The Shape of Discipleship-The Shape of History: Problems With “Loyalty to Christ”
September 26, 2010
The idea that “loyalty to Christ” will entail a hard life, a life of the Cross indeed, and that such a life may make demands of us that even at times it will require the breaking of fellowship with other Christians for the sake of such “loyalty,” has been a subject of meditation for me for a while. Scripture obviously at certain points indicate that “excommunication” sometimes is necessary, and this has been reinforced by many of the thinkers who have shaped my as-yet-young theological temperance. A friend has recently had an extended (and excellent) blog series on just this point. By some models though, “truth” – of the Gospel or of doctrine - is often set over against “unity,” which is sometimes even scorned as a concession to “man-made” structures and identities. This comes up constantly in Anglican circles from both sides, the one is accused of favoring “unity” over “justice” or “truth” and vise versa. Indeed “unity” almost always comes in short for these types of conversations. This is the plague of Protestant sectarianism – if you can’t see the truth as it “plainly” is set forth in Scripture, then I’m starting a new sect. ”Unity” here is always thrown into the eschatological future and has nothing whatsoever to do with the empirical Church.
Ephraim Radner calls this kind of thinking into stark question in all of his writings but concisely in his Hope Among the Fragments, specifically here his chapter “The Figure of Truth and Unity.” Radner recalls us to the perfect coincidence of Truth and Unity with respect to Jesus Christ, a truth brought out strongly in the Gospel of St. John, not least chapters 14-17. Radner challenges the dichotomy:
“If…unity and truth were viewed in parallel with pneumatic fruit (Gal. 5:16-26), their coordination would be of a profoundly different kind than if they were viewed as variously attained aspects of obedience. We do not tend to place kindness and self-control over and against each other…In walking by the Spirit, a Christian may fail to exhibit one spiritual fruit or another, such failures pertain to that life as a whole, to the character and shape of its discrete pneumatic history, and not to separable histories of particular virtues, as if one could say, “Until now, I have worked on love; only when this is achieved can I turn to joy.” (113-114)
Instead Radner points us to the traditional figural interpretation of the Song of Songs as an elucidation of the relationship of the Church to its Lord, a history that cannot be anything other than a complex and layered story.
“If this response [of the Church and its Lord] represents some kind of narrative progress, all that takes place in between – desire, opposition, sorrow, renewal – must therefore form the historical matrix within which the larger movement of union and conformity takes flesh” (119)
For Radner, this story envisions the Church as “a single character, whose variegated experience in relation to its Lord and lover never undermines the singularity of that link, but only undermines its temporal difficulty” (118)
Therefore:
“As a figure of the Church in the course of its Lord-conforming history, then, the Song of Songs is a bracing challenge to any attempt at its evaluative dissection on the basis of identifiable virtues. There is simply no room, in such a narrative, for assessing degrees of integrity and then acting distinctly upon them. For the existence of such degrees-the church of the more or less truthful, or more or less loving, or in more or less communion within its parts, upon which distinctions we must make decisions-cannot be detached from the single movements of its history in relation to its Lord.” (119)
This then is where I have and continue to struggle with the idea of understanding discipleship and sanctification, both individually within a parish and corporately between disparate bodies, as a singular “loyalty to Christ” which must be at all times maintained, for this is what (we are told) Scripture demands. Such a position assumes that the appropriate response to the Lords calling will be clear and readily apparent, yet in a divided Church, such clarity is hardly forthcoming. There is a sort of rigorist or puritan striving toward holiness, a position that historically has almost always lost.
Although I remain convinced that excommunication and parish discipline is absolutely necessary, this often can only be an exercise of authority open to contestation. Because of course I myself demonstrate both loyalty and disloyalty to Christ, more and less obedience. Rather than wrap up with a confident position of my own, I will end with a story from the desert monastics:
“There was a brother at Scetis who had committed a fault. So they called a meeting and invited Abba Moses. He refused to go. The priest sent someone to say to him, “They’re all waiting for you.” So Moses got up and set off; he took a leaky jug and filled it with water and took it with him. The others came out to meet him and said, “What is this, father?” The old man said to them, “My sins run out behind me and I cannot see them, yet here I am coming to sit in judgment on the mistakes of somebody else.” When they heard this, they called off the meeting.”
