What The Hell Is A Post Evangelical Tea Party?
July 31, 2009
A simple google search for “post evangelical” will return a plethora of commentary on the term (some of my favorites: the very straight forward wikipedia entry, the standby internetmonk, an open source theology thread from 2003, and our fellow ccblogger notes from off center).
It would be very silly of me to launch into a comprehensive series of posts on the idea when so much has already been explained by those more capable (and internet savvy). However, the term displays prominently at the top of our blog right next to ‘tea party’ as if we all sit around counting doilies and discussing Mr. Darcy all day long and as far as I can tell, we’ve never actually sussed out just what that means.
I am especially guilty since it would seem I consistently use this slippery word as an adjective for my position on various issues right now and just smile coyly to myself as people sitting across from me as they scramble to figure out if that’s a postmodern, emergent, postdenomentational missional thing or whether I just made it up on the spot. (In truth, it gives me an inherent sense of superiority to be “post” whatever the person is whom I’m discussing things with. Post-girlfriend anyone?)
For some odd reason probably having something to do with either Shawn Wamsley or my slick redo of our sidebar, our traffic has increased in recent weeks and I’m delighted that many of our new readers and commenters come from worldviews outside the Christian sphere. If you’re new and reading this, I hope this post is useful for you.
Everyone who contributes to this blog came to Christianity in an Evangelical movement in the United States. None of us have remained.
This is the simplest use of the term on this blog and if nothing I say after makes any sense, I suggest we just stick to it. Some of us have found new movements to join, some have left conventional Christianity altogether and others are lost somewhere in the clouds.
Our reasons for leaving are as variable as our tastes in beer, which is to say, surprisingly not quite so varied—however, full of tiny quirks unique to our own persons. Shamelessly borrowing formatting from the wikipedia article because I’m on vacation and too tired to be creative on my own, I’d like to list some of these frustrations to which many of us can attest (I’ve also decided to add Exclamation points because most of us live in Minnesota where people really don’t show enough emotion):
1. Politicization of Faith!
The G Dub years were hard for me. I was a loyal supporter before I could even vote but by the end of his eight year reign, I couldn’t figure out why people kept telling me he was Christian, and why that necessarily meant I had to vote for him. An astute reader of the blog might observe that we still discuss our political convictions using Christian rationale, just often from the other pole. I would counter that such explanations are often more complicated than simple blind “good vs. evil” comparisons and that likely a particular politician we might support involves our reasoning of “shared goals” rather than “shared convictions.”
2. Unreasonable view of Scripture!
One of the two issues on this blog that will never quite go away. I don’t have much to add here. Look around, you’ll find it.
3. Inadequate Response to Homosexual Christians!
The other of the two issues that is never far from our recent comments list. There are a variety of stances on this issue on our blog—which is something, I’m proud of.
4. Militant Exclusivism and Preoccupation with Eschatology!
For those of us who grew up in a church or movement with a vibrant missions or Evangelistic focus, this issue remains difficult. Just what does it mean to share the good news? Am I accountable if I don’t “witness” to every single person I meet? Does hell exist? Are Christians the only people who go to “heaven.” And just what is heaven? And hey, what about my Muslim friends, I like them and I think that their faith is pretty cool and I’d rather they don’t change to be completely honest. Can God make a rock so big he can’t lift it?
5. Emphasis on Personal Piety over Social Responsibility!
Disgusted by mega church opulence and prosperity nonsense, post evangelicals are afflicted by the tension between holiness and justice. Maybe those hippies who joined the Peace Corps instead of the missions trip were on to something. And seriously, just how does my memorizing another scripture verse help people dying from Malaria in Africa?
6. Disconnect From Church History!
I’ve discussed this elsewhere. Old stuff matters and Evangelicals seemed determined to separate themselves from it.
7. Separatism and Alternative Culture!
More a personal pet peeve of mine. I can’t stand alternative Christian culture, music, movies, books etc… I find it to be a cheesy and crude attempt at unnecessary and harmful separation from “the world.” Seriously, why are Christians so weird?
