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    Christopher Benson

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    Christopher Benson (B.A. Wheaton College, M.A. Missouri School of Journalism, M.A. St. John's College) is a teacher and writer in Denver, Colorado. His work has been published in The Weekly Standard, Books & Culture, The City, Image, Christian Scholar's Review, Modern Reformation, and The Christian Century.

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    Saturday, August 14, 2010, 7:00 AM

    Why is the future of reasoned Christian disagreement endangered? Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, has a penetrating answer in “Knowing Myself in Christ,” an essay that belongs to The Way Forward?: Christian Voices on Homosexuality (Eerdmans, 2003), edited by Timothy Bradshaw. Although he specifically addresses the contentious issue of human sexuality, substitute any other contentious issue in the church and his insight still applies.

    Ours is a time in which it is depressingly easy to make this or that issue a test of Christian orthodoxy in such a way as to make wholly suspect the theology of anyone disagreeing on the issue in question; in other words, the possibility is neglected that Christians beginning from the same premises and convictions may yet come to different conclusions about particular matters without thereby completely voiding the commonness of their starting-point. It is really a matter of having a language in which to disagree rather than speaking two incompatible or mutually exclusive tongues. Of late, attitudes toward sexuality have come to be seen as a clear marker of orthodoxy or unorthodoxy in many circles; and it is true that there are plenty of people for whom the casting of ‘traditional’ or even scriptural norms to do with certain kinds of sexual behavior is part of a general program of emancipation from the constraints of what they conceive to be orthodoxy, part of a package that might include a wide-ranging relativism, pluralism in respect of other faiths, agnosticism about various aspects of doctrine or biblical narrative, and so on. However, it seems to me that the St Andrew’s Day Statement, beginning as it does with proposed principles for theological discussion, recognizes that the assumption that revisionism on one questions entails wholesale doctrinal or ethical relativism is dangerous for the future of reasoned Christian disagreement of a properly theological character.


    Friday, August 13, 2010, 2:09 PM

    Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann has assisted my understanding of genre and authorial intent in the so-called “first creation story” (Genesis 1:1-2:4a). I will distill his treatment from An Introduction to the Old Testament: The Canon and Christian Imagination. Work slowly through each point until it builds to the crescendo at the end.

    (more…)


    Friday, August 13, 2010, 11:33 AM

    Timothy Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City and author of The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism, has written a paper for BioLogos called, “Creation, Evolution, and Christian People.” Pastor Keller estimates that “what current science tells us about evolution presents four main difficulties for orthodox Protestants.” Those areas concern (1) biblical authority, (2) the confusion of biology and philosophy, (3) the historicity of Adam and Eve, and (4) the problem of violence and evil. For the purpose of this post, I am going to excerpt his comments pertaining to the first area of difficulty. Keep in mind that Keller is not presenting “rigorous, scholarly arguments in answer to these questions”  but rather “popular-level pastoral answers and guidance.” Click here to read the entire paper.

    To account for evolution we must see at least Genesis 1 as non-literal. The questions come along these lines: what does that mean for the idea that the Bible has final authority? If we refuse to take one part of the Bible literally, why take any parts of it literally? Aren’t we really allowing science to sit in judgment on our understanding of the Bible rather than vica versa?

    (more…)


    Thursday, August 12, 2010, 6:30 AM

    There is a peculiar American tendency to bifurcate public debates into two sides, one “pro-” and the other “anti-” (e.g., abortion, climate change, homosexuality). The science and religion debate is no exception. BioLogos has a helpful feature on their website that shows multiple constituencies with leading figures.

    Which constituency best describes your view, and why?

    The BioLogos position on origins sits partway between two fundamentalisms: on the “left” end of the spectrum is the fundamentalism of people like Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett who are committed to the belief that the only reliable form of knowledge comes from science, and that alternate ways of knowing must be either rejected entirely or completely subordinated to science. On the “right” end of the spectrum is the fundamentalism of those who insist that reliable knowledge can only be found in an ultraliteral interpretation of the Bible, and that alternate ways of knowing must be completely subordinated to this way of reading the Bible.

    BioLogos takes both the Bible and science seriously and believes that since God authored both, they must complement each other and be in harmony. We reject the two fundamentalisms mentioned above. Science is not the only way of knowing, but an ultraliteral interpretation of the Bible must also be rejected. To understand how BioLogos relates to other positions “in play” in our cultural conversation on origins, we have created the following categorical scheme into which most participants can be readily placed.

    We have produced labels for the groups that help to show how they span the range of possible viewpoints. Our labels indicate what we think are the critical and defining characteristics of the group, rather than the name that the group has chosen for itself.

    (more…)


    Thursday, August 12, 2010, 6:00 AM

    Did you watch Ted Olson’s interview on FOX News Sunday with Chris Wallace? Consider the irony: Olson is a conservative legal giant who argued the winning side of the recent Prop 8 decision in California. Watch the video below and weigh his argument.

    BIG QUESTION #1: Does the U. S. Constitution grant a “fundamental right” to marriage: yes or no? If yes, show evidence.

    BIG QUESTION #2: In his most radical statement, California Judge Vaughn Walker said that “gender no longer forms an essential part of marriage; marriage under law is a union of equals.” Is there a legal–not sociological, political, ethical, biblical, or theological–defense for the gender complementarity of marriage? If so, provide details.

    Further Reading:


    Wednesday, August 11, 2010, 1:11 PM

    Based on the comments I received from my blog posts on the science and religion debate, I want to point Evangel readers in the direction of some resources that would inform the conversation because––with the exception of a few interlocutors––pervasive ignorance and fear seem to prevail instead of knowledge and faith.

    From Natural History magazine. “Intelligent Design?” Three proponents of Intelligent Design (ID) present their views of design in the natural world. Each view is immediately followed by a response from a proponent of evolution (EO).

    From Timothy Keller (Pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, author of many books including The Reason for God: Belief in God in an Age of Skepticism)

    From BioLogos

    Books


    Tuesday, August 10, 2010, 6:00 AM

    Since U. S. District Judge Vaughn Walker overturned California’s 2008 constitutional ban on same-sex marriages, my ears are hearing the prophetic words of U. S. Supreme Court Judge Antonin Scalia’s dissenting opinion in Lawrence v. Texas (2003). Read my edited version carefully:

    Countless judicial decisions and legislative enactments have relied on the ancient proposition that a governing majority’s belief that certain sexual behavior is “immoral and unacceptable” constitutes a rational basis for regulation. . . . State laws against bigamy, same-sex marriage, adult incest, prostitution, masturbation, adultery, fornication, bestiality, and obscenity are likewise sustainable only in light of Bowers’ validation of laws based on moral choices. Every single one of these laws is called into question by today’s decision; the Court makes no effort to cabin the scope of its decision to exclude them from its holding. . . The impossibility of distinguishing homosexuality from other traditional “morals” offenses is precisely why Bowers rejected the rational-basis challenge. “The law,” it said, “is constantly based on notions of morality, and if all laws representing essentially moral choices are to be invalidated under the Due Process Clause, the courts will be very busy indeed.”

    What a massive disruption of the current social order, therefore, the overruling of Bowers entails. Not so the overruling of Roe, which would simply have restored the regime that existed for centuries before 1973, in which the permissibility of and restrictions upon abortion were determined legislatively State-by-State. Casey, however, chose to base its stare decisis determination on a different “sort” of reliance. “[P]eople,” it said, “have organized intimate relationships and made choices that define their views of themselves and their places in society, in reliance on the availability of abortion in the event that contraception should fail.” . . . This falsely assumes that the consequence of overruling Roe would have been to make abortion unlawful. It would not; it would merely have permitted the States to do so. Many States would unquestionably have declined to prohibit abortion, and others would not have prohibited it within six months (after which the most significant reliance interests would have expired). Even for persons in States other than these, the choice would not have been between abortion and childbirth, but between abortion nearby and abortion in a neighboring State.

    The Court . . . says: “[W]e think that our laws and traditions in the past half century are of most relevance here. These references show an emerging awareness that liberty gives substantial protection to adult persons in deciding how to conduct their private lives in matters pertaining to sex.” Apart from the fact that such an “emerging awareness” does not establish a “fundamental right,” the statement is factually false. States continue to prosecute all sorts of crimes by adults “in matters pertaining to sex”: prostitution, adult incest, adultery, obscenity, and child pornography. Sodomy laws, too, have been enforced “in the past half century,” in which there have been 134 reported cases involving prosecutions for consensual, adult, homosexual sodomy.

