Tony SigFirst, a blessing from our dear reader Josh:

Bene dic, Domine, creaturam istam cerevisae, quam ex adipe frumenti producere dignatus es: ut sit remedium salutare humano generi: et praesta per invocationem nominis tui sancti, ut, quicumque ex ea biberint, sanitatem corporis, et animae tutelam percipiant. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen

Bless, O Lord, this creature beer, that Thou hast been pleased to bring forth from the sweetness of the grain: that it might be a salutary remedy for the human race: and grant by the invocation of Thy holy name, that, whosoever drinks of it may obtain health of body and a sure safeguard for the soul. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Of all beeresies, Docetism is the single most pervasive.  Because what seem to many to be good beers in fact are terrible beers.  We’ve all heard it before, “No, really…it’s a good beer.”  I’m afraid to tell you, it is pork swill, worse, it is putting you in dangers of the eternal fires of hell, which do exist for all beeretics despite whatever Rob Bell and Karl Barth told you.

And thus the Theophiliacs shall not back down from it’s duty to preach the whole gospel.  Speaking the truth in love, we will proclaim the pure light of the everlasting word against all foul attempts of the enemy to deceive with pretty labels and fancy sell-words like “European.”  We all know he appears as an angel of light.

So consider closely the following beers which often fly under the docetic banner:

PBR – “But Tony, you’re a hipster, aren’t you?  Or at least that’s what all your friends tell me.  Aren’t they supposed to like PBR?”  I don’t know if my skinny pants and ironic smile make me a hipster, but the nostalgic revival of this vile beverage is most unfortunate.  Yes, the tall can is romantic and pretty, it makes you think back to a bygone age when you could work a blue-collar job in Milwaukee, come home, sit in a lounger in a sleeveless T-shirt in front of a fan and beat your wife, but despite what people tell you, this beer is a crime against the name, no better than any of it’s other cohorts of lesser repute – I’m looking at you, Miller!

Heineken – It’s hard to know whether to describe the beer or just say that when I was a waiter, the only people I saw drink this were 45 year old slick-haired polo-shirt-wearing business men ‘dating’ 19 girls who drank this between vodka-red bulls to keep the night going.  A mass-lager is a mass-lager is a mass-lager, even if it’s from Europe and comes in a fancy green bottle.

Killians Irish Red – Look, I can add red food coloring to urine, chemically modify it to form a thin head when poured, bottle and chill it, but that doesn’t make it good.  This sad flavorless ale utilizes it’s bright color to trick people into believing it is better than it is, but drink it alongside a Hamm’s Can and you won’t be able to tell the difference.   Especially unfortunate is when anyone in Minnesota drinks this child’s drink, what with Finnegan’s Irish Amber in so many venues.  Not only is it delicious, it’s made with real potatoes and all profits go to charity!

Stella Artois – cf. Heineken, only add the travesty that it’s $9 for a six pack and some scorn on the fact that it has social respectability.  ”Ooohhh, is that Stella Artois?  My, aren’t you fancy?”  No ma’am, he’s just a benighted fool taken in by the fact that, having drunk it, he’s allowed to say “Artois” 20 times to sound cool.

Blue Moon – Aspiring to be the Budweiser of Wheat Beers since 1995.  I mean Coors brews it for god’s sake!  It’s one thing to add an orange slice because it’s a beautiful yet unnecessary touch to an already fine beer, it’s another when the citrus only masks the flavor of shame.

Heresy is no laughing matter, and docetism has struck most of us at various points.  Often we don’t know better.  But beware!  You must hold the catholic faith to be saved, and now you have been warned.  Turn away from these beers and return to the true doctrine.

Tony SigIn the most recent edition of The Christian Century (of whose blog network we are a “featured blog”), Methodist bishop Will Willimon addresses some of his previous work – most of which was done in tandem with his holiness Stanley Hauerwas – with a bit of embarrassment.