Containeth All Things Necessary to Salvation
February 23, 2010
Growing up, my house had probably more than a dozen Bibles in it. There were teen study bibles, children’s picture book bibles, women’s devotional bibles and any number of translations and packagings. The Bible, for me, was supposed to be neither a particularly ancient nor a particularly distant document, but a current, thrilling, best seller complete with pictures and info boxes to keep me up-to-date. The prolific rise of the “customized” Bible has conditioned the modern, western Christian to read Scripture individually as a personal book.
While many Christians, including myself, have found this process edifying, I think we forget that this is not how most Christians in history—nor most Christians alive today—experience Scripture. Bibles were foreign documents for most of history, often written in a language other than the common tongue. For most of Christian history, it was likely that less than half of those people in Church even knew how to read. With this distance came a degree of “otherness” completely lost on us today.
Of course, one of the great successes of the Reformation was making Scripture accessible to the people and this is not a change I would quickly undo. But I must admit it also changed the way Christians experienced the Bible, from a communal to an individual activity. No longer was the primary window into Scripture listening to the stories and letters surrounded by family and friends but sitting alone in a library, studying the minutiae of the written word. Rising literacy and the printing press only made this kind of armchair biblical scholarship more prevalent. While I refuse to condemn this wonderful innovation in Christian History, I cannot deny it’s unintended effect of localizing and individualizing the Scriptural experience.
EDIT 2/24/10: Commenter George P. Wood alerted me to a worthwhile quote I want to include here:
Most North American Christians assume they have a right, if not an obligation, to read the Bible. I challenge that assumption. No task is more important than for the church to take the Bible out of the hands of individual Christians in North America. Let us no longer give the Bible to every child when they enter the third grade or whenever their assumed rise to Christian maturity is marked… Let us rather tell them and their parents that they are possessed by habits far too corrupt for them to be encouraged to read the Bible on their own.
-Stanley Hauerwas, Unleashing the Scripture
Born Alone. Die Alone.
November 29, 2009
He brought him outside and said, ‘Look towards heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.’ Then he said to him, ‘So shall your descendants be.’ And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.
Night Sky at Petra, Jordan
Adapting a prominent cliché, Orson Wells famously said, “We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.” While impressively stoic, the faith community behind Genesis 15 would likely find Wells’ statement absurd.
In Abraham’s world—a less individualistic, less literal place—such a sentiment would be unthinkable. It could be argued that the very goal of life was to insure one did not die alone, and that those for whom one was responsible were not born alone. These relationships could never be illusions, for they were the very means by which one survived in a harsh world especially cruel to loners. Communities did not exist to create a bubble of happiness. They existed to make existence possible. Thus, the irony of ancestor and descendant was one of origin and legacy: A son found his identity in his father. The father lived forever through his son.
This ancient vision of community should give readers in our radically individualistic culture pause when considering the nature of God’s promises in the Abraham cycle. The guarantee of an heir was an offer of eternal significance and the prospect of land was an offer of elected provision. The significance of showing Abraham stars is not merely to showcase their number, but their permanence. The intimacy of 15:6 should not be missed. What is happening between God and Abraham is not something that can be described in a series of steps or in dialogue as in the first five verses, but only observed from a theological distance. It would seem Abraham’s faith and subsequent righteousness is neither the result of an obedient act nor a pious prayer but a feat accomplished while stargazing.
From his son, Abraham would discover his place within community. From the stars he would discover his place in creation. New Testament communities would later locate his place within salvation history. Christians today are called to discern no less. By faith we explore these three relationships—God, community and creation. They are not illusions, nor the byproduct of our selfish ambitions. They are the reality that we’re never alone.
Holiness for the Obama Generation
November 27, 2009
Leviticus and Law in Post-Culture War America
Part of an ongoing series on Leviticus and Law in Post-Culture War America.
As the pool of candidates narrowed in the 2008 Presidential Election primaries, pundits noticed a peculiar strength in eventual victor, Barack Obama. The 47-year-old African American was perceived by many as a peacemaker who would bring an end to the so-called “Culture Wars” which had dominated American politics since the Vietnam War. Laying aside whether or not one believes this really was Obama’s intention—and to what extent he has been successful—it is remarkable that our country has reached a juncture where such a perceived intent could be a political strength.
The factors contributing to this change of public heart are diverse and disputed, but at least one underlying cause is shifting views on the nature of personal morality and societal ethics—especially amongst those voting for the first time in the 21st century. Reflecting from within the Judeo-Christian tradition, I believe we can find a fresh relevance for our ancient texts in this environment of cultural redefinition. In particular, the portrait of Holiness as defined by ritual purity, individual behavior and social justice as found in the Law passages of Exodus and Leviticus offer a unique moral vision to the upcoming post-culture war generation.