8. Other Stuff!
Which I’m sure you guys will add in the comments.
Finally adding “tea party” to our blog tag line was really a throwaway thing I did when first designing the site. I suppose you could say its lighthearted or a reference to our mutual friendships and enjoyment of imbibing things but really, I just threw it in there on a whim.
In the conclusion of his work on the history of canonization, F.F. Bruce cites the hypothesis of Professor Kurt Aland that the New Testament canon has undergone the same narrowing of scope that the Old Testament received at the inception of the early Christian church. This narrowing has altered Christian thought so that there is an “inner canon” within those works recognized as Scripture.[1] This process is already acknowledged in the New Testament utilization of the Old Testament canon. While the authors of the New Testament professed that every word of Scripture is “θεόπνευστος” and therefore inspired, preference was clearly given to certain documents in their writing. This process continued through the early church, especially in relation to the apocryphal literature, until the Christian version of the Old Testament canon was established.
Bruce, then, interacts with Aland’s conclusion that this same process has begun for modern believers, but will not directly agree that the practice is a concerted effort to narrow the content of the modern canon. Rather, preferential usage is the de facto response of emotional and relational beings interacting with a living document. Bruce’s concern, of course, is to establish the integrity of the “rule” of faith for Christians. His conclusions are wise and fair, especially in that they defend the obligatory integration of centuries’ worth of historical thought and teaching on the matter. Additionally, Bruce contends that the discussion of an inner canon attempts to identify canonicity or inspiration in degrees, and digresses into a process of seeking material that is more inspired within that which has all been declared inspired.[2]
This arouses a question regarding the Apostolic and Ante-Nicene Fathers, though. According to Bruce, discussions regarding the doctrine of inspiration within the context of the early church must be understood in terms of canonicity and, especially, apostolicity.[3] If this is the case, is it not evident that the early church spent a great deal of effort disseminating the authority of documents based upon their proximity to Christ? Indeed, they only gave precedence over apostolicity to the very words of Christ expressed through eyewitnesses. Did this practice reveal that Aland’s narrowing of Scripture was not only endemic to a Christological view of the Old Testament canon but also in the earliest efforts to organize a canon, thereby biasing the formation of New Testament collection with the preference for an inner cannon among inspirational documents?
If a discussion about inspiration in the early church must be held within the context of apostolicity as Bruce has argued, then said discussion must include a review of the early fathers’ writings on apostolic authority regarding the canon. Specifically, did the early fathers exhibit biases for or against documents based on the idea of apostolicity, which, if proven, was a bias for documents that were more inspired? Though the notion is provocative, the reduction of the entire process of canonization that appropriates the early church’s acknowledgment and preference for apostolic authority to the whole product is not fair. Many of the early fathers undoubtedly expressed preference for some New Testament documents over others; however, the final product of canonization was a declaration that ultimately discouraged the emergence of an inner canon by virtue of its lengthy and ubiquitous process.
Apostolicity and Inspiration
If a patristic bias for certain apostolic documents did alter the formation or understanding of the New Testament canon, then it must be proven that apostolicity and the notion of inspiration[4] are indeed synonymous. Bruce contends that inspiration in the first century CE was most directly related to the work of the Holy Spirit in directing the prophets to write; and while the early fathers thought of New Testament documents in this regard, most of these authors do not base their authority on any such claim.[5] When most New Testament writers do find occasion to assert authority, they do so on the basis of apostolic authority or eyewitness testimony and not directly on the influence of the Spirit on their writing.[6] At the very least, this is evidence that the biblical writers carried no notion of a mechanical dictation; instead, their calling and separation by God to an apostolic ministry is what gave them authority. Looking back into the first century context, the modern reader cannot superimpose notions of textual authority.