“In the student’s puerile response you hear an echo of your own pronouncement – but on undergraduate lips the thought sounds unbearably stupid.  I’ve come to feel a bit that way upon rereading Resident Aliens” p22

In the article +Willimon goes on to repudiate the idea that “Christianity is a practice” because he thinks that it fails to account for the distinctives of Christian belief.  He worries that the approach previously espoused by himself can run the risk of old style Christian liberalism that universalizes and unparticularizes the faith, rendering it one practice among many with a formless god.

I absolutely sympathize with the bishop’s belief that emphasizing “practice” can collapse any sense of “orthodoxy” into a moralism of “praxis.”  Liberalism is pretty lame. BUT…

The idea of separating one from another is indicative of a wrong view of both “orthodoxy” and “orthopraxy.”  Not too unlike the false separation of “theology” from “spirituality.”

If I might be allowed the indulgence of disagreeing with someone who will most likely forever be known as one of America’s greatest bishops, it is by our “practices” that we can come to know anything of “the qualitative difference” between God and ourselves.

On the one hand there is the practice of daily devotion and the celebration of the Mass, especially the Eucharist.  These are the “practices” which shape our minds, bodies and hearts to think as the Church.  Reading Scripture, praying in word and in silence, confessing our sins, praising in doxology – these in part teach us how to the know God as the Church knows God.  +Willimon should fear that we will have any content to our faith without these “practices.”

And on the other hand, we put our worship into action with other “practices…”  Justice, mercy, compassion etc…  These too teach us of the God we worship.  If we “practice”  just the “devotion” and neglect the “justice,” we fail to be Christ in the world; and if we reduce the faith to moralism we malign our God revealed in Jesus Christ.

But, and here’s the kicker, it’s all “practice.”

So don’t despair of your previous work bishop Willimon, it’s still good as gold.

Reed Signature
The following essay was written by my imaginary friend for a short bio he needed for a church project. I’ve posted it here with his permission.

By: Linus Spindrift

I grew up in a die hard progressive Episcopalian family. We attended Holy Communion weekly and were very involved volunteering in our local community. I always loved church, even as a child. The bright colors of the vestments, the candles, the smell of incense (our parish was quite high church) and mystery of the Eucharist enticed me from an early age. As I grew older, I came to appreciate the values and morals I learned from our priest and felt myself growing into my place in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.

At the same time I felt myself coming of age into the body of Christ. I also began to recognize that there was something different about me. In my early teenage years when the other boys were just starting to discover what freedoms there were available to young, viral men in a liberal movement, I began fantasizing about having a future wife and a family. Long after my friends grew out of praying and singing to God, I continued the Christian disciplines on my own, secretly, still believing that maybe, someone was actually listening to me.

When I was fourteen I made the mistake of confessing to my best friend that I read the Bible privately, for no reason other than the fact that I enjoyed some of the stories and thought that maybe God might be speaking to me through them. He was shocked and couldn’t understand how anyone could ever feel that way. He thought that maybe I was threatening him.

“You’ve never felt that God was ever saying anything to ME through the Bible, have you?” he accused me, visibly disgusted that I would ever even consider it. The truth was, I really had felt like God might be wanting me to encourage him in some small way, but after this confrontation, I knew my fantasy of discussing Christ with my friend would never be realized.

I quickly denied it and tried to pass off the whole conversation as joke but it didn’t work. Word spread quickly around school that I was a “bigot.” Kids picked on me and called me “ignorant” and “hate-mongerer.” I lost all my friends who treated me like I had some sort of disease. I had to change prep schools.

I learned from this experience that there was something inside of me that was deeply and utterly wrong. But I knew with the help of almighty Knowledge, I might be able to be healed of my unnatural attraction to Traditional Liturgy. At my next school I tried really hard to be a good, liberal Protestant. I never told anyone what I believed or why I believed it ever—even if they asked me and seemed like they genuinely wanted to know. I apologized to every minority I could for colonizing their land. Whenever I met someone who acted like they knew God in an intimate way, I quickly joined my friends in accusing them of being an exclusivist and a fundamentalist.