    An “emerging awareness” is by definition not “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition[s],” as we have said “fundamental right” status requires. Constitutional entitlements do not spring into existence because some States choose to lessen or eliminate criminal sanctions on certain behavior. Much less do they spring into existence, as the Court seems to believe, because foreign nations decriminalize conduct. The Bowers majority opinion never relied on “values we share with a wider civilization,” but rather rejected the claimed right to sodomy on the ground that such a right was not “ ‘deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition.’ ” Bowers’ rational-basis holding is likewise devoid of any reliance on the views of a “wider civilization” . . . .

    The Texas statute undeniably seeks to further the belief of its citizens that certain forms of sexual behavior are “immoral and unacceptable” – the same interest furthered by criminal laws against fornication, bigamy, adultery, adult incest, bestiality, and obscenity. Bowers held that this was a legitimate state interest. The Court today reaches the opposite conclusion. The Texas statute, it says, “furthers no legitimate state interest which can justify its intrusion into the personal and private life of the individual.” The Court embraces instead Justice Stevens’ declaration in his Bowers dissent, that “the fact that the governing majority in a State has traditionally viewed a particular practice as immoral is not a sufficient reason for upholding a law prohibiting the practice.” This effectively decrees the end of all morals legislation. If, as the Court asserts, the promotion of majoritarian sexual morality is not even a legitimate state interest, none of the above-mentioned laws can survive rational-basis review.

    Today’s opinion is the product of a Court, which is the product of a law-profession culture, that has largely signed on to the so-called homosexual agenda, by which I mean the agenda promoted by some homosexual activists directed at eliminating the moral opprobrium that has traditionally attached to homosexual conduct.

    One of the most revealing statements in today’s opinion is the Court’s grim warning that the criminalization of homosexual conduct is “an invitation to subject homosexual persons to discrimination both in the public and in the private spheres.” It is clear from this that the Court has taken sides in the culture war, departing from its role of assuring, as neutral observer, that the democratic rules of engagement are observed. Many Americans do not want persons who openly engage in homosexual conduct as partners in their business, as scoutmasters for their children, as teachers in their children’s schools, or as boarders in their home. They view this as protecting themselves and their families from a lifestyle that they believe to be immoral and destructive. The Court views it as “discrimination” which it is the function of our judgments to deter. So imbued is the Court with the law profession’s anti-anti-homosexual culture, that it is seemingly unaware that the attitudes of that culture are not obviously “mainstream”; that in most States what the Court calls “discrimination” against those who engage in homosexual acts is perfectly legal; that proposals to ban such “discrimination” under Title VII have repeatedly been rejected by Congress, see Employment Non-Discrimination Act of 1994, S. 2238, 103d Cong., 2d Sess. (1994); Civil Rights Amendments, H. R. 5452, 94th Cong., 1st Sess. (1975); that in some cases such “discrimination” is mandated by federal statute, see 10 U.S.C. § 654(b)(1) (mandating discharge from the armed forces of any service member who engages in or intends to engage in homosexual acts); and that in some cases such “discrimination” is a constitutional right, see Boy Scouts of America v. Dale, 530 U.S. 640 (2000).

    Let me be clear that I have nothing against homosexuals, or any other group, promoting their agenda through normal democratic means. Social perceptions of sexual and other morality change over time, and every group has the right to persuade its fellow citizens that its view of such matters is the best. That homosexuals have achieved some success in that enterprise is attested to by the fact that Texas is one of the few remaining States that criminalize private, consensual homosexual acts. But persuading one’s fellow citizens is one thing, and imposing one’s views in absence of democratic majority will is something else. I would no more require a State to criminalize homosexual acts–or, for that matter, display any moral disapprobation of them–than I would forbid it to do so. What Texas has chosen to do is well within the range of traditional democratic action, and its hand should not be stayed through the invention of a brand-new “constitutional right” by a Court that is impatient of democratic change. It is indeed true that “later generations can see that laws once thought necessary and proper in fact serve only to oppress”; and when that happens, later generations can repeal those laws. But it is the premise of our system that those judgments are to be made by the people, and not imposed by a governing caste that knows best.

    One of the benefits of leaving regulation of this matter to the people rather than to the courts is that the people, unlike judges, need not carry things to their logical conclusion. The people may feel that their disapprobation of homosexual conduct is strong enough to disallow homosexual marriage, but not strong enough to criminalize private homosexual acts–and may legislate accordingly. The Court today pretends that it possesses a similar freedom of action, so that that we need not fear judicial imposition of homosexual marriage, as has recently occurred in Canada (in a decision that the Canadian Government has chosen not to appeal). . . At the end of its opinion–after having laid waste the foundations of our rational-basis jurisprudence–the Court says that the present case “does not involve whether the government must give formal recognition to any relationship that homosexual persons seek to enter.” Do not believe it. More illuminating than this bald, unreasoned disclaimer is the progression of thought displayed by an earlier passage in the Court’s opinion, which notes the constitutional protections afforded to “personal decisions relating to marriage, procreation, contraception, family relationships, child rearing, and education,” and then declares that “[p]ersons in a homosexual relationship may seek autonomy for these purposes, just as heterosexual persons do.” Today’s opinion dismantles the structure of constitutional law that has permitted a distinction to be made between heterosexual and homosexual unions, insofar as formal recognition in marriage is concerned. If moral disapprobation of homosexual conduct is “no legitimate state interest” for purposes of proscribing that conduct; and if, as the Court coos (casting aside all pretense of neutrality), “[w]hen sexuality finds overt expression in intimate conduct with another person, the conduct can be but one element in a personal bond that is more enduring”; what justification could there possibly be for denying the benefits of marriage to homosexual couples exercising “[t]he liberty protected by the Constitution”? Surely not the encouragement of procreation, since the sterile and the elderly are allowed to marry. This case “does not involve” the issue of homosexual marriage only if one entertains the belief that principle and logic have nothing to do with the decisions of this Court. Many will hope that, as the Court comfortingly assures us, this is so.

    THE BIG QUESTION: Is moral disapprobation of homosexual conduct “a legitimate state interest”?

    Further Reading: Mark Galli, “Is the Gay Marriage Debate Over?” (Christianity Today, July 2009)


    Monday, August 9, 2010, 6:00 AM

    There are times when it’s necessary to look through a telescope for the big picture and other times when it’s necessary to look through a microscope for the small picture. Generally, I’m looking through the telescope. That explains why I’m currently reading The Religion and Science Debate: Why Does It Continue?, a collection of essays on the occasion of the centennial celebration of Yale University’s famous Terry Lectures. Featured in the book are two scientists (Kenneth Miller, Lawrence Krauss), a philosopher (Alvin Plantinga), a historian (Ronald Numbers), and a sociologist (Robert Wuthnow). The purpose of the volume, according Harold Attridge, is to explore “the ongoing controversy in the United States about the relationship between science and religion, particularly evolutionary biology and traditional readings of the biblical creation story.”

    In his introduction to the book, Keith Thomson provides a concise and cogent answer to why the debate continues:

    What matters in the public debate is not what philosophers and historians write but the simplified, and sometimes simply wrong, version that the general populace “knows.” There is a continuing debate, not because of esoteric philosophical discussion in the groves of academe where, as here, mutual respect is required and conciliation is to be sought, but because of the hopes and fears expressed in pulpits and school board meetings across the country. The debate continues not just because science and religion are both immensely powerful, in the sense of having a history of changing the lives of billions. It is because they are perceived to be based on entirely different principles that are relentlessly leading us in different (potentially opposing) cultural directions. It has to do with the ways, and the extent, to which humans have the power to control and shape their own world. And with who gets to exercise those powers. Because power is involved––institutional power and individual empowerment––inevitably so is fear. And fears can be exploited by the unscrupulous.

    To demonstrate Thomson’s observation that science and religion are “perceived to be based on entirely different principles that are relentlessly leading us in different (potentially opposing) cultural directions,” consider the following two quotations. From the side of atheist fundamentalism, there is Richard Dawkins:

    Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence . . . . Faith, being belief that isn’t based on evidence, is the principal vice of any religion.

    From the side of Christian fundamentalism, there is Henry Morris (a leader of the creationist movement):

    Evolution’s lie permeates and dominates modern thought in every field. That being the case, it follows inevitably that evolutionary thought is basically responsible for the lethally ominous political developments, and the chaotic moral and social disintegrations that have been accelerating everywhere . . . . When science and the Bible differ, science has obviously misinterpreted its data.