“When most New Testament writers do find occasion to assert authority, they do so on the basis of apostolic authority or eyewitness testimony and not directly on the influence of the Spirit on their writing”
The derivation of authority does not originate from the occasion of their writing or the exact syntax of words and vocabulary. Rather, their authority is derived from concepts and the individuals who delivered them; the most important of these individuals was Jesus Christ and the Spirit through which his words were communicated.[7] This is also the perspective through which the early fathers would have seen the authority of documents in the first two centuries of the church. Without having established a doctrine of inspiration, their notion of authority was derived from an office, much like the authority afforded a prophet.
The important distinction is still that the Spirit led the endeavor, however. Interestingly, though, inspiration was not the trump card that the modern church would think. Clement, a contemporary of the apostolic writers claimed that Paul wrote with “true inspiration” and then makes a similar claim for his own letters, though he does not go as far as equating himself with Paul, though they had received the same Spirit of inspiration. Clement sees that there is a stark contrast between his authority and that of Paul, apostolicity.[8] Ignatius claims to write according to the mind of God, but will not command other churches that are under the authority of other bishops because he lacks the apostolic authority of someone like Peter and Paul.[9] The major concern was that the document displayed at least proximity to apostolic authority, because it was believed that a post-Pentecost community would display a wide range of gifts, including prophecy[10], but not everyone was called to be an apostle.
“It seems, looking back into the first century context, the modern reader cannot superimpose notions of textual authority without violating the early patristic testimony on apostolic authority. For them, it was one thing to write with the inspiration of the Spirit, and quite another to write with the authority of an Apostle.”
While this was not the only criterion for canonization, a document definitely would not have been recognized had there been no justification for apostolicity. Apostolic authority, where not directly necessary, was certainly implied in other criteria for canonicity in the early church. Bruce identifies that the antiquity and the orthodoxy that was so often demanded of documents functioned merely as concerns directly subsidiary to apostolicity.[11] In fact, even the occasion of understanding traditional use or catholicity in a document would be difficult without citing apostolicity at this point in history. For instance, according to Walls, Papias’ claim for the authority of the Gospels rests in the apostolicity of the authors, “To guarantee the truth of traditions was to demonstrate that they derived from an apostolic or quasi-apostolic source.”[12]
Walls also argues that authenticity was certainly the intended meaning behind apostolicity, but the early fathers like Papias would have still been concerned with literary preservation.[13] The culture of the early church, at the very least, was drastically different from the conditions in which the Jews maintained oral tradition for centuries. Consequently, the impetus behind the concern for literary preservation after Christ was not much different from problems the Jews faced in Babylonian exile.
Gonzalez believes that the main impetus behind such literary preservation would have been the rebuttal of Marcion and the Gnostics, but still maintains that canonization was a process and the Gospels and Pauline corpus received approval long before some other documents.[14] This may be an indication that there was some flexibility in oral tradition that could not be afforded in a written tradition. For this reason, the early church may have been careful about endorsing documents too eagerly. Nonetheless, it is clear that the early church was biased toward certain documents and the basis of that preference was apostolicity.
The early church’s understanding of inspiration, as a doctrine, appears even more circular. According to Bruce, “Books were included in the canon, it is believed, because they were inspired; a book is known to be inspired because it is in the canon.”[15] The church, when forming the canon, would have had little use for the modern sense of the doctrine. By the time Athanasius made his list in the fourth century, there was already a strong preference for documents that held inspiration and authority, but based on apostolicity. It is evident that this preference was not only tied to apostolicity, but that the apostolic authority of certain documents was presumed long before councils were arguing about the Catholic Epistles. This bias was so prevalent that some cities had been questioning the last documents to be approved for decades. A survey of patristic material will prove this bias to an extent, but the scope of its effect is yet to be seen.
[1] F.F. Bruce, The Canon of Scripture, (Downers Grove: Inter Varsity Press, 1988), 270-271.
[2] Ibid., 273.
[3] Ibid., 263-264.
[4] This must also be different from our doctrine of inspiration at this point in history.
[5] Ibid., 264-265.