There were a few occasions while reciting the creeds at Church when I felt a powerful urge to confess them as a believer. I soon learned, however, to always quell this forbidden desire, knowing that it was more natural for me to join in the doubting gymnastics all the other parishioners were performing in their minds.

Things went really well like this for a few years. I graduated high school and completed my undergrad at a local private college (Double Major: Sociology and Arabic). I entered the discernment process and prepared to enter seminary. Along the way I tried really hard to be attracted to other religions. I had a fling with Buddhism for a few years and thought that I might even marry it with Christianity to make some sort of super religion. Ultimately, it didn’t work out, however. My buddhist companions said that all I ever wanted to do was talk. That’s when it all fell apart.

I had my first Christian Conversion experience in the deserted men’s locker room of a YMCA. A stranger was praying silently at his locker next to mine. He had his Bible out to Luke 23. I approached him, thinking I might enlighten him on how Jesus didn’t actually resurrect from the dead but that it was OK, since society was ethical enough now not to need him to have resurrected anyway. He listened patiently to my statements. I thought I was doing him a favor just by tolerating his blatant bigotry right there in public. He pointed to the verses that discussed the other criminals being crucified with him. He asked me to read verse 42.

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” I recited, surprised that the hateful man was using a scholarly translation.

He asked me what I thought that verse meant. I gave him some disjointed answer, and now I’m not even sure what I said. At some point I realized I had no idea what that verse meant. That’s when he proceeded to tell me about his previous intimate relations with Jesus.

I wont go into the details (I understand that descriptions of these intense situations can still be offending to certain progressive sensibilities) but what followed can only be described as absolute freedom. I felt that years of lies and deceit fell away from me as I embraced who I really was—what love really was! It hit me in that locker room: I was an Orthodox Christian—a flamer on fire for God. And my life would never be the same.

I kept my discovery a secret for another few months. On the weekends I would sneak out secretly at night to a library in a seedy part of town to discuss N. T. Wright with one, two or sometimes even three others like me. I developed an addiction to hardcore patristics on my home computer. It was a secret life that I couldn’t contain. I was excited and shaken and scared all at the same time. I met a beautiful Christian woman who came from a nice family in the suburbs. Her name was Beth. We fell in love. She was the one who gave me the strength to come out to my parents.

“Mom and Dad,” I began slowly, “I’m…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m a fallen sinner in need of redemption.”

My mom just about flipped out. My dad just stared at me emptily, disappointed. They’d always dreamed of me growing up to be a world renowned professor of comparative religion at a public college where I could debunk the myths of Evangelical undergrads. Now here I was talking about the Trinity—in their home! Worse, they were immediately distrustful of the clean-cut, well-mannered and traditional Beth and I’m so proud of her for enduring so much suspicion for those first few months.

At one point my mom asked, “Linus, have you ever tried… just, not… being Orthodox?”

She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand that this was who I was now. Maybe even who I’d always been.

A few years have passed since I came out. Beth and I are married now with two kids. Thankfully, my parents have slowly come to accept my alternative way of life. I think once they saw that my Orthodoxy wasn’t hurting anyone—that I could still love people even if I disagreed with them—they warmed up to the new me. Over these years I’ve had some time to reflect on my journey and the prejudices of those I grew up with. It has occurred to me that maybe some of the stereotypes associated with Orthodox Christians might not be too far off from some of us, and for this, I’m disappointed.

I’m happy to report that I’m still an Episcopalian and I’m still in my same liberal diocese. I love my church, for all the reasons I did as a child, plus more. I’m more than happy to minister along side of, accept communion from, and serve under the liberals I once tried so hard to be like. I am a catholic Christian after all! It’s difficult sometimes because many in my diocese still don’t accept me. But I believe God can change hearts.