The command from God to Moses in Leviticus 19:2 “You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy,” presupposes two audacious ideas:
1) that the personal decisions of an individual has lingering effects on the Holiness of the community, and
2) no amount of personal Holiness can cleanse the stain of an individual who participates in an unjust system.
These two ideas—often held as conflicting by both sides in the culture wars—demand we revisit our definition of “Holiness.” What contemporary implications exist for a text which discusses premeditated murder in the same language as the unrestrained slaughter of created animals (Lev. 17:6) or a holiness code which equates the consequences of sexual immorality (Lev. 18) with those of defrauding the poor (Lev. 19)? Is the idea of a Jubilee year—and the specific notions of Sabbath and debt forgiveness—pertinent to a society of runaway resource exploitation and restless consumption?
Obviously, one cannot lift a context-less English translation from a printed page and call it a “relevant ethic” any easier than one can create a papier-mâché rod from its pages and demand he be called “Moses.” Yet, we do the text, our traditions and ourselves a great disservice when we delegate the messages of these Pentateuchal passages merely to the realms of ancient cult or antiquated superstition. As our societies revisit the entrenched battles and political labels of previous generations, the ancient law of the Pentateuch can provide us with refreshing perspective on ageless questions.
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Using and Abusing the Old Testament
September 11, 2009
Warning: This is not a well thought out research project. It is a matter of personal rumination, that I want to discuss with the group for the sake of gaining insight. Consequently, expect to find personal bias, agitation, incredulity, and hilariousness herein.
It has always perplexed me to see how scitzophrenically Christians utilize the Old Testament. As one who spends a fair amount of time training people to interpret Scripture, watching the sloppy implementation of sound hermeneutics being lobbed “Hail Mary style” at the Old Testament is much like watching the bocce event at the Special Olympics (now, if you are a bocce player, a special olympian [James?], or just sensitive – get over it. I think the analogy works on many levels).
I know what many may already be thinking, “Okay, fine, you’re so smart – why don’t you just tell us (Oh, Great and Wonderful Hermeneutical Rhetorician – [henceforth GWHR]) how we ought to be interpreting the Old Testament?” However, the sophisticated and intelligent reader will immediately know this would be the worst thing I, the GWHR, could attempt for several reasons not limited to, but including… /1/ Nothing I am capable of producing would encompass the greater history or tradition of Christian Scriptural exegesis (does such a hermeneutic even exist?), /2/ The internet trolls would seize my post and proceed to argue over whether to make soup or pancakes out of it.
The trouble with trolls: they love picking at minutiae, but rarely have anything productive to contribute to an ongoing dialogue.
/3/ I am not annoyed about any particular hermeneutic, I am annoyed at our seeming inability to systematically apply ANY hermeneutic to the Old Testament.
Really, the crux of my complaint contends with the catastrophic conceit that no one really knows what to do with the Old Testament, so they just do whatever the hell they please with it. When did the Old Testament become the cecal (read, “appendix”) of Christ’s Body? We have some exegetes claiming that the Old Testament (especially the Torah) is totally in effect, some claiming that it is only partially in effect, some claiming that it is null and void, and some claiming that only elements which adhere to God’s person matter. With all of these hermeneutics, you would think that some could find one and stick with it. Nonetheless, such machinations of the interpetively literate seem to escape even the cleverest of them.
I watch in utter horror as some (many times the same person, if not the same group) will use the Old Testament to prove that homosexuality is an abomination, that tatoos are a sin, that polygamy was not part of God’s plan for marriage, that we should not pay a 10% tithe, that the United States’ war on Iraq was justified, etc. etc. The problem, of course, is that this is the same person/group utilizing three different hermeneutics in order to manipulate the outcome that they want. All those who agree please join me in a collectively exasperated, “WTF?” With all of this inflamation from ego, culturally derived ethics, and personal self-soothing, Christ’s body will surely suffer appendicitis. Will we then have to just cut the Old Testament off in some kind of Marcion inspired bris before we suffer a rupture?
(I hope the more perspicacious among you will enjoy the added level of irony accorded to that last bit of rhetoric - allow the GWHR to include this explanation for the trolls: its funny because I talk about chopping up phalluses [weiners], and such a practice finds justification in the Old Testament, which is what we are going to chop).