[6] Ibid., 265-266.
[7] See Ernst Von Dobschütz, “The Abandonment of the Canonical Idea.” The American Journal of Theology, 19 (July 1915): 416-429. This is the conclusion at which Dobschütz arrives during the turn of the 20th century, but for different reasons. He seems to prefer a more allegorical approach to Scripture, but traces the origin and abandonment of these principles in the catholic tradition nonetheless.
[8] 1 Clem. 47.3, 63.2 cf 59.1, 47.1
[9] To the Romans 8.3, 4.3
[10] A notion widely accepted as the biblical equivalent to θεόπνευστος, which was originally a pronouncement of the Old Testament and the Spirit of prophecy.
[11] Bruce, The Canon of Scripture, 259.
[12] A.F. Walls, “Papias and Oral Tradition.” Vigiliae Christianae, 21 (September 1967): 138.
[13] Ibid., 139.
[14] Justo L. González, The Story of Christianity: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation, Vol. 1 (San Francisco: Harper, 1984), 63-66.
[15] F.F. Bruce, The Canon of Scripture, (Downers Grove: Inter Varsity Press, 1988), 263.
Christmas Came Early
July 31, 2009
I recently stumbled upon a problem. I would like some more books, but I don’t have money to buy them. As this blog is frequented by a fair number of educated pastors and laypeople, and since I can always review books, I threw in a couple requests to my favorite publishers to see if I could get my hands on some review books.
Low and behold, I looked at my front porch today, and found that Routledge Publishers had sent me a book. With another soon to come!
It’s like if you really loved chocolate, and someone decided to send you a box of fine Swiss delicacies for free, the only string being that you had to tell everyone how good the chocolate was. What a day.
So, after I read through the Routledge Introduction to Radical Orthodoxy, and its accompanying Reader, I will give a thorough review. I will even compare it to the Baker Academic Intro by James K A Smith, which I have already read.
Thank you Chelsee Pengal from Routledge, I look forward to reviewing the books.
Praying to Particles
July 30, 2009
In my last article I pondered some of the issues surrounding Deepak Chopra’s quantum theory of divinity. This post will jump further into the world of quantum physics. As before, I must preface with my own naivety when it comes to this field of discipline. The writing that inspired this post was an article in National Geographic entitled ” The God Particle”. The focus of this article is on the massive Hadron collider that is set to launch its most extensive tests later this year. In case you haven’t heard of this massive machine, let me give you a quick run down. The Hadron collider is a vortex of tubes and magnets which pulses high level particle beams through it at a high rate causing them to collide at its center. The purpose of this machine is multi-faceted. However, its overarching purpose is to see what happens when particles collide. 
Now in case you failed science class like I did, let me give a quick rundown of our current understanding of physical reality. Our material world is made up of tiny molecules. These tiny molecules can be broken down into Atoms. Beyond Atoms lies a world of particles which are classified as protons, neutrons, and electrons. Protons and neutrons can be broken down into quirks and gluon’s. As far as electrons, physicists think that these are foundational. Protons and neutrons are classified as hadrons, which give the collider its name. While there are many things that happen when particles collide, the one that fascinates me the most is the possible discovery of what has been coined “the god particle” (or the Higgs Boson particle as it is properly referred).
Broken down as simply as possible, the god particle is the carrier of what physicists theorize is a Higgs field. This field is what gives particles their mass. Borrowing from the physicist John Ellis, the Higgs field is like mud on a rainy day. As particles, like shoes, pass through the field, or mud, they collect varying amounts of mass dependant on their sub-atomic structure. Thus some bigger particles collect large quantities of mass, while some are so small that they simply float right over the surface without any growth. Put another way, the Higgs particle can be said to be the creator of life or mass in particles. So when particles collide and explode in a mess of energy it is theorized that the Higgs particle goes to work giving new mass to the ball of particles. This unseen creator is as close as one comes to the God of physicists. As of now, the god particle is the theorized core of all existence.