I still hope to be a priest some day but the opposition is strong. It’s hard to change old patterns and there is still a lot of distrust of Orthodox Christians amongst progressives. The current climate in the Anglican Communion hasn’t helped heal these perceptions. From my studies, I’ve learned that ordination isn’t a right, but a privilege, a service that one is called to—not earned or deserved. I pray that God would one day call me to that place of service to his Church. Until then, I’ll just have wait and keep telling my story.

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“Flux” is a continuing series on my year visiting churches of various Christian traditions.

Flux I: Introduction Flux II: Old Stuff Flux III: Coming Soon

I first experienced Eastern Orthodoxy as a 21-year-old traveling through Ukraine. Even then, the tradition enchanted me. At the time I was interning with a missions organization working in Eastern Europe. I knew that many of the churches we were helping to plant were located in heavily Eastern Orthodox or Roman Catholic areas. It was also become increasingly clear that these traditions were undoubtedly Christian, perhaps in some ways even more Christian than me. So why are we evangelizing Christians? I wondered.

It was the opening spark of a lesson that took me a few years to learn: old stuff matters.

By “old stuff,” I mean the bulk of the ancient practices and symbols many modern Evangelicals (both intentionally and unintentionally) learned to de-emphasize or ignore. In my studies, I realized there were a number of questions I’d never fully explored: where did the Bible come from? who first outlined concepts like the dual-natures of Christ and the Trinity? what is our modern conception of hell based on? Many of the answers to these questions were found in studying the first few centuries of Christianity, an area of scholarship sometimes called Patristics or a little more broadly, Christian Origins.

I learned that whether one recited the creeds in church or not, they were formative and part of our shared Christian heritage. Whether one appreciated liturgy or found it dull, it was influential in shaping modern forms of worship. I learned that Sacramental theology left a precedent for how we expected to experience God–even if one didn’t look for Him in Eucharist anymore. Most importantly I learned that issues like church governance, division, authority, human sexuality and the role of the Church in the world were problems as old as Pentecost.

Perhaps most poignantly, however, I was struck by how bewitching the tradional forms of worship could be. The ancient liturgies enchanted me, the Icons arrested me–I felt myself being pulled into something older and bigger and altogether more enveloping than my previous, more individualistic Church experiences had been. All my life, I had endeavored to maintain the right belief or “Apostolicity*” of my faith. But it wasn’t until my year of visiting Churches, that I was first introduced to its commanility or “Catholicity**.”

* (Apostolicity in this case, just means the faith of Apostles, or what was handed down to us.)
** (Catholic not in the Roman sense, but in it’s older meaning of ‘universal’ or ‘entirety).

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NOTE: This post is part of a larger series discussing Ecclesial Authority

Part I: Introduction

Part II: Scripture

Part III: Tradition

Part IV: History/Reason

Part V: Personal and Communal Experience

Part VI: Authority Revisited (UNFINISHED)

There’s a reason these thoughts find their way to you as a blog post and not as an essay. As I see it, essays are for telling people what you think, how you thought it, and perhaps why they should consider thinking it too. Blog posts, however, take you right to the middle of the struggle—to that place in the formation of the essay when a person still doesn’t know what to believe, is still unaware of their own presuppositions, and doesn’t know where they’ll end up. I see this dilemma as a fundamental problem confronting my faith. I hope that this discussion will help me in reaching a resolution. (A quick survey of the internets revealed that blogs are often also used for feminine lament, celebrity gossip, and angry rants against Sarah Palin. Though I might have much to add to these discussions, I’ll try to avoid them here.)

This post is about Authority in the church. Authority is necessary for creating unity, finding identity, and resolving disputes. It’s my hope that at the end of this journey I will be able to decipher a solution to this dilemma.

Fully admitting I have a lot to learn about Ecclesiology, I’ve none-the-less broken down what I see as the four Alternatives vying for the place of chief Authority in the church. If they sound familiar it’s because I based this off of the “Wesleyan Quadrilateral.”

