to engage in politics in a formal, and what they would call, coercive manner. Their epistemological issues are varying and complex, but without getting into a discussion of the limits of language, perhaps a pithy summary of this position might be that Christians should only enter into dialogue and commerce in a Christian way and for Christian reasons. Does this preclude interreligious justice efforts or any kind of public collaboration on legislation in the public square?

In keeping with the spirit of last week’s exchanges regarding Subverting the Norm and Missio Alliance and Geoff Holsclaw’s suggestion that we talk more about differences, I’d like to try out a way of “mapping” some of those differences. In seminary I took a class with Roger Olson (Homebrewed interview here) entitled “Christian Social Justice” at the same time that I was enrolled in Marc Ellis’ (Homebrewed interview here) seminar on Liberation Theology. While Olson’s class framed the discussion generally in terms of different views on capitalism and the morality of violence, Ellis seemed to me to be more intent on organizing the class around the themes of justice and religious identity and building community vs. empire. I’ve tried to include these dimensions in the following graph:

For a brief summary of my understanding of what each quadrant represents, go here.

Kathryn Tanner is another political theologian who has influenced me. She was interviewed on Homebr ewed Christianity by Philip Clayton in 2011. Her latest research deals with what Christianity can say about the global economy in light of the hyper-financialization of international markets and the recent Great Recession. Here is something she said a few years ago in an article in the Christian Century about Christian theological and ethical responsibility today that has really stuck with me:

Enlightenment challenges to the intellectual credibility of religious ideas can no longer be taken for granted as the starting point for theological work now that theologians facing far more pressing worries than academic respectability have gained their voices here at home and around the globe.

Theologians are now primarily called to provide, not a theoretical argument for Christianity’s plausibility, but an account of how Christianity can be part of the solution, rather than simply part of the problem, on matters of great human moment that make a life-and-death difference to people, especially the poor and the oppressed.

I interpret Tanner to be saying here that, in the context and age of globalization, the proper Christian response is one that seeks to make a difference and be good news for the world and those living in it. The criteria for this “good”, and what makes it “common” appears to be something like life instead of death, and addressing the needs of our shared material existence and limitations despite other differences — be they religious, cultural, geopolitical, etc. Can this be done without sacrificing Christian character and identity? In other words, do we have to speak the same language to work toward a common ethic? Is this materiality the best “public” or “common” ground? I tend to think so.

At AAR this past November in Chicago, I got to interact with Christine Hinze and others in the ecclesiological investiations group who have attempted to offer Christian theological and ethical critiques of and responses to the financial crisis of 2008. In my paper I tried to argue that North American emergent church ecclesiology provides a good model for Christian resistance to the financialization of capital that is always threatening to privatize profits and socialize losses. After thinking about this more lately, I wondered if the above diagram couldn’t be transposed ecclesiologically (note the change from “government” on the left to “culture”):

Like the previous one, this graph is not sufficient to capture the diversity of ecclesial forms and perspectives in the North American landscape, as it doesn’t include many others such as Catholics, Pentecostals, the Eastern Orthodox Church and so on. It also fails to consider the ethnic diversity of our ecclesial context. Moreover, as we’ve seen, the labels of “emergent”, “missional”, and even “evangelical” are often more confusing than clarifying. In light of the conversation last week though, I do think this layout can be helpful.

Filed Under: emergent, engaging, politics, pomo, post-something, thinking

Why Missio Alliance and Subverting the Norm need each other

April 23, 2013 by Deacon Bill 29 Comments

Giving his toast to Jacques Derrida during the Live Homebrewed Christianity “Theology of Rock” podcast at the Subverting the Norm conference earlier this month, Jack Caputo made the following comment: [Derrida belongs on the Mount Rushmore of Radical Theology because] “he saves us from the safety of religion.”

One week later someone tweeted the following quote from a talk by Scot McKnight at the Missio Alliance inaugural gathering: “a gospel of personal afterlife insurance is about my needs, not Jesus’ reign.” Another tweet followed: “Jesus left a community, not a book or a rule.”

In his response to Caputo’s keynote talk at Subverting the Norm, Tony Jones made a number of interesting comments as well, at least one of which is the impetus for this blog post: He said, “Be loyal to this tribe. We have a better version of the gospel than the regnant view of the gospel in the West today. If our version of the gospel is to stand a chance, particularly among the “nones,” then we’ve got to stick together in spite of our doctrine/theological/philosophical differences.”

My contention here is not that these quotes (Caputo’s and McKnight’s) mean the same thing – based solely on the speakers, obviously they don’t – or that the differences between these two groups are unimportant or insignificant. I do want to suggest though that there might be a common spirit shared between the groups captured by these two quotes. To borrow from Peter Rollins, I think those represented at each of these conferences have rejected a Christianity of certainty and satisfaction and have instead turned to pursue a faith that is more honest, broken, communal, politically conscious, non-triumphalist, and in the end, more true to the basilea theou of peace, justice and reconciliation that Jesus announced.