All of this is fascinating to me, but the real question is, so what? What does some underground particle collider have to with my personal understanding of God? The answer to this question is much simpler than quantum physics. Put colloquially, I want to know if I am praying to a bunch of particles. My spiritual journey to this point, has been about finding God. This is why I study and pray and worship. For most of my life I attempted this search under the constraints of a specific tradition of Christianity. Now I don’t mean to put down Christian tradition. All I am saying is that I have recently felt like the boundaries of Christianity were too limiting for me to find all I wanted of God. Thus I have undertaken the task of broadening my scope to include other religious traditions as well as secular ones. After all, I just want to find God, I don’t care who helps me get there. So when a group of physicists say they have found God and “he” is something called a Higgs field I listen to what they are saying. Now I understand many of the inherent weaknesses in this perspective of God. First of all, the Higgs field is a scientific theory ( which as many will point out is not much different than theology). Furthermore, even if God is a Higgs field, this doesn’t prove whether or not this field has a conscience or some form of intention in its creative design. Its quite possible that during the process of smashing particles together a white bearded man will emerge from the particle mayhem and declare himself Higgs God of the universe. Its also just as possible that no discernible field will come through. This experiment may end up proving only that the Higgs theory is incorrect. Whatever the result I will be watching just in case it turns out I’ve been praying to particles.
Wallace and the Hypostatic Union – Part III
July 29, 2009
The Hypostatic Union of Christ
The Hypostatic Union of Christ taught in the Chalcedonian Creed has a fine line to traverse, indeed. It must avoid the two major errors in contention up to 451AD: Apollinarianism and Nestorianism. Additionally, the Chalcedonian Creed must deal with the communicatio idiomatum. It is clear that the creed does not aim to solve any mysteries regarding the metaphysical co-subsistence of the two natures. In fact, a common argument leveled against the creed is that it does more to say what the union of Christ’s two natures is not than what it is. This problem is then left to philosophers and theologians who are faced with biblical facts that seem to contradict the orthodox position. One such situation is the position asserted by Wallace.
A more modern solution to the difficulties of what Chalcedon does not affirm is the Kenosis theory. Berkhof, especially, looks upon this theory with distaste, calling it “a pantheistic conception.”[1] While the kenotic theory is not preferred and most likely based on poor exegesis,[2] it articulates the metaphysical need for interaction between the two natures of Christ without blurring the lines into a single nature. Ronald Carson explains the difficulty of the biblical material thusly:
“The natures are not to be conceived of as being in any way mixed or blended; and yet there is a real exchange, a real communication of properties, in the case of the genus majesticum, the communication of divine attributes to Jesus Christ according to his human nature.”[3]
The stage is set for a stand off not unlike the one between the two camps on either side of the predestination and free will argument. Orthodoxy exclaims, accurately, what can be said positively and negatively about the direct statements in Scripture regarding Christ and the two natures. However, it does not speak directly to the metaphysical difficulties the likes of which Wallace has presented in his article. Rather than reject Chalcedon or prematurely accept kenosis, it may be helpful to review an article by Stephen W. Need.
Need wants us to examine the use of language in forming theological principles, especially as they relate to Chalcedon and Christology. He finds elucidating information in the examination of language. Specifically, he wants readers to accept the limitations of what our language is capable. Need offers the concept of an understanding on the basis of “double vision” in conceptualizing our theological notions, saying, “Human language relates to the divine in a way that is neither merely expressive nor permanently true.”[4] As much as our words are concrete, they should be given the freedom to express in their limited scope the larger infinite impossibility of our understanding the metaphysical postulations surrounding the hypostasis of Christ.
Need solidifies this claim by citing the use of metaphor, not only in theological propositions, but also in the biblical record as well. There is no shortage of people willing to acquiesce to the claim that our language is incapable of explaining the nature of God. There must also be no shortage of people willing to concede that even Christ, in dealing with the shortcomings of language, resorted to the use of metaphor in theological proposition.