While most Christians would admit that each of these must be present in the Church, they vary as to which will hold the trump card when two or more of the Alternatives disagree with each other. Below I have listed these four, attempted to distinguish (broadly) the faith traditions that hold to them as Chief Authority, outlined their basic argument and listed what I see as pros and cons of their position. At the end I will explain what I hope to see come from this discussion.

Finally, I will admit that I carry a number of presuppositions into this post. Most obviously are those that God exists, I connect with him through the Church, and that the life and death of Jesus has some sort of spiritual significance for my life. These play out probably most obviously below in what I call Pros and Cons. For many, what I might consider a negative for one Alternative, they might actually believe to be a positive, and vice versa. While I’d like to concentrate more on what I’ve posted here, if someone wants to question me on these presuppositions I’m not opposed to discussing them.

On Christian Identity

August 8, 2008

Tony Sig
I suppose that for me, even if in a small and uncomplicated way, my search for understanding our identity as Christians started when I was in High School. My Church was squarely in the middle of three small towns, Monticello, Big Lake, and Becker. So it should come as no surprise that my Church contained people from those three towns, as well as others. By chance most of my friends in Youth Group were a year younger than me and did not attend school in Monticello where I did. Being the good young Christian that I was, I sought out other Christian friends at school because at the time I could only be friends with a non-Christian if I was trying to convert them. As it so happened, when I first started attending school, even before I had made close friends at church, I was sought out and befriended by members from the Youth Group out of the C.hristian M.issionay A.lliance church in town, it was just down the road from my church.

Old Timey Monticello, MN

Old Timey Monticello, MN

I vaguely remember being taught a resentment for some Catholics (by whom I do not recall), and a general distrust of those who did not speak in tongues, but I suppose that I had a fairly unique upbringing considering the Classical Pentecostal background from which I came. My father, always the simple and pious man that he is, even to this day, not being trained in Systematics did not make degrade other denominations. For him it was enough if they knew and sought the Spirit. I love him. Nonetheless, it was inescapable not to look down on others who did not experience the ecstasy to which I was accustomed. “Those gentiles without ‘tongues’ (or was it the Torah?), what do they know of God? Do they not read their Bibles? Again, I do not remember when or how these ideas crept into my head, but just watch the movie “Jesus Camp” to see how easy it can happen.
My friendship with the local CMA church blossomed all through my High School years. We would TP or fork each others yards; they once even hung a spare car door from one of the trees outside my house, where they got it I do not know. Despite the fact that I spent more time with my friends from Youth Group than with my CMA friends we still were close. I remember consoling them when their Youth Pastor had an emotional affair and was asked to leave the Church. I know that at least two of them are in ministry today.

All this is to say that it was not until my senior year or later that I looked back on my relationship with my friends and began to ask the question: “Does doctrine and/or experience matter?” This question was especially exasperated when I realized that these kids lived out their faith just as passionately as my friends and I did from the Assemblies Church. Most likely I still would have had questions about the Lutherans and Catholics in my town, but as I have come to better understand these sects, I am now more able to comprehend why they did not seem as ‘holy’ as me (at least as I defined holy) at the time. Eventually the great irony would come to me when I learned that the AG was born out of the CMA. Now that I am somewhat older, more experienced and more learned I find the question magnified. Considering there has always been doctrinal development, and considering the literally thousands of different Christian sects, all with degrees of variety, I wonder all the more, is there a nugget that is Christianity? Is there something that we all have in common and from which or toward which we might begin to come together? There is no question that our being apart harms us more than helps us. It damages our witness concerning God, it damages us when one outside considers the dogmatism of one group and rightfully points out that some other church down the road is not as harsh. Or from the other side, I read the comment of a confused lesbian from the AG who finds it disconcerting that she can just go down the road to a different church if she wanted to. Is it desirable or even possible to come together? What would be the benefits? The downsides? How does our exclusive claim of salvation as preached in our pulpits fair in a pluralistic Christianity? I know that I cannot even scratch the surface of these difficult questions. Still it is a topic that I feel compelled, even called to address.