Part of the common mission seems to be something like the embodiment of a counter-narrative to the dominant ideologies of our time. (I like Walter Brueggemann’s terminology of these ideologies as technological-therapeutic-consumer-militarism.) The quality of scholarship critiquing the worship and subsuming power of global capitalism on both sides is impressive. Then there is also a common mission, I think, to call out the false-consciousness of conservative and neo-reformed evangelicalism that takes the form of nationalism (violence), bibliolatry (certitude) and/or soteriocentrism (satisfaction). Missio Alliance leader David Fitch is especially helpful in naming these master signifiers (see my review of his book The End of Evangelicalism?).

Moreover, I think both movements clearly renounce Christendom and embrace the challenge that is religious and non-religious pluralism. Lastly, while I’m sure there’s more to be mentioned, both conferences celebrated ethnic diversity and the empowerment of their female leaders (Cherith Fee-Nordling and Jo Saxton for Missio, and Namsoon Kang, Katharine Sarah Moody and Melinda McGarrah Sharp for STN, among others).

These are not small points of agreement.

There are definite theological differences between these two camps, as already acknowledged. Some members of the groups won’t even be interested in this conversation. But it does not follow that there is a clean separation on all fronts. As Brian McLaren argues in his latest book, Christ-centeredness, or the integrity of a distinctive Christian identity on the one hand, and radical hospitality on the other hand, are not mutually exclusive. Rather, it’s a tension Christians must live in, however difficult, and that’s why I’m convinced the conferences need each other.

And despite suspicions to the contrary (see Doug Pagitt’s interview of Fitch and Holsclaw about their latest book), not all Emergent types and Mainline Protestants have low christologies, just like not all Missio leaders are Hauerwasians (Roger Olson who also spoke at the conference is case-in-point) or unwilling to bless gay marriage. It’s easy to see which side is more inclined to what – Missio to Christian identity and STN to inclusivity – but I suspect that these inclinations can be explained to some extent by each group’s respective fidelity to divergent contexts. If Missio is committed to responding to the disillusionment with the conservative and neo-reformed attempt to reduce the gospel to “justification,” STN is addressing the broader and more political context of concern for social, eco-justice and epistemological/post-modern fragmentation. Both contexts must be attended to!

I’m frustrated by what I’ve read recently from some leaders of Missio like Fitch and Holsclaw in their published and unpublished remarks about figures like Rob Bell and other emergent folks in general. They’ve constructed a false binary, I think, between the neo-reformed crowd and emergents, by mistakenly collapsing the latter into Mainline Protestantism. At the same time, I can understand Fitch and Holsclaw’s frustration with the alleged theological vacuity of emergent church figures in the past decade.

And yet I’m considering both of these frustrations, attempting to gaze toward the future with a bigger picture in mind, and venturing the observation that these frustrations are nonetheless relatively inconsequential compared to what can be held together. Why? Because I believe these gatherings and networks exist at least in part for the sake of furthering a story and a faith that actually brings good news to the poor, the planet and the LGBT community – to use the Homebrewed slogan – but that does not forfeit its Christian distinctiveness in the process.

Can we get on board with that? I’m genuinely curious and hopeful.

Bill is an adjunct professor of theology and ethics at the University of the Incarnate Word, a PhD candidate in philosophy of religion at Claremont Graduate University and has worked as a youth and campus minister at Baylor University and Santa Clarita United Methodist Church. He and his wife Whitney live in Austin, TX, and you can connect with him on his blog at wawalker.com or on twitter @bwalkeriii.

Filed Under: emergent, latest, pomo, thinking

Tony Jones, A Better Atonement, and the Future of Emergent Church Theology

March 27, 2012 by Deacon Bill 11 Comments

There’s been a heavy slew of blog posts and books lately on why young adults are leaving the church (see Frank Schaeffer, Christian Piatt, Dianna Butler Bass, etc.). And Bass is awesome in her interview by the way! This is a good conversation to have, and I think the practical issues definitely need to be addressed. We should talk about aesthetics, music, liturgy, ethics, programs, etc. But two of the biggest factors at hand, I would want to say, are still identity and purpose; and surely we get these from our theology, and perhaps more precisely, our christology. Without this, it’s hard for me to see how the church won’t just eventually morph into something else.

As has frequently been noted, a major problem in many evangelical contexts continues to be the degree to which “the gospel” is equated with the penal substitutionary theory of atonement (PSA). I’m becoming increasingly convinced that the future of the emergent church depends on its ability to articulately refute, and concisely recast, this reductive tendency amongst our more conservative friends. No matter what kind of social justice projects (KONY 2012, etc.) get tacked onto this message, and regardless of how much Relevant Magazine calls for “rejecting apathy,” so long as PSA is depicted as the full picture or main event of the good news, the church will always fall short of expressing Jesus’ vision for it. (By the way, I’m talking to people who still care about preserving something like the Christian church that isn’t just Mainline version 2.0… if this isn’t you, that’s fine!). An adequate response, however, might take more than just ignoring or only deconstructing the components of Bebbington’s evangelical quadrilateral (conversionism, Biblicism, crucicentrism and evangelism).