    Sunday, August 8, 2010, 1:25 AM

    Based on the quotations below, Augustine would say creationists and ID proponents are “reckless and incompetent expounders of Scripture” because they turn the Bible into primitive science.

    From Peter Enns, Senior Fellow in Biblical Studies at the BioLogos Foundation:

    You cannot expect the Bible — written in ancient times for ancient eyes — to enter a modern scientific discussion, and you cannot fault the Bible when it fails to answer our questions.

    This is not a new insight. Augustine said famously 1600 years ago that Christians embarrass themselves when they appeal to the Bible to settle scientific matters (cosmology was the issue he was dealing with). Even if many Christians throughout history did assume that the Bible is scientifically accurate, the problems with that position have been understood for a very long time, long before the modern era.

    The problems with thinking of the Bible as a science book have been made clearer in recent generations. Beginning in the middle of the nineteenth century, archaeologists unearthed other creations stories from the ancient Mesopotamian world, the same environment that produced the Bible. These discoveries have helped us understand a lot about how creation stories worked in the ancient world.

    Ancient peoples did not investigate how things came to be; they assumed that there was a “beginning” when the gods formed the earth, people, animals, trees, etc., as you see them now. You can hardly blame them for making this assumption. The “how” question of creation was settled. They were interested in the “who” question: which of the gods is responsible for all of this? Each society had its own answer to this question, which they told in story form. The biblical story cannot claim a scientific higher ground. It, too, works with ancient themes and categories to tell Israel’s distinct story (qtd. from “Does God Talk to Us Through Fiction? Unpacking a Non-Literal Interpretation of the Bible”).

    From St. Augustine:

    Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and the other elements of the world, about the motion and orbit of the stars and even their size and relative positions, about the predictable eclipses of the sun and moon, the cycles of the years and the seasons, about the kinds of animals, shrubs, stones, and so forth, and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn. The shame is not so much that an ignorant individual is derided, but that people outside the household of faith think our sacred writers held such opinions, and, to the great loss of those for whose salvation we toil, the writers of our Scripture are criticized and rejected as unlearned men. If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason? Reckless and incompetent expounders of Holy Scripture bring untold trouble and sorrow on their wiser brethren when they are caught in one of their mischievous false opinions and are taken to task by those who are not bound by the authority of our sacred books. For then, to defend their utterly foolish and obviously untrue statements, they will try to call upon Holy Scripture for proof and even recite from memory many passages which they think support their position, although they understand neither what they say nor the things about which they make assertion [quoting 1 Tim 1:7] (qtd. from The Literal Meaning of Genesis).


    Friday, August 6, 2010, 8:00 AM

    The Patheos symposium on the future of evangelicalism introduced another set of essays on August 4th under the rubric of “Transforming Culture.” Karl Giberson, a physicist, scholar on science and religion, and Vice President of the BioLogos Forum, has written a short essay that expresses his worry about the future of America’s conversation on science and religion.

    Creationists are more entrenched than ever, building a $27 million Creation Museum and media outreach, circulating a magazine to almost 70,000 readers, and insisting on a young earth because, according to Al Mohler (president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary), the “theological price” of alternative views is too costly. A Pew Forum poll conducted in 2007 showed that only 25% of evangelicals believe in evolution and 10% in evolution through natural selection––a statistic that puts them at odds with the scientific consensus, reinforcing the cultural perception of Christian anti-intellectualism. The New Atheists have emerged, defining the terms of engagement in the debate on science and religion. And the Intelligent Design crowd has lost its stamina, becoming a scientific embarrassment.

    I am sympathetic to Giberson’s proposal for via media:

    What seems to be appearing on the horizon is a well-articulated culture war of religious belief. Both the atheists and the creationists/ID supporters are in full agreement that there can be no peace between the religious and scientific views of the world. Neither is interested in any synthetic middle ground where one might simultaneously embrace a science shorn of its over-reaching scientism and a faith freed from a simplistic biblical literalism. As the voices grow louder and more insistent, the perch between them will grow ever more precarious, making it all but impossible to avoid sliding by default down a slippery slope toward one or the other.

    Here is the question that I want to briefly explore: What are the issues that need to be addressed in order for Christians to achieve a “synthetic middle ground” in the debate? There are at least two.

    The first issue relates to the vocations of science and religion. Alister McGrath and Francis Collins rightly promote what they call “partially overlapping magisteria” (POMA), “reflecting a realization that science and religion offer possibilities of cross-fertilization on account of the interpenetration of their subjects and methods” (qtd. from The Dawkins Delusion?). Where the biblical claim about the universe is primarily concerned with human redemption, the scientific claim is exclusively concerned about the processes of nature. This should be straightforward enough, but I am amazed at how often ultra-Darwinists overreach with metaphysical statements while biblical literalists wrench the Bible out of context, turning it into “primitive science.”

    The second issue relates to the doctrine of creation. Where there is an absolute distinction between Creator and creation, there is a relative distinction between human and non-human creatures. Let me begin with the first distinction. If God is an actor in the cosmic drama, errors are bound to occur. Look no further than Isaac Newton’s God-of-the-gaps. But God is the playwright, as Anglican theologian Diogenes Allen writes in his chapter on “The Limits of Science” in Theology for a Troubled Believer:

    God is not a member of the universe, and any attempt to have God involved within the processes that science studies is theologically utterly unacceptable. And almost as important, we need to realize that biblical religion does not affirm God’s reality because its writers were trying to explain the working of the natural world. Biblical faith is a response to God’s initiative, rather than the result of an investigation of nature. Thus not only is God not part of the world, but the grounds for belief in God are also quite different from that found in science. Pascal, Kierkegaard, and Karl Barth never tired of stressing both these points.

    The next distinction is explained by Reformed theologian Colin Gunton, who has made a significant contribution to the doctrine of creation. His chapter “Establishing: The Doctrine of Creation” in The Christian Faith delineates three ways that God creates through mediation: creation by personal word, creation by craftsmanship, and creation by ministry. What matters for this discussion is the third way, where “worldly agencies are enabled by divine action to achieve their own ‘subcreating,’ not in the absolute way that God creates, but relatively, as creation from what already is” (cf. Gen. 1:11, 20, 24). Focusing too much on “men and women as the chief ministers of creation,” Gunton says, can “‘blind us to the fact that the difference between human and non-human creatures is relative, not absolute.” He continues:

    God grants to the lesser creatures their own capacity to generate beauty and truth. The garden needs to be tended, but the gardener does not make the plants grow, merely provides some of the conditions for their growth. If this side of things had not been as neglected as it has in the history of theology, the theory of evolution might not have proved the stumbling block to belief that it has in recent times.

    In conclusion, Christians can achieve a “synthetic middle ground” in the debate if they get a better handle on the vocations of science and religion and a more robust doctrine of creation.


    Thursday, August 5, 2010, 8:00 AM

    Joe Carter has informed Evangel readers about the Patheos symposium on the future of evangelicalism. Since I was not invited to contribute––no hurt feelings––I will offer the perspective of a “post-evangelical” who now straddles the Reformed and Anglican traditions.

    To begin, we can only talk about the future of evangelicalism if we have a sense of whose evangelicalism. Scot McKnight offers a very helpful taxonomy in his essay, “The Old Coalition Is Passing.”

    If we define “evangelical” as those who faithfully sustain the Reformation’s central impulses, like justification by faith and the solas, I would contend that evangelicalism will be here for a long time. There are plenty who will keep the Reformation’s gospel and theology alive. If we define “evangelical” as those who are faithful to the Great Awakening(s) and revivals of America, who carry on the work of people like Jonathan Edwards, John Wesley, and D.L. Moody, along with the missionary movement that flowed from that kind of evangelicalism, I would say that movement is sputtering along but is not likely to go away anytime soon. Yet I would caution that the great drive for the act of evangelism has substantially waned on American soil; the promptings that created missionary work all over the world have fallen on dry days. Finally, if we define “evangelical” as the coalition that gathered in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s around such luminaries as Billy Graham, Carl Henry, John Stott and J.I. Packer – of that evangelicalism, I would say the days are numbered.