“Metaphor constitutes an important element of human speech about God; its double element yields a tensive interaction. While articulating truth at one level, metaphors are usually literally false. They contain an “is and is not” structure, a simultaneous affirmation and denial. This gives them specific power and richness.”[5]
Need proposes, then, that this use and understanding of metaphor should also, and especially, be extended to Chalcedon. While the Chalcedonian creed would certainly not be labeled a metaphor by most, one wonders how helpful such an analysis would be in healing the disparity between the natures of Christ and the shortcoming of the adverbs ”inconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly and inseparably” used in the creed. He proposes that the etymology of these adverbs leads the reader to the conclusion that Chalcedonian Christology, “affirms unity between the defining characteristics of two things: a common derivation, continuity, or unity between the logos and the Father, on the one hand, and between Jesus’ humanity and that of humans, on the other.”[6]
Based on Need’s proposition of metaphor, the Chalcedonian Creed does not avoid speaking to the metaphysical. Instead, it offers a dynamic and fluid relationship between the two natures of Christ. Chalcedon in the true fashion of theological language is a set of guidelines or restrictions. If, then, Wallace does not violate what is implicitly stated as the positive or negative qualities of the hypostatic union, there seems to be some metaphysical ‘wiggle room’ afforded in orthodoxy.
Conclusion – Wallace’s Use of Attributes and Orthodoxy
How, then, does Wallace’s proposition for moral and amoral attributes coincide with orthodoxy? If we consider the premise of Need’s work to be sound, which we should, then Wallace has a good chance of conformity to orthodox teaching. The greatest challenge that Wallace’s proposition faces is the potential for his teaching to be misconstrued as dividing the attributes of God. However, he is in the company of Erickson who prefers to use a modification of the natural and moral division of God’s attributes.[7] Certainly, Wallace’s designation is similar in effect. The strength of Wallace’s proposition is that it derives basic information from sound biblical exegesis. There is a point in our theological posturing where even the orthodox creeds must bow to the supremacy of Scripture (yes, you heard me say that – quit gasping fellow Episcopalians).
Philosophically, Wallace’s designation of God’s attributes is preferable. Citing the biblical material, it offers the strength of speaking to the metaphysical interaction between the natures of Christ. In comparison to the work of Need, Wallace’s distribution has the strength of utilizing the metaphorical nature within the confines of Chalcedonian Christology. He does not purport that Christ grew into his divinity, but rather elements of that divinity were mitigated by the work of the Spirit in His life. Wallace thus makes a way for Christ’s humanity to be more significant than even Chalcedon allows, while also affording Christ the fullness of deity. We see in his understanding of the attributes of God, a careful estimation of how to reconcile the biblical material to orthodox teaching. It is an effort that has helped us to understand better the interaction of the dual natures of Christ. Ultimately, it may take modern theology time to round the corner, but efforts on behalf of thinkers like Wallace may smooth the path to an increasingly perfect theology.
[1] Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 328.
[2] See John G. Gibbs, “The Relation between Creation and Redemption According to Phil. II 5-11.” Novum Testamentum 12 (July 1970): 270-283. Specifically, he points to the focus of the passage being the work Christ came to the earth to do, “That Paul’s purpose was more to describe the work of Christ than present a metaphysic of the person of Christ is evident, also, in the fact that he does not elucidate the relation between “the form of God” and the ‘the form of a slave.”
[3] Ronald A. Carson, “The Motifs of ‘Kenosis’ and ‘Imitatio’ in the Work of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, with an Excursus on the ‘Communicato Idiomatum.’” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 43 (September 1975): 546.
[4] Stephen W. Need, “Language, Metaphor and Chalcedon: A Case of Theological Double Vision.” The Harvard Theological Review 88 (April 1995): 238.
[5] Ibid., 243.
[6] Ibid., 248.
[7] Erickson, Christian Theology, 293.
A Theology of the Bible?