Because even if you’re convinced that PSA is the devil, and even if you revise it, the language is in the Bible, so it’s probably not going away. Tony Jones knows this, and he also knows better than to flatly dismiss it. Instead, as others have tried to do (e.g., Scot McKnight), he’s merely attempting to dethrone it, and I would like to join him. I’m very appreciative of the various feminist criticisms of traditional atonement readings (especially that of Kathryn Tanner), but unless “emergent” is to become forever irrelevant even to the most open-minded evangelicals (does this matter?), then you can’t just throw out PSA.

At the same time, Tony is also careful to point out that, generally speaking, atonement theory (not christology) has never really been a dividing debate in church history and shouldn’t be now. Compared to the Trinity and the divinity of Christ, atonement is secondary. I’m not as sure about this, but he could be right. I’m simply saying that, just as mainliners might need to meet emergents halfway, so too maybe emergents can be generous enough to “go to the middle” for evangelicals so to speak. Or at least for those of us who are recovering, as I’ve heard Tripp say, it’s a good idea to be gracious to every version of our old selves.

Here are some things from the book:

The first thing Jones does is to (convincingly, in my view, and biblically!) debunk original sin without neglecting the seriousness of sin as such. Again, this is not new, but sin must be understood structurally and socially (war, violence, oppression, inequality, environmental degradation, etc) without forgetting about it individually. This is crucial for an emergent church theological project.

Secondly, in a respectful and fair way, Jones directly challenges Driscoll and Piper on this issue for their hyper and irresponsible, Calvinist PSA. I am so glad he’s not ignoring them. They are way too powerful and influential to ignore if we care about the North American church. And they are way too wrong for us to be silent about it. And here’s what we have to see: a lot of people who go to their churches aren’t even like them, because they don’t know any better! The response: offer an alternative that isn’t reactionary and that doesn’t poison its own roots.

Thirdly, after outlining the major theories of atonement throughout history and testifying to both their necessity and finitude, Jones turns to a better theory for our time, despite its shared limitation (see below).

Anyone who has studied 20^th century theology already knows what Jones is saying here. Jon Sobrino and the liberation theologians said it. Jurgen Moltmann and other political theologians have said it. Andrew Sung Park has been on the podcast and is certainly influenced by Sobrino and Moltmann. Scholars like Theodore Jennings, Miroslav Volf, and Joel Green have made cases along the same lines as Tony. People who like the Girardian “Last Scapegoat” take will obviously appreciate Mark Heim or someone like Ingolf Dalferth. This is one of the positions that Jones defends. Most emphatically though, Jones follows Moltmann’s notion of atonement as solidarity through the Philippians 2 hymn and The Crucified God. To be fair, the best proponents of PSA (e.g., von Balthasar) can say this too, but think substitution without the penal, or what Volf calls inclusive substitution, in which Christ is not a third party inserted between God and humanity, but the very God who was wronged:

“Jesus’s life, and particularly his death, show God’s ultimate solidarity with the marginalized and the poor,” Jones explains, “with those who most acutely experience godforsakenness . . . in his death, we are united with his suffering. And in identifying with his resurrection, we are raised to new life.”

My interpretation of A Better Atonement goes something like this: The real hole in the gospel for conservatives is the failure to proclaim the saving significance that Jesus and therefore God participates fully in and understands human suffering, while for liberals it is that Jesus does this as Christ. This means three things: we affirm incarnation, we affirm resurrection, and we declare the prophetic meaning of the crucifixion loud and clear. Yes, we’ve read and written about this, and it might even be old news for some, but surprisingly enough, most people sitting in the pew as it were still haven’t really heard it preached or seen it in action, either because we’re too distracted as ministers with preaching salvation as a legal transaction on the one hand or using it as mere exemplary inspiration on the other. The justice of God gets sidelined in both cases, as the parables about the reign of God are either overly eschatologized or mystically internalized. The cross and the kingdom must be reconnected, and it can’t just be social. It has to be soteriological. This is what Jones is saying, I think. Is this what emergents can and should claim? (for a better Scriptural understanding of how one could do this, I recommend N.T. Wright’s most recent book, How God Became King).

The book reads like a blog – very informal and straightforward, but still free from simplistic caricatures, which is a difficult balance to find. This is reliable, timely, and bold theological leadership for the emergent church that is desperately needed. I must confess that I wish it had come sooner, as I feel too many people have already moved away from the conversation before listening to what might be a tenable alternative to the monolithic PSA gospel. Nonetheless, this should be a welcomed and appreciated little book for easy reference and for prompting discussion in an intelligent and accessible fashion. What could be more appropriate as we approach Easter? In my view, Jones highlights a most compelling theory of atonement for our situation, especially in light of the crises we face as a North American church that comes in the midst of what Walter Brueggemann has perceptively called a culture of therapeutic, technological consumer militarism. I’m looking forward to the interview!

Other things I’m wondering:

Does talking about emergent “theology” even make sense?
I’m not saying that we have to have one “right” theology (or does it sound like I am? if so, call me out!), but can this kind of atonement be unifying for the mainline-evangelical divide?
Maybe it’s a worn out question, but is the word “emergent” still useful? (i.e., is it too insular, sub-cultured, taboo for evangelicals, etc.)
Finally, for those who will have listened to the Bass interview, I’m curious if anyone notices a relationship or contrast between what she’s talking about and what Tony is doing here…

(I wrote a more extended introduction to this topic that can be seen here).