    I would be cheerful about the future of evangelicalism if it referred to “those who faithfully sustain the Reformation’s central impulses, like justification by faith and the solas,” but this constituency is and should be an outlier to evangelicalism for the reasons that Reformed theologian Michael Horton argues in his Modern Reformation essay, “To Be or Not to Be: The Uneasy Relationship Between Reformed Christianity and American Evangelicalism” (Nov/Dec 2008):

    • Today, it is taken for granted by many that those most concerned about doctrine are least interested in reaching the lost (or, as they are now called, the “unchurched”). We are frequently challenged to choose between being traditional or missional, usually with little definition offered for either. Where the earlier evangelical consensus coalesced simultaneously around getting the gospel right and getting it out, increasingly today the coalition is defined by its style (“contemporary” versus “traditional”), its politics (“compassionate conservatism” or the more recent rediscovery of revivalism’s progressivist roots), and its “rock-star” leaders, than for its convictions about God, humanity, sin, salvation, the purpose of history, and the last judgment.
    • The Second Great Awakening, especially the ministry of revivalist Charles G. Finney, represented what can only be called America’s Counter-Reformation. Going beyond Rome’s Counter-Reformation in the direction of Pelagianism, Finney denied original sin, the substitutionary atonement, justification, and the supernatural character of the new birth; and he created a system of faith and practice tailor-made for a self-reliant nation. Evangelicalism-which is to say, at least in late eighteenth-century American Protestantism-was the engine for innovations. In doctrine, it served modernity’s preference for faith in human nature and progress. In worship, it transformed Word-and-sacrament ministry into entertainment and social reform, creating the first star-system in the culture of celebrity. In public life, it confused the Kingdom of Christ with the kingdoms of this world and imagined that Christ’s reign could be made visible by the moral, social, and political activity of the saints. There was little room for anything weighty to tie the movement down, to discipline its entrepreneurial celebrities, or to question its “revivals” apart from their often short-lived publicity. . . . Much of contemporary evangelicalism has its roots in Finney’s legacy and behind it, pietism, which for all of its benefits nevertheless already began to shift the weight of Christian witness from the triune God and his saving work in Christ to the self and its inner experience.
    • Orthodox Protestants in Europe always viewed evangelicalism as a uniquely British and American phenomenon, generally characterized as “Methodist.” Even in the United States, Presbyterian and Reformed churches had an ambivalent relationship to evangelicalism. On one hand, theologians like Warfield and Hodge understood the label “evangelical” as referring to the substance of catholic Christianity reformed and refined in the Reformation. Naturally, this made them closer allies with confessional Lutherans and Anglicans than with heirs of Finney, but the mainline Presbyterian Church itself was divided in the nineteenth century between Old School and New School bodies over revivalism. In many ways, evangelicalism more generally has struggled with this schizophrenic heritage of Reformation and Counter-Reformation influences. Churchmen like Warfield and Hodge regarded themselves as evangelicals in this Reformation sense and struggled to bring American Protestantism into line with this definition. They were also staunchly committed to and personally involved with the vast missionary endeavors of their denomination at home and abroad, bringing them into constant fellowship and cooperation with other evangelicals.
    • At the end of his lecture tour in the United States, Dietrich Bonhoeffer characterized American religion as “Protestantism without the Reformation.” Although the influence of the Reformation in American’s religious history has been profound (especially prior to the mid-nineteenth century), and remains a counterweight to the dominance of the revivalist heritage, Bonhoeffer’s diagnosis seems justified: “God has granted American Christianity no Reformation. He has given it strong revivalist preachers, churchmen and theologians, but no Reformation of the church of Jesus Christ by the Word of God….American theology and the American church as a whole have never been able to understand the meaning of ‘criticism’ by the Word of God and all that signifies. Right to the last they do not understand that God’s ‘criticism’ touches even religion, the Christianity of the church and the sanctification of Christians, and that God has founded his church beyond religion and beyond ethics….In American theology, Christianity is still essentially religion and ethics….Because of this the person and work of Christ must, for theology, sink into the background and in the long run remain misunderstood, because it is not recognized as the sole ground of radical judgment and radical forgiveness.”
    • Evangelicalism is like a village green, where people, leaving their homes and stores, come to mix and mingle. Or, as C. S. Lewis suggested, it is “mere Christianity”– the hallway where people meet and where non-Christians can hear Christ’s central claims. We were not meant to live on the village green or in the hallway, however, but in the homes and rooms. Evangelicalism is most useful as a meeting place, but disastrous for anyone who tries to make it a home. For a home, we need a church.
    • According to the former president of the National Association of Evangelicals, Ted Haggert, evangelicalism includes in its theological spectrum everyone from R. C. Sproul to Benny Hinn. Increasingly, I believe that the real vitality – the long-term progress – of the gospel in our time will not come from broad movements, including an evangelicalism defined more by the hegemony of its politics and sociology than by the unity of its faith and practice. Rather, I expect it to come from many churches, most of them relatively small and unheralded, which consistently confess – in preaching and sacrament, in catechesis and fellowship, in singing and liturgy, in outreach and diaconal care – that gospel that alone remains “the power of God unto salvation” (Rom. 1:16). After all, it was not to movements, parachurch agencies, and coalitions that Jesus pledged his support. Rather, he promised, “I will build my church and the gates of hell will never prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18).

    Since the old coalition is falling apart, according to McKnight, we are witnessing the rise of three alternatives:

    First, the ancient-future movement spearheaded by Robert Webber; second, the emergent/emerging movement spearheaded by young thinkers and leaders like Brian McLaren who knew that fundamentalism and the neo-evangelical coalition weren’t listening to the youth culture; and third, the revival of Calvinism among the NeoReformed, spearheaded – almost singlehandedly, I think – by John Piper and those who flocked to his side. Within this NeoReformed movement is the massive influx of Southern Baptists, who were formerly neither as vocal in their Calvinism nor as concerned with the older neo-evangelical coalition, but who are now undoubtedly a (if not the) major voice in the NeoReformed and fundamentalist awakening among some evangelicals.

    I am glad McKnight suggests that the new Calvinism is an alternative to evangelicalism rather than part and parcel of evangelicalism. I hope the neo-Calvinists will serve as a needful gadfly on the sluggish horse of American evangelicalism, precipitating intellectual depth, ecclesial passion, and doctrinal integrity through holy irritation.

    Justin Taylor, Kevin DeYoung, and Collin Hansen encourage me in their essay, “The Evangelical Reformed Movement: A Comeback” (notice how “evangelical” properly functions as an adjective rather than a noun):

    Where some Christians fret over the loss of Christian consensus in America and the growing ranks of the religiously unaffiliated, we see great opportunity. The demise of nominal Christianity opens new possibilities for genuine discipleship. If people nowadays are going to follow Christ, they want the strong stuff. They want robust theology, a big Christ, a deep gospel, and they aren’t afraid of serious demands.

    It is no coincidence that this movement of evangelical Calvinists thrives in pockets of America where church attendance has eroded. Mark Driscoll from Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Mark Dever at Capitol Hill Baptist Church in Washington, D.C., and Tim Keller of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan have three very different personalities and styles, and they represent three age brackets. But each, in his own way, has inspired many young pastors to pour their lives into dying churches and start new ones in cities considered skeptical toward evangelicals.

    The meaty theology of Calvinism has other aspects that bode well for its future. For one, the intellectual nature of the Reformed faith means that it tends to exert a disproportionate influence on Christian thinking and institutions through writing, scholarship, and formal theologizing. Second, the accent on God’s providential care over all encourages Christians to count the cost of discipleship in an increasingly hostile culture and trust God for the outcome.

    Throughout the centuries, missionaries such as William Carey and Adoniram Judson have found encouragement to persevere from the promise of God’s sovereignty. If the future holds further erosion of nominal Christianity, evangelical Calvinists are equipped to endure. Finally, a firm commitment to the full trustworthiness and authority of scripture – along with a settled conviction in substitutionary atonement and justification by Christ’s righteousness through faith alone – are historic and essential rail guards to keep evangelicalism on a biblically faithful path.



    Thursday, August 5, 2010, 12:10 AM

    Cornel West reconsiders Obama on NPR . . . thank God!

    Read the transcript or listen to the interview here.


    Monday, August 2, 2010, 11:27 PM

    On March 21, 2008, Anne Rice wrote an article, “My Trust in My Lord,” in The Washington Post. Here she describes her conversion experience:

    This was not a joyful moment for me. It wasn’t an easy moment. It was an admission that I loved and believed in God, and that my old atheism was a façade. I knew it was going to be difficult to return to the Maker, to give over my life to Him, and become a member of a huge quarreling religion that had broken into many denominations and factions and cults worldwide. But I knew that the Lord was going to help me with this return to Him. I trusted that He would help me. And that trust is what under girds my faith to this day.