July 28, 2009
One of the first threads that we collaborated on here on the site was one about “Authority” in Christianity. It is something that all non-Roman Catholics need to think about. We went over some bible and sola scriptura stuff. But a few recent comment threads have begged the question again of what Scripture is by it’s nature.
The exchange is usually in agreement that Scripture is authoritative, and even inspired, but how it is and what that means is what we tend to disagree about. So I thought I’d give this another stab, though, as always, I make no claims to being infallable (or is it inerrant?) on this.
I want to start first with some apophaticism (or ‘negative’ theology). It might be easier to begin by asking what is Scripture not?
The Bible is NOT:
- A ‘pure’ reproduction of “God’s words” - That is, the writers were not transcribers. Our understanding of God’s Words in the bible are absolutely different than an Islamic understanding of Allah’s words in the Quran.
- A list of propositional truths about God’s actions or nature – There are two ways I mean this. A) I do not support the “univocity” of God’s “being” and our “being.” And so, even if we took a certain statement from Scripture concerning God to be “true”, it is to us only analagous to what God is in his essence. B) ‘A “proof-text” does not a proposition make’
- Inspired in the same way throughout the whole – Ad hoc pastoral direction in pseudo-pauline letters are not as authoritative as sustained theological reflection in, say, Romans or the Gospel of St. John
- A single massive book – It is a collection of books which where shaped canonically and which underwent a canonical history (btw, I happen to think the Hebrew Bible order makes the most sense theologically)
- In any way shape or form; Inerrant OR Infallable – The two are, after all, exactly the same thing. One for the ballsy fundamentalist, the other for the conservative Evangelical who wants to read the scholars. *more comments on this below*
- Authoritative – WHAT!? That is to say, the book, lying on a coffee table, does not in itself have authority. God exerts his authority through Scripture upon the reading community. The unread text has no authority.
I imagine that is enough of a bee’s nest to get me in trouble around here (with some). But I want to explore some other things which I feel must be accounted for in a theology of Scripture. I myself do not know how to reconcile them all together, nonetheless I feel that they all contribute to what Scripture IS. Though, it seems to me that what Scripture IS is not quite as important as what it DOES.
A theology of Scripture must include…
- The reality of the history of individual texts - To understand how God reveals himself to his people, and how Scripture is itself a “revelation” of God, then the idea of God’s inspiration of the biblical texts must be open to the embodied, political, checkered history of individual texts and texts as they relate to one another. For instance: It is standard scholarly opinion that the prophetic book of Isaiah is a redacted collection of three distinct books, written at three distinct times, collected, elaborated upon, and redacted together at a point in the late exilic/early post-exilic period. This is not to say that they do not contain a fair amount of the real words and trajectories of the prophet Isaiah, nor is it to say that as it stands it does not provide a coherent piece of “prophetic imagination,” nor is it to say that it should be interpreted chopped up to bits. It is to say that the complex history of the text as it came to it’s final shape as a unity, and as a book in the canon, must be accounted for in a theory of its “inspiration.” This is one example why I place the work of the Holy Spirit in the believing Community at the forefront of my understanding of what Scripture is.
- The relation of texts to one another – There are times, within the Scripture themselves, when one text purposely aims to alter the theological and/or historical claims of other Scriptural texts. A paradigmatic example of this is the history of Israel given to us by the Chronicler over and against many parts of the “deuteronimistic” history of Kings or the other related historical texts. Or the tensions in the NT between the chronology/theology of Acts and Paul’s own picture in his letters, or the corrective of the letter of James to the writings of St. Paul.
- The comparison of the hard texts themselves, via Textual Criticism – I am well aware that the vast majority of textual variants are minor and irrelevant. But not all are, and the method can only bring us “back” to the “earliest texts available” and not necessarily the “original text.” What does it mean to say that the book of Acts in Codex Bezae is inspired?
- The reality of “borrowing” from other texts/cultures/myths – What does it mean to say that Genesis is both inspired and that it is a creative and subversive retelling of other creation myths from other peoples?