Filed Under: books, emergent, latest, thinking

The Church and Global Crises: Putting our Money where our Mission is

February 16, 2012 by Deacon Bill 5 Comments

After engaging further with the work of recent Homebrewed guests like Doug Pagitt and Mark Scandrette, and with all the talk recently about various process eschatologies (the Emergent Village Theological Conversation), the issue of the church’s mission and its direct role in addressing the foremost problems of the world has really been on my mind. In fact, Brian McLaren gave a great talk about this just this past Sunday at Claremont School of Theology. Watch it here. The main idea I’m wrestling with is this: if it’s true that our participation in bringing about new creation here and now is supposed to be significantly contributive to the reality of God’s economy on earth – but not necessarily determinative of it – then what does this mean for the mission of the church in concrete terms?

The most measurable and tangible way I know how to pose this question is something along the lines of the following: how does your church spend its money, and what does this show about its values? (we could talk about time and energy as well, but I’m focusing on this dimension because I think it might be the most important for our context.) It’s temping at first to suspect that this is too much of a practical way to frame the topic from a theological perspective, but I want to argue that it might be one of the most profound theological questions that can be asked, especially for churches that are enjoying the privileges of imperial security.

Defendants of the currently dominant but perhaps waning church structures in America are quick to argue that there’s no “one size fits all” solution, and that’s fine. But then I would still want to say to them, how and when do you plan to start actually contributing to this so-called mandate for change in the world with your current financial model?

Most churches dedicate the vast majority of their budgets to payroll, building and utility costs. Obviously, these things are necessary, and I would even concede that something like the aesthetic quality of a worship venue can make a big difference with respect to what audience is being reached and that it is therefore sometimes a worthwhile investment. Programs that foster spiritual formation shouldn’t be neglected, and of course staff members have to be paid in order for some tasks to get done.

At the same time, I don’t think this is enough, and in my view it’s probably not even a primary concern for Christians in comparison to the severity and urgency that characterizes the concerns of our global ecological and political-economic situation. And this has everything to do with eschatology. Along with many other homebrewed deacons, my contention is that if our beliefs about the future are such that relying on God is emphasized to the point of justifying the apathy that we as Christians seem to be comfortable with most of the time, then we have a bad eschatology. On the other hand, as Tripp and Bo articulated quite well on the TNT podcast a few weeks ago, an eschatology of co-laboring orthopraxis – as opposed to an otherworldly one – need not consign us to completely depend on our own strength either. That was one of the mistakes made with the post-millennialism of protestant liberalism at the turn of the 20th century.

With that said, let me give an example of how this might be done in practice. So there’s a church in Austin that set a goal a while back to work toward structuring themselves so as to allow for giving away half of what they receive in monetary donations every year to non-profit programs and charitable project partners (a homeless food ministry in Guatemala, building a school in Uganda, staffing an after-school program in East Austin, and various other sustainable development initiatives). A few years later now, they are already more than halfway there, having consistently been giving 35% of their tithes and offerings to these outreach partnerships. They see this as only fair, since they expect themselves as a membership to tithe… because if we’re all giving ten percent of our income, but the church spends most of that on itself, how do we expect to actually do something about the greatest threats to our planet and human life? And this is not a small church. They have a big building and a big staff. And yet with this long-term goal in place, they’re still using their big suburban resources to make a substantial difference in the world despite the other challenges that come along with a missional-attractional approach to ministry.

Perhaps even more radically, a totally different church in Waco, TX of comparable size pays all of its staff members the same salary – from the senior pastor to the secretary (in addition to a stipend per child in the family). This frees up a ton of their resources for their missional church planting efforts around the world and forces their team of pastoral leaders to walk the talk of living simply.

Now, it may be that neither of these churches are quite “up to speed” with an appreciation of the most pressing global crises from the standpoint of their theological significance, but at least they understand the intimate relationship between organization, budget allocation and missional accomplishment. In light of these examples then, I just have to wonder: can we not ask this same question about balance sheets and God’s economic values wherever we are and begin to think creatively about how to work toward a better future – by leading churches to put their money where their mission is, by actually contributing a sizable portion of their cash flow to the realization of new creation in the present?

Filed Under: emergent, latest, living, thinking

Part III: Fitch’s New Evangelical Politic

April 21, 2011 by Deacon Bill Leave a Comment

The “Christian nation” concept is a the third “Master-Signifier” for evangelicals that has made God’s work something to be done and fought for “out there.” This is what has bread dispassion (see also Greg Boyd’s Myth of a Christian Nation). David Fitch wants to expose the Jouissance (Zizek’s term for the kind of enjoyment that holds a people together under the domination of an ideology).

Fitch cites Henri de Lubac asking this question: “Have we become a society of individuals bound together by a form of spectating?” (p. 156) – spectating that makes us invisible in the world . . . Our ability to gather is pretty impressive, Fitch says, and we are helped by video and podcast technologies. The danger, obviously, is the church’s identity is formed prior to engagement with the world, and concentrically, which intensifies its concerns for it’s own subsistence. Inevitably, Jesus is domesticated, and the church becomes imperialistic. Instead, the church’s identity, Fitch argues, must always come into being in the event of mission, which is the encounter with the other through the outpouring of God’s love in Christ into the world (p. 159). In so doing, we inhabit the posture of servants to the world and incarnate compassion while using our different gifts. This is somewhat like Yoder’s on-the-ground politic, where loving the world and refusing conformity are two sides of the same coin (p. 163).