    Within days of my return to Christ, I also became aware of something very important: that the first temptation we face as returning Christians is to criticize another Christian and his or her way of approaching Jesus Christ. I perceived that I had to resist that temptation, that I had to seek in my faith and in my love for God a complete certainty that He knew all about these factions and disputes, and that He knew who was right or who was wrong, and He would handle how and when He approached every single soul.

    On July 28, 2010, Anne Rice announced that she is abandoning Christianity on her Facebook page:

    For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being “Christian” or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to “belong” to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.

    I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of …Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

    The next she wrote:

    My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me. But following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been, or might become.

    On August 2nd, Anne Rice was interviewed about her decision to abandon Christianity on NPR’s All Things Considered.

    First Things bloggers Joe Carter, David P. Goldman, Elizabeth Scalia, and Joseph Bottum have already written on this story, and I do not have anything else to add except to ask this question: Where is the Anne Rice of March 21, 2008? Put differently, how can Anne Rice remain committed to Christ while rejecting his Bride and Body – the Church? Let us pray that Anne Rice recovers the better angels of her nature.


    Tuesday, July 27, 2010, 12:09 AM

    My friends and fellow bloggers are talking about metaphysics. So, I will jump in. Matt Milliner announces, “Attempts to overcome metaphysics [have] been shown to be themselves irrepressibly metaphysical.” Matt Anderson insists:

    Either a natural order exists, or we impose it.  Either the meaning is tied to the structure of things, or we make it up. And if the order exists, our options are conformity or rebellion.  There is no middle ground here, despite the ambiguities and uncertainties that we experience in our confrontation with it.  But if we reject metaphysics, our only resource for ethics is our will, and God’s.

    His point reminds me of a former professor of philosophy, who asked his students: Is reality discovered or constructed? For nearly an hour, the classroom engaged in a spirited discussion, students falling into one camp or another. Once the thoughts were fielded, the professor asked a final question: What if reality is both discovered through creation, incarnation, resurrection, and revelation while also constructed through human understanding?

    To reflect on this further, here is an excerpt from William Hasker’s Metaphysics: Constructing a World View (Contours of a Christian Philosophy):

    Is there a Christian metaphysic? According to [Alfred North] Whitehead, “Christianity has always been a religion seeking a metaphysic.” What he meant by this is that Christianity came into the world as a religion of salvation rather than a metaphysical system; since then Christian thinkers have adopted a number of different systems but have failed to establish one of them as definitive.

    If Whitehead is right about this, then in at least two senses there is not and cannot be such a thing as a Christian metaphysic. In the first place, there is no one metaphysical system which is definitively Christian, but rather a number of systems, all of them more or less inconsistent with each other and all of them more or less adequate to the content of Christian faith. But the fact that Christianity is a religion of salvation also suggests that in a sense no philosophical system can be fully Christian, because no philosophical system can express the unique content of Christianity.

    Philosophy is a discipline based on human reflection and human intellectual resources. But the message of salvation is not a discovery of human reflection. It comes to us by revelation, and Christians have consistently acknowledged that its central truths – the Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ, his atoning death for our sins, his resurrection from the dead, salvation by grace through faith – cannot be known by unassisted human thought. No metaphysical system can incorporate these truths without becoming something other than philosophy, and in this sense no metaphysical system can be fully and distinctly Christian.

    But if Christianity is not a metaphysical system, it nevertheless implies metaphysical claims. And since very early times Christian thinkers have struggled to formulate these claims in philosophical terminology and to demonstrate their rational acceptability using philosophical methods. If by a Christian metaphysic we mean the result of such reflection, in which a Christian thinker seeks to develop a metaphysical system which is compatible with Christian faith and which is an adequate vehicle for the expression of Christian convictions, then not only is there a Christian metaphysic, but there are quire a few of them . . . .

    First, a Christian metaphysic must speak of God. God is the ultimate and supreme reality; he takes first place in our answer to the metaphysical question, “What is there?” And an adequate account of God’s nature – at least, as adequate as possible – must be a high priority for Christian philosophy . . . . A Christian metaphysic must also speak of creation . . . . Finally, a Christian metaphysic must speak of man as the image of God.

    This then is metaphysics: a set of questions which press us to the very limits of human understanding, answers to those questions which are passionately held and yet deeply controversial, and in support of those answers seemingly endless arguments and counterarguments, rebuttals and counterrebuttals. The task of seeking understanding is indeed endless. May we all continue in it, as we seek to love God with all our minds.


    Thursday, July 22, 2010, 7:00 AM

    For the last several weeks I have been trying to develop an ecological orientation through the narrative imagination. By ecological orientation, I mean “a new consciousness of the country” or “a new relation to it,” as the narrator of O Pioneers! describes in the exquisite passage below, which deserves a close reading:

    Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch them, and to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it. Even her talk with the boys had not taken away the feeling that had overwhelmed her when she drove back to the Divide that afternoon. She had never known before how much the country meant to her. The chirping of the insects down in the long grass had been like the sweetest music. She had felt as if her heart were hiding down there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun. Under the long shaggy ridges, she felt the future stirring.

    The word “felt” appears four times and “feeling” one time because the author emphasizes that a connection with the land must involve our emotional life. Lest we confuse this orientation with sentimentalism, the narrator links feeling with reflection, thought, and consciousness––a neo-Stoic conception of emotions as cognitive construals of the world. Alexandra interprets the prairie in such a way that her future is bound up with it, much in the way that our future, as Christians, is bound up with the groanings of creation, as the apostle Paul says:

    For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the fruitfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience (Romans 8:18-25).

    When the passage from O Pioneers! is read in concert with this passage from the Book of Romans, we discover something very important: the nexus between creation, creature, and Creator. Too often Christians focus on the nexus between creature and Creator, neglecting creation. Unpacking Paul’s logic, we can see our redemptive narrative in nature’s mirror. Just as creation was “subjected to futility,” our flesh was in bondage to the “law of sin” (7:21-25). Just as creation will be liberated, our bodies will be resurrected. At the center of this redemptive narrative is the Creator, who summons us to wait patiently for the eschatological climax, similar to the Nebraskan farmer who waits patiently for her crops to yield a harvest. The challenge, I propose, is to feel that our hearts are hiding down in creation, where the future is stirring.

    How do we do experience this nexus between creation, creature, and Creator? Lisa Graham McMinn and Megan Anna Neff forthcoming book, Walking Gently on the Earth: Making Faithful Choices About Food, Energy, Shelter, and More, offers practical resources. I offer something else: the narrative imagination. This expression is borrowed from philosopher Martha Nussbaum, who defines it as “the ability to think what it might be like to be in the shoes of a person different from oneself, to be an intelligent reader of that person’s story, and to understand the emotions and wishes and desires that someone so placed might have.” Nussbaum limits the narrative imagination to persons. I will follow another philosopher, Martin Buber, who extends sympathetic identification to nature. Where Buber contrasts the “I-It” relation, which exercises a will to power, and the “I-Thou” relation, which exercises a will to love, Cather contrasts two different ecological ethics: the ethic of conquest and the ethic of care. When Alexandra, in the above passage, has “a new consciousness of the country” and feels “a new relation to it,” she no longer shares the view of her father and neighboring pioneers who only see the land as an “It” to be exploited. Instead, she views it as a “Thou” to be cultivated and cherished.

    The very act of reading O Pioneers! invites me to undergo this shift. I enter the narrative where the land becomes its own character––alive, mysterious, beautiful, idiosyncratic. So, where does an ecological orientation begin? In the imagination or heart, as Willa Cather famously says in her novel: “The history of every country begins in the heart of a man or a woman.”

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Wednesday, July 21, 2010, 10:00 AM

    When I taught humanities at a Christian secondary school, I spent the first week or so of the fall semester exploring how Christians should read because I anticipated that the pagan literature of the Greeks and Romans would chafe against my students’ delicate sensibilities and trigger reflexive habits. Select passages were read and discussed from Mortimer Adler’s How to Read a Book, C. S. Lewis’ An Experiment in Criticism, and Alan Jacobs’ A Theology of Reading: The Hermeneutics of Love––books that have forever changed the way I read.