- The ad hoc nature of certain parts of Scripture – As for instance in certain parts of St. Paul
- etc…
So far, this is all to say that what Scripture IS cannot be separated from where it has come from and how it came to be. Because, it seems to me, that what is of greatest importance in all this is how God reveals himself, and only secondarily how he does this in/through Scripture.
For a variety of complex reasons, most of which are probably beyond my comprehension, I have slowly come to place Holy Scripture into a larger framework of God’s revelation. Karl Barth’s 3-fold understanding of the Word of God has been helpful for me in reflection:
- The Word of God in/as Christ… - Jesus Christ himself is the logos of the Father. Especially in his death and resurrection, we get a the supreme picture of what God is and what his will for us is.
- …Witnessed to in Scripture… – If we want to use Scripture to understand God, it must be read through a Paschal lens
- …Preached in the community of faith – It comes to us as something handed down which transforms us and re-imagines us and the world.
So there it is. My completely unsystematic understanding of what it means to say that Scripture is inspired. It’s not pretty but it’s where I’m at. It is still the primary source of theological reflection for us as Christians, it is functions authoritatively in the Church, and when used faithfully can be counted on to unveil the God whom we worship. To use Anglican terminology, it is “sufficient unto salvation”
*epilogue* – If someone can give me a thorough and clear way to differentiate inerrancy and infallability I’ll give them $5. Adding qualifiers like “in matters of faith” as opposed to “matters of history” do not count since they can and have applied to both terms. As far as I can tell, these terms are used to safeguard the authority of Scripture in a community and are not actually relevant or true in regards to the nature of Scripture. Hence why a 5-fold Pentecostal can be fully recognized by a conservative Baptist. They are tied into the agreed formula of authority in Scripture, despite their wildly varying readings of Scripture. Their differences are no less wide than they are to Mainline understandings of Scripture, but as long as they have the “secret handshake” of “inerrancy” or “infallability” they get along. The more Evangelicals do exegesis, the more qualifiers they add to the terms. Just get rid of them!!!
Legal Copy
July 27, 2009
(Keep in mind this is more like the formation of a thought, as opposed to a well established viewpoint.)
If you die and go to heaven, are you unable to “mess up” from that point on? I don’t mean this in a “free-will” sort of way, as if suggesting that once a person gets to heaven they’re a robot or something, unable to do anything but strum a harp and bounce around from cloud to cloud forever and ever.
What I mean is, if Lucifer, as a created being, was able to … fall, to sin, while in the presence of God (as did Adam and Eve while in the garden, although there was some nice looking fruit involved); then do you or I have any better chance at eternal security after death? Or did I just miss that in the Salvation* fine print of one of the Gospels, like so much legal copy at the bottom of televised car ads.
Put another way: Even if you’re not a once-saved-always-saved Calvinist in this life, if you believe once-in-heaven-always-in-heaven, would that be a sort of Posthumous Calvinism**?
Theoretically, even if I live a good Christian life, even if I accept Jesus as my personal lord and live by the law of love, even if I spread the good word and get welcomed into heaven; I might be able to still fall from grace after the fact. And if that happens after the earth is finally judged and destroyed with fire (and all the rest of that Revelation stuff), it would seem the only other place to be sent would be Hell.
But… Hell is the place reserved for people who either willingly reject or never accept Christ in this life, right?
But (I know, another but) if this is all theoretically possible, which I think you must admit it is at the very least an interesting topic, then what’s the point of serving God and getting into heaven in the first place?
I’m sure I’m missing some obvious components right now, but it just seems all too likely that if Lucifer could fall before original sin, if he and a third of the angels could rebel, (and they supposedly didn’t even have fee will, but either way), then any one of us could do the same in the hereafter.
Given enough time, and eternity seems awfully long, I think heaven could eventually be a very quiet place.
Thoughts?
Tony Hunt
jstambaugh
Shawn Wamsley