But Fitch stops short of suggesting that we can’t have a material church and agrees with de Lubac – namely, that we should be centered around the Eucharist (as opposed to, say, preaching). This where a “mutual sharing of a new justice in Christ’s reigns – at the Eucharist table. Here we become the justice of God as opposed to individuals who campaign for it as a slogan in the world” (p. 156). Being sure to connect this with actual activity in society though, Fitch notes William Cavanaugh’s illustration of the Chilean base communities in the 1980’s. He draws a line between their resistance to Pinochet’s regime and the potential for citizens of Western liberal democracies to similarly challenge the totalizing structure of capitalism – being “in but not of” – by creating alternative forms of local economics and leaving behind all fears of financial insecurity. So with the emphasis on the renouncing of worldly power, not getting assimilated into the violence of the world, loving adversaries, etc., we are essentially left with an Anabaptist politic.

An objection can always be raised here by those with perhaps a hunger for significant change and justice for the poor and oppressed on this side of the fully realized Kingdom. Should we not vigorously struggle to curtail institutional sin? Indeed, the biggest weakness with this theo-political vision could be that it is either too vague or just not very political – that is unless the term is broadened to mean something less useful. Of course, all worldly political schemes are fragmented and risk becoming ideological, but isn’t the risk still worth taking? Or does this compromise our witness? Which is more important? This debate is not new, however, and the strong pacifist position is certainly a Christian option.

And obviously the more realistic, potential shift that people in the Christian Right camp could make is more likely to be toward something like “The Politics of Jesus” (Yoder) than anything resembling quasi-leftist activism, so this critique might not be completely fair in light of Fitch’s overall project.

The second minor criticism I have would be that Fitch does not consult Zizek’s most recent work where he interacts much more directly with Badiou, and then Christianity itself, with its “perverse core,” reached through a particular reading of St. Paul (The Puppet and the Dwarf, The Fragile Absolute, The Ticklish Subject). Fitch acknowledges this though and confesses that it might be a weakness – and I don’t think this need take away from the merit of his conclusions.

There is much more here, including a good discussion of the missional and emergent church movements in the epilogue. In sum, this book is rich and wise. I think the timing of its release is interesting. If it isn’t too bold to speculate, could we see Fitch as sharing the concerns with Rob Bell in Love Wins, at least in a complementary fashion, with evangelicalism as their common “mission field”? (despite some clear disparities in anticipated scope and size of their audiences). And Fitch has provided excellent commentary on his blog in my view on the recent frenzy surrounding Bell’s book, as well as a penetrating diagnosis of the psychology and ideology of The Gospel Coalition. Fitch is careful and precise. In this regard, I see him doing a great service to evangelicalism, in a sensitive, in-depth way – and with good leadership.

Filed Under: random

Part II: Resurrecting Evangelicalism, Fitch Style

April 19, 2011 by Deacon Bill 3 Comments

“Have you entered into the salvation already begun in Jesus Christ that God is working for the sake of the whole world?” trumps the question “have you made the decision to receive Christ as your personal Savior?” – David Fitch

THE BIBLE:

Fitch admits upfront that he has no intention of denying the authority of Scripture, the substitutionary theory of the atonement, or the evangelistic calling of the church in the world. This seems to be why he’s still an evangelical.

Regarding the issue of Scripture, following the lead of Barth, Hans urs von Balthasar, Kevin Vanhoozer and Christopher Wright (what a lineup!), Fitch contends that, “God cannot be an object of our knowing (our possession). Rather as we enter into a place where we become known by God, then, out of this relationship, we can know God.”[i]

Fitch then cites Yoder and Hauerwas, declaring that “the church must abandon all attempts to secure the gospel through foundational epistemological strategies,” for these are Constantinian strategies.[ii] We cannot hold the Bible over people in a defensive and coercive posture. Rather, we inhabit it in our contexts.

Furthermore, the relationship we have to the Scriptures is not an individualistic one. Instead, to know the authority of Scripture is to come before it in prayer together, in humility and vulnerability, and to participate in its ongoing presence in and proclamation by the church (the congregation founded upon the biblical witness).[iii] When this happens, Christ is incarnated, and the church submits to the leadership of the Holy Spirit.

The goal is to maintain a high view of Scripture while also recovering Christ at the core of what we believe about Scripture – Christ as the center of all revelation. This view and practice replaces then the reading of the “inerrant” Bible as defined by modern science, historiography, etc – which is an arrogant habit that must be broken – though Fitch maintains that we still need skilled and learned exegetes in our midst.

And while Fitch values a mystical retrieval of Scriptures that incorporates discplines like lectio divina, centering prayer, confession, praying the hours, solitude, silence before the text, careful listening, meditation, and so on, he also recognizes the need for reclaiming the extended, vibrant narrative of the Bible as theodrama here and now – in which this life and this world are the stage where God acts and invites human beings to be co-laborers for redemptive purposes.