Unity: Correct Belief, Correct Practice, common Tradition
However one throws the die, and however much different factions would beg to differ, Christianity cannot be reduced to any one of these three things: Correct Belief, Correct Practice, and common Tradition. Many circles tend to overemphasize Correct Belief. This would include even Roman Catholics and the Orthodox, although they never reduce the Faith only to this. This would at first seem to be quite an ‘enlightened’ form of our religion because it places little or no emphasis on ‘outward’ signs or actions, and so makes Christianity dependent on nothing but our ‘faith’ in God as properly discerned. This emphasis also seems at first glance to portray God in glowing terms as a God of ‘grace’ who is not interested in results because He knows that we could never live up to His demands. Most of us, having been raised in very ‘low’ Protestantism have reacted against this emphasis and now do not know what to believe, myself included. That is because the flaws in this system are raw and glaring after only a minor examination. The most obvious critique is that in none of our fellowships does everyone believe everything the same way (no Reed, not even the Orthodox). This is maybe one universal truth for all of Christianity throughout all of history.

A figure in early Christianity said, sadly with all seriousness, that Orthodoxy is that which has been believed by all, in all places, for all time. What a ridiculous statement indeed.

Even such foundational ideas as the Trinity and shape of the Canon have not been commonly understood for all of our history, and so Right Belief cannot stand by itself, not just because it is a narrow ideal, but because it is absolutely unattainable. Dogma also tends to be broadened out too far so that every minor belief is required of Christians in order to maintain good standing in the community, and even to be assured eternal salvation. For instance the nature and purpose of the Eucharist tend to be a litmus test in some communities, with ‘Scriptural Inerrency’ being one in others.

An overwhelming emphasis on Right Belief also tends to be shallow in that it often de-emphasizes the role of Right Practice so as to maintain a fierce emphasis on the ‘grace’ of God. Right Practice becomes an add-on to the Christian life, something that is ideal, but as long as one feels guilty for not putting the ‘Sermon on the Mount’ values into practice, guilt is usually enough to assuage the actual action. Or just as bad, Orthopraxy becomes only a tool in the hand of Evangelism, something used to manipulate people into ‘accepting Jesus as their Savior.’ In these type of circumstances Orthopraxy is usually a salve, an act of charity which rarely achieves what one might call ‘Justice’. It is not interested in challenging ‘politics’ and making things right, but mostly in setting up ministries that are like balm on a wound, when in this age of the Spirit we should be healing the wound. Not that these are bad things by any means, but the aggressive pursuit of Justice is generally left up to governments to deal with. It is because of this that Evangelicals are chastised as hypocritical. Church History and the role of Tradition also tend to be neglected when Orthodoxy is overemphasized.

Tradition played a zero role in my Christian upbringing. The closest that we got to Church History was reading the book of Acts. Even there it was read in a ‘biblical’ way which tended to overspiritualize things and undervalue the book as history. It was more of ‘proof’ that everybody should be speaking in tongues. Even in those Protestant churches where history is taught it used only to legitimize the need for the Protestant Reformation, usually chastising and blaming ‘Catholics’ for the period of Church History after Acts until Luther. It has no normative use for modern Church decisions, and the idea of it being ‘authoritative’ is rejected as Reformers are only interested in the Bible. This is so laughable because the doctrinal decisions of the Reformers are viewed as the only ‘Orthodox’ way to read the Bible and so even in churches that are supposedly ‘Bible’ only churches, tradition plays a severe and choking authoritative role, preventing fresh readings of Scripture and sweeping under the rug the fact that Tradition played and plays an important, yes authoritative role in their Ecclesial and dogmatic decisions. History in the Roman Catholic and Orthodox church is given a high place and is authoritative not only for ethical and hermeneutical decisions but also can be used for doctrine. But because their authority is tied into history they tend to paint a rosy and tainted view of history. The sins of Popes are smoothed over or not even talked about, the variety in tradition is downplayed; the Orthodox draw a firm line between east and west even before there was a division (and so reject ‘western’ influence even when there is nothing particularly unorthodox about it) and Catholics manipulate history to show that everyone else wrong and the reinforce the belief that even the Eastern Church ‘broke’ with the Catholics and so unification means being re-as simulated into the Roman church, which is still viewed as the one true Church. While the Orthodox claim every father as uniquely their own.