    The goal that I have set for myself, as a teacher and book reviewer, was also set for my students: to be known as a charitable, equitable, and just reader. Such a goal humbles me because my shortcomings are apparent. Nevertheless, I pray––and I mean pray earnestly––that God will give me the grace to earn this reputation.

    Alan Jacobs helped me to realize that Jesus’ command to love the neighbor applies to the author who is often treated like an abstraction rather than a human being: “A new commandment I give you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). The hermeneutics of suspicion––a peculiar development of late modernity––prevails just as much inside the church as outside it. Therefore, we desperately need Christians who read in a counter-cultural way, whose faithful presence will make its mark in the world by their charitable reading.

    The first passage below is from Basil the Great’s sermon “To Young Men” and the second passage is from Jacobs’ book. I have repeatedly camped in the latter passage since I first encountered it, finding an equally liberating and challenging exhortation. Here’s the kicker: the loving reader––and, by implication, the loveless reader––is an “ecclesial, not a personal, achievement.”

    BASIL THE GREAT

    It is, therefore, in accordance with the whole similitude of the bees, that we should participate in the pagan literature. For these neither approach all flowers equally, not in truth do they attempt to carry off entire those upon which they alight, but taking only so much of them as is suitable for their work, they suffer the rest to go untouched. We ourselves too, if we are wise, having appropriated from this literature what is suitable to us and akin to the truth, will pass over this remainder. And just in plucking the blooms from a rose-bed we avoid the thorns, so also is garnering from such writings whatever is useful, let us guard ourselves against what is harmful.

    ALAN JACOBS

    [Basil the Great's] favored opposition between oikonomia (economy) and akribeia (scrupulosity) inherits and develops the older distinction between equity and the rigidity of the legal statutes. But as [Kathy] Eden explains, what really governs Basil’s continual employment of this distinction is its link with the Pauline contrast between the spirit and the letter. For Basil, the spirit (which gives life) is linked with “economical” and “equitable” reading: thus his argument that young Christians can benefit from the reading of pagan literature, but only if they do not read according to the killing letter of the law. By the strict terms of God’s law these works can but be condemned––not because they are thoroughly erroneous but because their command of the truth is limited, defective.

    We need to pause over this for a moment. Werner Jaeger writes that in Basil’s oration on Greek literature “the moral and religious content of ancient poetry is rejected, [whereas] the form is praised,” but this is manifestly wrong. Basil says quite explicitly that not only the great Homer, but indeed almost every pagan author with a high reputation, pursues wisdom and virtue. He is glad to be able to say this, because the education available to Christians in his time and place was largely pagan. As Edward Maloney, who edited Basil’s oration, writes: Though the Roman Empire was officially Christian, pagans still controlled the “institutions of culture” and hence the texts in which young students were trained. Basil, therefore, advises Christian students to learn the skills of discernment that will enable them to recognize when the pagan writers are teaching wisdom and virtue, so that they may eat such good fruit as is available. In a pre-Mandevillian “fable of the bees,” Basil encourages Christian students to follow the example of those insects by taking away, not whole flowers, but only the nourishment the flowers offer. And, in an ironically deft touch, he tells them that when the pagan writers teach sin or falsehood, the students should follow the example of Odysseus in the presence of the Sirens and stop their ears. As Eden points out, Odysseus is for Basil a recurrent model of prudence and good judgment.

    Basil readily acknowledges that everything one can learn from pagan literature one can learn better still form Scripture; but why not take every opportunity to grow in wisdom and virtue? The problem is to learn how to do so; and here we return to Eden’s description of Basil’s terminology. It is precisely a less “scrupulous” and more equitable reading of the pagan writers that releases them for our use. The pagan writers can, when read in this way, be used even if they cannot strictly speaking be enjoyed––their dependence on false gods and inadequate understandings of human beings must not be ignored or minimized, but rather overcome by the determination to love God and neighbor better through reading them. For a certain kind of politically minded critic, the only proper response to a morally deficient text is to condemn its deficiencies: Basil’s model provides a liberating alternative, in which even seriously wrong-headed books can provide some nourishment, nourishment for which we can be grateful.

    Perhaps the most important point of all is that to read in this way is an act of charity to the works one reads and to oneself––an act of charity that includes and supersedes justice. In the Confessions, it is precisely this model that undergirds Augustine’s reconfiguration, through memoria, of his literary education: The pagan scrupulosity that once had imprisoned him in Virgil’s inadequate moral world is, after his conversion, replaced by an equitable, “spiritual” re-interpretation that can make even the reading of Virgil and other pagans useful and beneficial. When Augustine talks as though the only valuable thing he learned from his literary education was how to read and write, he seems not to realize this point; only in the discussion of memoria in Book X does he approach the freedom and confidence of Basil.

    So far, so good. But… these questions cannot be fully explored without reference to the social and ecclesial context of interpretation. It is practically impossible simply to decide to read for justice and the charity that surpasses justice––to read for shalom. Thus Basil, knowing that the schools are pagan, assumes that the students to whom he writes will be nurtured by the counter-institution of the Church; it is the sound teaching of the Church that provides the students with the resources necessary to reconfigure, properly and healthily, the ideological world of the pagan writers and teachers….

    Comprehensive and just charity can be achieved only in the life of the Church. The Church is the school for virtue––for charity as the architectonic virtue––and it is within the communal practice of the Church that equitable, “economic” reading makes sense. Though rejecting scrupulosity in interpretation, Basil insists that the local congregation be scrupulous (he uses just that word) in its obedience to Scripture and to the dictates of the Catholic Church. As Eden points out, it is no accident that the argument for equitable interpretation flourished in the age of the great ecumenical councils, which had the function of prescribing the boundaries beyond which orthodox believers may not go. For Basil, it is this framework of faithful obedience to the Gospel witness that liberates the reader to read more generously, according to the spirit rather than the letter. Absent such faithful obedience, such reading would exemplify license rather than liberty, antinomianism rather than the freedom of Christian charity.

    The lessons are, I believe, clear, though daunting; no justice without the precedence and governance of charity; no charity without the guidance of the faithful and obedient church; no church without the Gospel that constitutes and inspires it. Charitable readers, equitable and just readers, will always be found here and there––one hopes––but a potent and fully articulated hermeneutics of love will arise only from a healthy community of believers. “Our kindness to ten persons” can be made righteous only in that context; only that context can teach us how to make our “circle of duty gradually and naturally expand itself.” In the life of the Church these become the common and quotidian elements of justice. Such fully charitable reading, in a just association of persons, will be an ecclesial, not a personal, achievement.

    Works cited:

    • Kathy Eden, Hermeneutics and the Rhetorical Tradition
    • Werner Jaeger, Early Christianity and Greek Paideia
    • Edward R. Maloney, St. Basil the Great to Students on Greek Literature

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Monday, July 19, 2010, 7:00 AM

    Blogging has several functions. One function that I particularly enjoy is broadcasting what’s “out there,” an appropriately vague phrase to capture the bewildering number of events, films, and books that deserve attention. I informed Evangel readers about recent films that are stirring the culture wars. In this post, I want to mention some promising new and upcoming books. Of course what qualifies as “promising” is relative to my idiosyncrasies and interests. Please let me know if any of them interest you, and if there are other new and upcoming titles that you want to read.

    INTERVARSITY PRESS

    EERDMANS

    BAKER PUBLISHING GROUP (Baker, Baker Academic, Brazos)

    BAYLOR

    • Richard Bauckham, The Bible and Ecology: Rediscovering the Community of Creation (August)
    • M. G. Piety, Ways of Knowing: Kierkegaard’s Pluralist Epistemology (September)
    • David G. Horrell, Cherryl Hunt & Christopher Southgate, Greening Paul: Rereading the Apostle in a Time of Ecological Crisis (October)
    • Laura Hobgood-Oster, The Friends We Keep: Unleashing Christianity’s Compassion for Animals (October)

    ZONDERVAN

    • Wesley Hill, Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality (September)
    • Michael S. Horton, The Christian Faith: Systematic Theology for Pilgrims on the Way (January 2011). From the publisher: “Michael Horton’s highly anticipated The Christian Faith represents his magnum opus and will be viewed as one of––if not the––most important systematic theologies since Louis Berkhof wrote his in 1932.”