SALVATION

Next Fitch asks what this perspective on Scripture means for salvation. Relying on N.T. Wright, Michael Gorman, John Milbank and Dallas Willard, Fitch first and foremost undoes the sharp distinction between sanctification and justification that enslaves evangelicals to the decision for Christ as a “Master-Signifier.” “Conversion is still necessary. The whole goal here, however, is not singularly my own forensic pardon as an individual, although that is part of it.”[iv] It is also about becoming members of the covenantal people of God in whom God is at work to fulfill God’s promises. In essence, Fitch is just keeping company with the various “New Perspective” authors, wherein individual salvation is a by-product of God’s plan to reconcile all things (though Fitch explicitly laments that some will refuse the invitation).

This disposes people to faithfulness rather than duplicity. There is no shame or unrealistic expectation for perfection just because we enter into this community. The exposure of our sins is never a surprise, only an opportunity for further growth through healing and renewal – Spirit-enabled theosis, whereby we are made into marturia: witnesses, signs.

Questions:

Any “post-conservatives” with evangelical roots probably agree that this sounds good and everything, but can evangelicals really do this? And would they still be evangelicals if they did, or would they become something else?

Or, as Tripp asked Dr. Olson, why go to so much trouble? Can’t we just give up the term and come up with a new one, like “emergents” have, or has that failed too?

These are just my questions . . . feel free to bring your own! The next post will touch more on the political features of the church’s calling in Fitch’s depiction.

[i] David E. Fitch, The End of Evangelicalism? Discerning a New Faithfulness for Mission: Towards an Evangelical Political Theology (Cascade Books, 2011), 133.

[ii] Ibid., 134.

[iii] Ibid., 132-133.

[iv] Ibid., 143.

Filed Under: books, emergent, thinking

David Fitch and The End of Evangelicalism? Part I

April 18, 2011 by Deacon Bill 8 Comments

“. . . even the religion we are commited to and in which we found God and purpose and meaning and truth, can become . . . the religious public relations department for an inadequate and destructive ideology.” – Brian McLaren[i]

I think Roger Olson would find a friend in David Fitch (I had the distinct privilege of learning under Dr. Olson when I was at Truett – great podcast by the way!). Fitch’s new book The End of Evangelicalism? is something worth talking about. Who is David Fitch? Well, to use Olson’s terminology, and a quote from Olson’s blog, Fitch is another post-conservative evangelical[ii] trying to

“facilitate a number of ‘beyond’ moves, theologically: beyond the agenda of the modernist/fundamentalist dichotomy toward what they see as a more holistic theology; beyond classical foundationalist epistemology toward alternative concepts of knowledge; beyond concentration on rationalism toward incorporating additional ways of knowing; beyond inerrancy debates and concerns toward an instrumental use of scripture; beyond academy-centered theologizing toward ecclesial and community-oriented thinking; beyond gatekeeping on boundary-setting doctrinalism toward a generous orthodoxy with pietistic emphasis; and finally, beyond what they view as a fixation on the concerns of modernity often motivated by a fear of liberalism, toward a more positive view and selective appropriation of postmodern insights.”[iii]

At the same time, Fitch is doing even more than this. Most innovatively, he attempts to employ political theology and the cultural-continental theory of Slavoj Zizek for the purpose of diagnosing the crisis in evangelicalism and envisioning a viable way forward – all without abandoning the best of what evangelicalism has to offer.

Let’s just put it this way: I didn’t see this one coming, especially since I recently made a post that gave Peter Rollins a hard time for using Zizek to do theology . . .

I have said on my own blog that Zizek is useful for political projects, but for describing and psycho-analyzing the evangelical situation in North America? That is true ingenuity, and I think Fitch completely pulls it off.

There’s so much to be said about this book – one of the best of I’ve read in a long time, especially on this topic – but here’s a preliminary picture: citing Stephen Fowl and Darrell Guder, the underlying suspicion for Fitch is that evangelicals have failed “to lead a life worthy of the calling to which they have been called” (Eph 4:1), and to order their “common life” together toward a pattern of life that yields “the disposition” of Christ in the world (Phil 1:27).

In this sense, borrowing from Zizek’s illustration of the diet coke phenomenon – the most consumed drink in the world that neither quenches thirst nor tastes very good – Fitch argues that evangelicalism has become an “empty” politic – “driven by antagonisms and contradictions as opposed to something real to which we aspire.”[iv]

Fitch proposes that the three main beliefs have characterized evangelicals over time: 1) “the Inerrant Bible” and how it “shapes us for arrogance,” 2) “the Decision for Christ” (a conversionist understanding of salvation centered around substitutionary atonement) and “how it shapes us for duplicity” 3) and “the Christian Nation” and “how it shapes us for dispassion” (the subtitles really tell the whole story). The words that are capitalized function ideologically – again referencing Zizek – as “master-signifiers.” In other words, these ideas are “objects to which people pledge their allegiance,”[v] and Fitch argues that each one eventually produces an “irruption of the Real” for the people who adhere to them, revealing “the contradictions at the core of our [evangelical] politics.”[vi]

In the next two posts, I’ll summarize what Fitch suggests can be the alternatives to these three ideological tendencies and their negative effects. It really is an excellent analysis. If you have thoughts on this subject or have interacted with the book yourself, please do comment!