An emphasis on Orthopraxy is also narrow and–more than any other form of overemphasis–is the one that tends to be the least ‘Christian.’

Emphasis on Orthopraxy truly began to bloom via the Anabaptists after the Protestant Reformation. It is true that there were many saints before the Reformation who were outstanding examples of Christ-like behavior, but they never would have undervalued the role of Orthodoxy, mostly being good ‘catholics’. Seeing that violence was not limited to Protestant-Catholic fights, but also eventually even Protestant-Protestant fights, Anabaptists had a core of beliefs but practiced radical egalitarianism and held most things in common. This led to them being persecuted even by Protestants and eventually they were ejected from Europe and their home base became Pennsylvania. This overemphasis too has many things which at first seem to give the appearance of greatness but upon closer examination is shown to be lacking. It would seem to say, “See how we don’t fight over doctrine and how we live a ‘Christian’ life?” It also tends to paint God as a God who cares less about what his children believe (who can be expected to believe everything completely?) and more about them getting along and being compassionate. Indeed, if there was an error to make as far as overemphasis this is the one that I would tend to error towards. But upon closer examination this too is shown as shallow and unable to answer fully God’s call. For one, the Anabaptists and other such groups have separated themselves off from society. Their isolation leaves them unable to influence the direction of the rest of their Christian sisters and brothers and, as with an Orthodoxic overemphasis it is unable to move toward real global justice or what we might call the re-creation of the world. Within its own community it may be able to attain something like it, and this is also preferable to nothing at all, but because of it’s isolation, Orthopraxic Christians tend to be unable to address society and it’s faults. To put it another way it has no prophetic voice.

Being cut off from the Christian community at large these groups also have a single minded and unhistorical understanding of who Jesus is, who God is, and what is expected of us as believers. As with ‘Liberal Protestantism’ many of these groups view Jesus as a sort of Buddha, giving a list of how to live and achieve eternal life. And it should be said that even these groups have an ‘Orthodox’ core and far more so than the other Christian groups they are unable to deal with diversity of opinion. Members that are not willing to accept the core of the group are generally kicked out.

Another Orthopraxic group (sort of) within Christianity is “Liberal Protestantism.” I use this term not derogatorily, but to indicate the sub group in question. Because of their extreme skepticism concerning the ‘historicity’ of our salvific history they tend to reduce Christianity to living out Jesus teachings (teachings which according to them Jesus did not even say!). They use Church history to reinforce this belief manipulating it to say that when Orthodoxy is given precedence violence is soon to ensue. The reason that this is the least ‘Christian’ of the overemphasis is that, as already stated, Jesus is sucked out of his historical context, indeed who He really was, and is turned into a moral teacher with nothing of value to say apart from how to act. This tends to be an insult to our Jewish history as well as to our Christian history. It takes Christian and Jewish elements and creates a spare religion out of parts. This group tends to be well-to-do white western males and they are unable to interact with others whose opinions differ from them. They even tend to run the error of the fundamentalists replacing actual actions of justice with right beliefs about justice. It borders on idolatry because it takes the bits they like from our scriptures and histories and pretends like they perfected them. Because they are skeptical about ‘revelation’ they belittle the God from whom our testimony says these ‘moral’ rules came from.

As a first step towards unity I would propose a recognition that in order to maintain that which is truly Christian we must recognize that we have a common scripture, common tradition, and a complex canonizing process. That is to say we have access to the same books (even if not all of the books are the same as far as ‘cannon’), we all should have equal access to our history, not allowing any one group to claim any part of it only for themselves, and we should recognize that our doctrines and emphasis’ have changed over time and it is this traditioning process, utilizing these three facets, that is itself uniquely Christian.

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