This is a link to a discussion going on over at AGThinkTank that I believe demonstrates my point well. Go, my lovelies, read it and ponder the fate that we will ultimately suffer, and then discuss among yourselves. How do we solve such a conundrum? Is a solution even desirable?
More Scattered Thoughts on Inerrancy
August 6, 2009
- The fact is that there are many versions of inerrancy. What it means for one will not necessarily hold for all. For some it includes all historical realities all (apparent) contradictions, for some it means only in matters of faith. This reality alone should alert us that even IF inerrancy were a true proposition concerning the nature of Scripture, it remains that the content of such a proposition is either pluriform or meaningless. I vote the latter.
- If Infallibility means that “Scripture will not fail to fulfill its purpose” and if it’s purpose is to elucidate the nature and plans of God, then it most certainly fails all the time. There are countless skeptics and non-believers who can and do read the Scriptures and who are not illuminated as to the nature and plans of God. Moreover, even believers will sometimes read it wrongly (according to the pattern of the Church) and believe all sorts of silly stuff.
But, some might say, that is the problem of the subjectivity of the interpreter. That seems to me to miss the point. We have no reason to believe that God wanted to pour himself into a text for the sake of having an infallible text, that is, if the problem is in the subjectivity of the reader and not the objectivity of the text, then we are in effect saying God’s intention for the creating Scripture is an end in itself. The point of Revelation (and Creation for that matter!) is relationship. God desires not so much to convey intellectual truths about himself as he does to extend his love and fellowship. Is it necessary, or anywhere described, that in order to bring mankind into fellowship it is necessary for Scripture to be infallible?
- It does not follow logically that Scripture must posses the same features as God. For example in the propositional argument:
God does not error – the Bible is God’s word – therefore it has no errors.
Only God posseses God’s characteristics in their wholeness.
- Which brings us back to “The Word of God” – Within Scripture it is used in many ways, only some of which relate to the words of Scripture themselves.
- They are most often in the OT used to refer to prophetic words. It should be noted, as I did before, that it these prophetic proclamations that are properly so called the “Word of the Lord.” The elaboration, redaction and collection cannot call itself the Word of the Lord in the same fashion. Not that I’m trying with a scalpel to set up artificial “hierarchies” of “Word,” I’m trying to flesh the distinctive facets of Scripture.
- In the NT, as far as I can tell, it is used exclusively of the Gospel proclamation of the life, death and resurrection of Christ.
- Which brings us to Jesus. If we want to say that there is a self-communication of God that shares the traits of God intrinsically we need to look to the 2nd person of the Holy Trinity. When asking about the Father, Jesus told his disciples, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” He didn’t say that there was an infallible grouping of holy writings they should check out. Indeed, the risen Lord elucidated the Scriptures in reference to himself and founds a community of forgiven around himself.
- On Tradition – It is always risky to speak monolithically of the Fathers, but I took some time and found that the Fathers I read were concerned with the unity of the Scriptures over and against Marcionites, Gnostics and others who were attempting to set Jesus and his Father against the God of the OT, or turn Jesus into a demi-urge, etc…
In point of fact, what we think of as conservative evangelical inerrancy is indeed a very late and highly dogmatic and, dare I say, un-Christocentric turn. It is largely a reaction to critical scholarship and is problematically modernist and foundationalist.
A look at perhaps the most famous Statement on Inerrancy, the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy demonstrates clearly what I have been saying now for some years. I quote:
The authority of Scripture is inescapably impaired if this total divine inerrancy is in any way limited or disregarded, or made relative to a view of truth contrary to the Bible’s own; and such lapses bring serious loss to both the individual and the Church.
Inerrancy functions as a dogma in order to guarantee the authority of Scripture in the community, but it in no way says anything instrinsically essential about its nature.
- If the doctrine functions to ensure authority and not truth, then it would be fair to ask if any post-modern might rightfully see this as a hidden discourse of power.
- If inerrancy only pertains to the original documents and we posses none of these, then is it not possible that the texts we have do contain errors? Indeed what text do we have when we have a text in our possession? Even the exact text among printed Greek and Hebrew bibles differs even if only in minor and inconsequential ways. So then might not even a strict inerrantist affirm errors in the Bible as we have it?
Please. Have mercy on me readers. Perhaps I should mention once again my affirmation of the inspiration of Holy Scriptures, of their trustworthiness read in the believing community and of the ability of God to reveal himself in Holy Scriptures. And I like long walks on the beach.
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.
Tony Hunt
jstambaugh
Shawn Wamsley