[i] Brian D. McLaren, Everything Must Change: When the World’s Biggest Problems and Jesus’ Good News Collide (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 29.

[ii] Roger E. Olson, How to Be Evangelical without Being Conservative (Zondervan, 2008).

[iii] Steven B. Sherman, Revitalizing Theological Epistemology: Holistic Evangelical Approaches to the Knowledge of God (Pickwick Publications, 2008), 9-10.

[iv] David E. Fitch, The End of Evangelicalism? Discerning a New Faithfulness for Mission: Towards an Evangelical Political Theology (Cascade Books, 2011), xxii.

[v] Ibid., xxv.

[vi] Ibid., 31.

Filed Under: books, church history, emergent, thinking

Romans 10 in the Spirit of Universalism (not Exclusivism)

March 29, 2011 by Deacon Bill 3 Comments

It’s worth reiterating the importance of what was said in Deacon Hall’s post about not making demands on God. Only a universalism with this conditioning could be ”biblical.” Indeed, concerning these things, “Do not be arrogant, but tremble” (Rom 11:20).

And to stress God’s absolute freedom, doesn’t Paul warn that God could have made us, like clay in the potter’s hands, “objects for his wrath” (Rom 9:22)? But as recipients of “the good news that’s better than that,”[i] we choose to believe and humbly confess: this isn’t the last word. The love and character of God revealed in Christ says otherwise.

The voices of condemnation and heresy hunting have been too loud lately. They leave their traces everywhere on the blogosphere. Normally, we can ignore them, or at least drown them out with a more generous orthodoxy, not laying claim to any one interpretation absolutely. But instead of running for the hills when we hear red flag phrases like “biblical Christianity” thrown around, it might be better to answer this time.

In light of this, after Tripp and Deacon Hall’s posts, and in the spirit of “continuing the conversation” Rob Bell has started into the “next inning” (McLaren), I thought it might be constructive to look at a common exclusivist proof text from Romans 10:14-15 (see recent examples here and here), by which certain sects try to justify the belief that the vast majority of humanity in history must be consigned to hell – whatever hell is exactly (see a great post by Ben Witherington at Patheos about this here). I think that challenging this narrow and restrictive viewpoint, successfully or not, was Rob Bell’s chief concern in Love Wins.

¹⁴ How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? ¹⁵ And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

Roman 9-11 as a whole is concerned with the tension between Israel’s disobedience and election.

Chapter 10 in particular addresses the gospel – the “Word of or about Christ/messiah/God” – as that which Israel indeed has “heard” before and should know. Paul references Isaiah 53:1, and the aorist (past) tense of the Greek word for “obey” in this case clearly makes reference to an announcement already received, having prepared the way as a condition for the present preaching of Christ by “missionaries.”[ii] Paul is saying that the Hebrews should have recognized Jesus as a “suffering servant” like the figure depicted in Isaiah’s song.

The correlations between the latter part of Isaiah and Romans are striking:

Isaiah 49:18 (see Rom 14:11), 50:8 (see Rom 8:33), 51:1 (see Rom 9:31), 51:8 (see Rom 1:17), 52:5 (see Rom 2:24), 52:7 (see Rom 10:15), 54:16 (see Rom 9:22), 59:7 (see Rom 3:15-17), 59:20 (see Rom 11:26)

But concerning v. 14 most explicitly, which is where the attention must be focused:

“To explain ou ouk ekousan as meaning ‘about whom they have not heard’ is not really feasible; for the use of akouein with the simple genitive of the person meaning ‘to hear about (someone)’ would be very unusual.”[iii] In other words, Paul is not condemning those who have not heard yet. Calvin’s commentary, which is otherwise still useful, awkwardly takes these questions to be referencing the Gentiles, but this makes little sense in view of Paul’s on-going mission, seeking of funds, and intention to travel all the way to Spain. He’s clearly just talking about Israel here (10.1) since he answers his own question in the affirmative (10.18 – “did they not hear? Of course they did”).

Furthermore, the “beautiful feet” of v. 15 would be merely “decoration” if this verse were meant to exclude those who haven’t heard a priori, but instead it forms the next step in the argument and draws our attention to Isaiah 52:7, showing that that prophetic message had indeed been fulfilled, and the apostolic proclamation commissioned. This runs quite contrary to interpretations by those like Thomas Schreiner who insist on an exclusivist reading, as he even laments the inclusivist leanings of C.S. Lewis and Billy Graham![iv]

So what about the Gentiles? When referenced (which is not as often here), the context is quite optimistic, and meant to contrast their acceptance of the Gospel with the rejection on the part of the Jews. Then comes the Deuteronomy quote:

“I will make you jealous of one that is not a nation, and with a foolish nation I will provoke you” – v. 19.

And even Isaiah anticipates this. Israel’s rejection of the prophets had been seen before:

“All day long, I stretched out my hands to a disobedient and contrary people” (Isaiah 65:2).