    PRINCETON

    HARVARD

    YALE

    OXFORD

    • Roy F. BaumeisterDonna Freitas, Sex and the Soul: Juggling Sexuality, Spirituality, Romance, and Religion on America’s College Campuses (August)
    • Roy F. Baumeister, Is There Anything Good About Men?: How Cultures Flourish by Exploiting Men (August)
    • Paul Froese & Christopher Bader, America’s Four Gods: What We Say About God––And What That Says About Us (October)
    • D. Stephen Long, Christian Ethics: A Very Short Introduction (October)
    • Robert Scruton, The Uses of Pessimism: And the Danger of False Hope (October)
    • Henry Chadwick, Augustine of Hippo: A Life (October)
    • Daniel K. Williams, God’s Own Party: The Making of the Christian Right (October). From the publisher: “The most comprehensive history of the Christian Right ever published, revealing how the movement has transformed national politics.”
    • Anthony Kenny, A New History of Western Philosophy (October). Combining the individual volumes into a single volume, this is the most important history of Western philosophy since Frederick Copleston’s.
    • Elizabeth Knowles, How to Read a Word (December)
    • Bernard Schweizer, Hating God: The Untold Story of Misotheism (December)
    • Michael Schaller, Ronald Reagan (January 2011)
    • Kevin Whitehead, Why Jazz?: A Concise Guide (January 2011)
    • David Sehat, The Myth of American Religious Freedom (January 2011)
    • Lisa D. Pearce & Melinda Lundquist Denton, A Faith of Their Own: Stability and Change in the Religiosity of America’s Adolescents (January 2011)
    • Mark Regnerus & Jeremy Uecker, Premarital Sex in America: How Young Americans Meet, Mate, and Think about Marrying (January 2011)
    • Cass R. Sunstein, Going to Extremes: How Like Minds Unite and Divide (February 2011)
    • Scott H. Hendrix, Luther: A Very Short Introduction (February 2011)

    WILEY-BLACKWELL




    Saturday, July 17, 2010, 7:00 AM

    Why do people fail to acknowledge the reality of evil? My progressive friends––a list which is getting shorter and shorter––were baffled by the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the United States. They lacked a vocabulary and worldview to describe what happened. If British literary critic Terry Eagleton is right, there are at least three reasons for the failure to acknowledge evil: the first being a semantic divorce between “sin” and “evil,” the second being a change in the story that the West is telling itself, and the third being a suspicion about the uses of rhetoric on evil. The first two reasons signal the apatheism of our age while the last reason signals the culture wars between religious and secular humanists. With his characteristic humor and insight, Eagleton writes in his latest book:

    People differ on the question of evil. A recent poll reported that a belief in sin is highest in Northern Ireland (91 percent), and lowest in Denmark (29 percent). Nobody with a first hand acquaintance with that pathologically religious entity known as Northern Ireland (the greater part of Ulster) will be in the least amazed by that first finding. Ulster Protestants clearly take a dimmer view of human existence than the hedonistic Danes. One takes it that Danes, like most other people who have been reading the newspapers, do indeed believe in the reality of greed, child pornography, police violence, and the barefaced lies of the pharmaceutical companies. It is just that they prefer not to call these things sin. This may be because they think of sin as an offence against God rather than as an offence against other people. It is not a distinction that the New Testament has much time for.

    On the whole, postmodern cultures, despite their fascination with ghouls and vampires, have had little to say of evil. Perhaps this is because the postmodern man or woman––cool, provisional, laid-back and decentered––lacks the depth that true destructiveness requires. For postmodernism, there is nothing really to be redeemed. For high modernists, like Franz Kafka, Samuel Beckett, or the early T. S. Eliot, there is indeed something to be redeemed, but it has become impossible to say quite what. The desolate, devastated landscapes of Beckett have the look of a world crying out for salvation. But salvation presupposes sinfulness, and Beckett’s wasted, eviscerated human figures are too sunk in apathy and inertia even to be mildly immoral. They cannot even muster the strength to hang themselves, let alone set fire to a village of innocent civilians.

    To acknowledge the reality of evil, however, is not necessarily to hold that it lies beyond all explanations. You can believe in evil without supposing that it is supernatural in origin. Ideas of evil do not have to posit a cloven-hoofed Satan. It is true that some liberals and humanists, along with the laid-back Danes, deny the existence of evil. This is largely because they regard the word “evil” as a device for demonising those who are really nothing more than socially unfortunate. It is what one might call the community-worker theory of morality. It is true that this is one of the world’s most priggish uses… But to reject the idea of evil for this reason works better if you are thinking of unemployed council-estate heroin addicts rather than serial killers or the Nazi SS. It is hard to see the SS as merely unfortunate. One should be careful not to let the Khmer Rouge off the same hook on which delinquent teenagers are impaled.

    I welcome your feedback on this passage from Eagleton. Why do you think  some people fail to acknowledge evil?

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Friday, July 16, 2010, 7:00 AM

    If you are skeptical about postmodern thought, I encourage you to check out “The Church and Postmodern Series” by Baker Academic, which “features high-profile theorists in continental philosophy and contemporary theology writing for a broad, nonspecialist audience interested in the impact of postmodern theory on the faith and practice of the church.” Five out of the scheduled seven books have been published. I have read the following:

    • James K. A. Smith, Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism?: Taking Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault to Church
    • John D. Caputo, What Would Jesus Deconstruct?: The Good News of Postmodernism for the Church
    • Carl Raschke, GloboChrist: The Great Commission Takes a Postmodern Turn
    • Merold Westphal, Whose Community? Which Interpretation?: Philosophical Hermeneutics for the Church.

    Of these four titles, Caputo’s was my least favorite and the most problematic. If I had to pick only one in the series, I suggest the Smith title but the Raschke and Westphal titles are close runners-up. I anticipate reading Graham Ward’s The Politics of Discipleship: Becoming Postmaterial Citizens and Bruce Ellis Benson’s forthcoming title on improvisation as a paradigm for thinking about worship and the arts. (Bruce is a former professor of mine at Wheaton College.)

    I would like to share two of my published reviews with Evangel readers:

    • Books & Culture (April 2009): “The Message is the Messenger” [a review of Carl Raschke's GloboChrist].
    • Christian Scholar’s Review (Winter 2009): a review of Merold Westphal’s Whose Community? Which Interpretation?

    Here is my bibliography for all pomo-curious Christians.

    GENERAL PRIMARY SOURCES (I regard Nietzsche and Kierkegaard as proto-postmodernists)

    PRIMARY SOURCES ON CHRISTIANITY AND POSTMODERNISM

    GENERAL SECONDARY SOURCES ON POSTMODERN

    SECONDARY SOURCES ON CHRISTIANITY AND POSTMODERNISM

    STUDIES OF POSTMODERN PHILOSOPHERS

    * Information on above image: Roy Lichtenstein, Grrrrrrrrrrr!! (1965)


    Thursday, July 15, 2010, 7:00 AM

    Maya Angelou says he “thinks like a sage, acts like a warrior and writes like a poetical prophet.” Henry Louis Gates, Jr. says he is “the pre-eminent African-American intellectual of our generation.” And Marian Wright Edelman says he is “one of the most authentic, brilliant, prophetic and healing voices in America today.” This is all praise for Cornel West, the Class of 1943 University Professor at Princeton University and author of many books, including Race Matters, Democracy Matters, The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism, Prophesy Deliverance! An Afro-American Revolutionary Christianity, and Keeping Faith: Philosophy and Race in America.

    Cornel West’s passion for jazz is infectious. Music becomes the metaphor for his vocation as an intellectual, his humanity as a black man, and his politics as a radical democrat. Reflect on the incisive musings below from his book, Hope on a Tightrope: Words and Wisdom.

    The human voice itself is the greatest instrument. Black folks’ tradition begins with the voice. We try to make the instruments sound like our voices. Art Tatum vocalizes the piano. John Coltrane vocalizes the saxophone. Miles Davis vocalizes the trumpet. It’s the human voice you hear in the instrument. The human voice goes beyond technology, the poetry of the written page, and instrumental music.

    The irony is that you can’t find your voice unless you’re bouncing off the voices of the dead. That’s where tradition plays a role. Everybody knows that Jelly Roll Morton is gone. Buddy Bolden is gone. But their voices are still here.

    There’s no Wynton Marsalis without Duke Ellington. Duke is the voice of the dead. Now Wynton is in deep conversation. He’s in relation so he can create by finding his own voice. He is relating to someone who has expressed his voice in such a profound way. You get this wonderful interplay between past and present, which creates a new future musically.

    Music has been our most powerful creative expression. Of course, the music itself is based on the communal links of church, family, and social education. Our music reflects our unique sense of rhythm, harmony, and melody.