Jesus echoes this in Luke 13:34:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”

Ok, great, so God loves the Gentiles . . .But does God abandon Israel? No, God remains faithful to the covenant – something Paul has in mind throughout the letter, just as was promised to Abraham:[v]

“I ask then: Did God reject his people? By no means!” (Rom 11:1)

There is some harsh language in this passage, so we must be careful and not take our “inclusion” for granted, but before the closing doxology, “Paul’s [final] emphasis is on the positive rather than the negative: this remnant people is being formed on the basis of God’s gift in Christ Jesus (5:16; 6:23).”[vi]

³⁰Just as you who [Gentiles] were at one time disobedient to God have now received mercy as a result of their disobedience, ³¹ so they [Israel] too have now become disobedient in order that they too may now receive mercy as a result of God’s mercy to you. For God has bound everyone over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all (Rom 11:30-32).

Sounds like a good promise! Is Paul contradicting himself? No, for the people of Israel are still representative of God’s chosen people whom he is saving, and this judgment at present is penultimate,[vii] but the justification of the ungodly by faith on account of God’s righteousness (perhaps the major theme of Romans), which is also the resurrection from the dead, is the only hope both of the world in general and also of Israel.[viii]

Let us be awed by the depths of the riches and the mercies and purposes of God! (11:33-36)

[i] See Rob Bell, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived (HarperOne, 2011).

[ii] Luke Timothy Johnson, Reading Romans: a literary and theological commentary (Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Inc., 2008), 173.

[iii] C. E. B. Cranfield, Romans (T&T Clark Int’l, 2004), 534.

[iv] See Thomas R. Schreiner, Romans (Baker Books, 1998).

[v] Johnson, Reading Romans, 177.

[vi] N. T. Wright, Justification: God’s Plan & Paul’s Vision (IVP Academic, 2009), 180.

[vii] Richard B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation, A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics, 1st ed. (HarperOne, 1996), 415.

[viii] Ernst Kasemann, New Testament Questions of Today (SCM Press, 1969), 187.

Filed Under: bible stuff, thinking

Another Lenten Challenge for Peter Rollins

March 10, 2011 by Deacon Bill 14 Comments

Peter Rollins rocked my seminary world with his first two books, How (not) to Speak of God and The Fidelity of Betrayal. I have a deep appreciation for him. His parables compel me to act. His message disallows taking comfort in mere “belief”. At the same time, he gives transformative power to my doubts! Perhaps most importantly, Pete exudes nothing but kindness and concern when you meet him. His faith community in Ireland called Ikon has even inspired others like my friend Adam Moore to start the Void Collective in Waco, TX. It is no exaggeration for me to say that there would be something lacking in my faith today if I had not encountered Peter Rollins.

My only concern is that, in general, Pete sometimes seems to be responding to a particular version of Christianity that has tended to superficially classify God as static, other, unrelational, and irrelevant to the world, depicting God as a separate deity “out there” that doesn’t directly affect me “here”. A close look at most of Christian theology throughout the centuries, however, will reveal that this was never supposed to be the conception of God – other theological problems in the tradition of course notwithstanding. Yes Christianity has recourse to the existential crisis in Ecclesiastes, or Jesus being forsaken on the cross – and we desperately need to retrieve these motifs as Pete does – but can its sources for consolation be left out? For instance, God as immutable: unlike the Greek notion, in the Christian sense, God understood in this way was always Trinitarian! Trinitarian meaning we assume the Incarnation, in which the ineffable God of eternity is profoundly affected by us, and especially by the union with humanity in Jesus. The incarnation, among other things, also implies God’s willingness to make humanity a dialogue partner.[1] In other words, contra Rollins, 1) believing in God, and 2) what God says to me, cannot be separated.

Nonetheless, the sad fact is that much of popular evangelicalism in America in particular maintains a notion of God that is indeed akin to precisely what Rollins is criticizing. So in this respect, I think what Pete is doing is incredibly valuable. BUT, here’s the looming problem – Pete’s project provides a Christian form that is often without Christian content. It is a philosophy of the Event without a theology of divine action (i.e., Zizek, Badiou, etc.). And it is in this sense that what he is doing might be somewhat less valuable – even misleading.

Maybe Tony Jones really is being an “annoying wee troublemaker” – but it sure was funny! My challenge to Pete, if I can dare be so bold as to challenge someone who has otherwise completely been challenging me, is this: Keep doing what you’re doing! We do need it. But as long as you refer to yourself as as Christian, maybe read some orthodox theology from time to time as well – that way you can do something constructive and not just deconstructive with it when you talk to people – something other than turning Bonhoeffer or Pascal into figures that they were not As a postmodernist, can’t Marion be your guide more than Derrida? And even though this is exactly what you apparently mean not to do, can you figure out a way to give people the resurrection? Not as historical fact or even with metaphysics, and not because we need answers or cheap reassurance, but because doubt without hope – real hope – ultimately leads nowhere but to despair – even for the “doubter in denial” who needs to experience the rupture of the Real.

[1] Hans Urs von Balthasar, Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory : The Dramatis Personae : The Person in Christ (Balthasar, Hans Urs Von//Theo-Drama) (Ignatius Press, 1993), 72.

Filed Under: books, church history, emergent, philosophy, thinking

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