    For me, the deepest existential source of coming to terms with white racism is music. In some ways, this is true for black America as a whole, from spirituals and blues through jazz, rhythm and blues, and even up to hip-hop. From the very beginning, I always conceived of myself as an aspiring bluesman in a world of ideas and a jazzman in the life of the mind. What is distinctive about using blues and jazz as a source of intellectual inspiration is the ability to be flexible, fluid, improvisational, and multi-dimensional––finding one’s own voice, but using that voice in a variety of ways.

    The motif for my work has always been to sing in spoken word and written texts like Duke Ellington played and Sarah Vaughan sang, to swing, to create an intellectual performance that has a blues sensibility and jazzlike openness, to have the courage to be myself and find my voice in the world of ideas and in the life of the academy.

    American musical heritage rests, in large part, on the artistic genius of black composers and performers. This rich tradition of black music is not only an artistic response to the psychic wounds and social scars of a despised people. More importantly, it enacts in dramatic forms the creativity, dignity, grace, and elegance of African Americans without wallowing in self-pity or wading in white put-down.

    Blues sensibility is tragicomic but not sentimental. There are no pure heroes or impure victims. Good and evil are locked in all our souls. The question is, what kind of choices do we want to make?

    Blues––the elegant coping with catastrophe that yields a grace and dignity so that the spirit of resistance is never completely snuffed out.

    What is jazz all about? It’s about finding your voice. It’s about that long, difficult walk to freedom. It’s about mustering the courage to think critically. It’s about mustering the courage to care and love, and be empathetic and compassionate. But it’s also about being in a group with antagonistic cooperation, which means bouncing against one another so that you’re giving each other more and more courage to engage in higher levels of collective performance.

    Jazz is a mode of democratic action, just as blues is a mode of deep, tear-soaked individuality.

    Jazz is the middle road between invisibility and anger. It is where self-confident creativity resides. Black music is the paradigm for how black people have best dealt with their humanity, their complexity, their good and bad, negative and positive aspects, without being excessively preoccupied with whites. Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Coltrane were just being themselves. And for whites interested in the humanity of the “other,” jazz––a purely American form––provides them with examples of sheer and rare genius.

    One of the reasons jazz is so appealing to large numbers of white Americans is precisely because they feel that in this black musical tradition, not just black musicians, but black humanity is being asserted by artists who do not look at themselves in relation to whites or engage in self-pity or white put-down. This type of active, as opposed to reactive, expression is very rare in any aspect of African American culture.

    Louis Armstrong was an existential democrat, which meant that he believed in the dignity of ordinary people, and the potentiality of everyday people.

    If you have enough courage to lift your voice, become an agent in the world connecting with other voices, you can democratize your situation––because democracy is about voice lifting, and lack of democracy is about lack of voice.

    In performance, it’s your body as part of your voice, your critical intelligence as part of your voice, your feelings and passions as part of your voice. It’s a matter of mind, body, and soul.

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Wednesday, July 14, 2010, 7:00 AM

    We have seen it before and we will see it again: the culture wars are being played out in the American cinema house, this time covering the topics of same-sex marriage, Darwinism, and Evangelical scandal. Check out the trailers for these recent films.

    The Kids Are All Right (2010)

    8: The Mormon Proposition (2010)

    Creation (2010)

    Christianity Today review | Stephen D. Greydanus

    The Trials of Ted Haggard (2009)

    David Neff | Haggard “Deserves What He Got” | Christianity Today

    Further reading:

    • Brett McCracken, Finding the Line: When Is It Wrong to Watch a Movie? | Relevant Magazine

    • Brett McCracken, The New Christian Film Criticism | Relevant Magazine

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy



    Tuesday, July 13, 2010, 7:00 AM

    Music has undergone serious theological neglect according to Jeremy Begbie, a professionally trained musician and theologian at Duke Divinity School. In his introduction to Theology, Music and Time, he writes:

    In the twentieth century, the corridors of theology were not generally alive with the sound of music. Music has received virtually no sustained treatment in contemporary systematic theology. Much has been written about the bearing of literature upon theological disciplines (especially biblical hermeneutics), and the same goes for the visual arts. There have been some courageous forays into theology by musicologists, but apart from a few notable exceptions, twentieth-century theologians paid scant attention to the potential of music to explore theological themes.

    In some respects this is puzzling, given not only the supposedly limitless interests of theology, but also the universality of music in all cultures, and the unprecedented availability and ubiquity of music in so-called “post-modern” culture, the persistence of music in the worship of the Church, the strong traditions of theological engagement with music in past centuries, the intense interest shown in music by many philosophers past and present, the growing literature on the politics, sociology, and psychology of music, the recent emergence of ethnomusicology, and the intriguing deployment of musical metaphors by natural scientists. In the chapters which follow, we shall be touching upon some reasons for this theological neglect. Undoubtedly, one of them is the difficulty of speaking about music in ways which do justice to its appeal and which genuinely shed new light upon it. As George Steiner observes: “In the face of music, the wonders of language are also its frustrations.” Another reason is the opacity of the process of musical communication: it is clear that music is one of the most powerful communicative media we have, but how it communicates and what it communicates are anything but clear.

    Begbie’s Theology, Music and Time and Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music ought to be consulted, but for this blog post I am turning outside the theological guild to Michael Eric Dyson, a sociologist at Georgetown University and radio host.

    In “The Great Next: Jazz Origins and the Anatomy of Improvisation,” an interview that belongs to Open Mike: Reflections on Philosophy, Race, Sex, Culture and Religion, Dyson brings clarity to what Begbie calls “the opacity of the process of musical communication.” Reflecting on an interesting feature of African-American music (spirituals, blues, jazz), he observes how the double entendre allowed blacks to communicate with each other:

    A crucial feature of double entendres was the articulation of culturally coded messages and styles that signified on white dominant cultural structures while promoting black self-definition. Even though the dominant culture may have viewed blacks as barbarians and savages, as dumb animals incapable of abstract reasoning or “high” culture, they nevertheless reveled in the robustly playful elements of black cultural creativity. At their best, black folk refused to get struck in narrow Victorian modes of identity where they repressed consciousness of their sexual selves while exclusively engaging their spiritual nature. They didn’t buy into that bifucation between mind and body. As critic Michael Ventura argued, African cultures overcame the Cartesian dualism of the West because they contended that there was no such as being mental and spiritual over here and being physically embodied other there.

    The double entendre was about black folk having their cake and eating it too, so to speak: it was about healing the rift between body and soul; it was about playfulness while contesting white power in signifying fashion; and it was about enjoying and celebrating their culture even as vicious stereotypes abounded. That was terribly liberating to black folk who had been indoctrinated with the belief that they were inferior, that they were, in the words of Margaret Walker, “black and poor and small.”

    If there is an application for us, then I propose that Christian theologians, pastors, musicians, and laypersons consider how worship (or liturgy) communicates and what it communicates. Does church music promote the double entendre of Christian self-definition as this-worldly and other-worldly, embodied and ensouled, above beast and below angel, dust of the ground and breath of life? Does church music invite playfulness while contesting the powers that be?

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Monday, July 12, 2010, 10:01 AM

    Jesus taught that “people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil” (John 3:19). As an anthropological and ethical statement, this is unequivocally true. But do we need physical darkness?

    In a National Geographic article entitled “Our Vanishing Night,” Verlyn Klinkenborg writes about our biological need for darkness.

    Unlike astronomers, most of us may not need an undiminished view of the night sky for our work, but like most creatures we do need darkness. Darkness is as essential to our biological welfare, to our internal clockwork, as light itself. The regular oscillation of waking and sleep in our lives––one of our circadian rhythms––is nothing less than a biological expression of the regular oscillation of light on Earth. So fundamental are these rhythms to our being that altering them is like altering gravity.

    For the past century or so, we’ve been performing an open-ended experiment on ourselves, extending the day, shortening the night, and short-circuiting the human body’s sensitive response to light. The consequences of our bright new world are more readily perceptible in less adaptable creatures living in the peripheral glow of our prosperity. But for humans, too, light pollution may take a biological toll. At least one new study has suggested a direct correlation between higher rates of breast cancer in women and the nighttime brightness of their neighborhoods.

    In the end, humans are no less trapped by light pollution than the frogs in a pond near a brightly lit highway. Living in a glare of our own making, we have cut ourselves off from our evolutionary and cultural patrimony––the light of the stars and the rhythms of day and night. In a very real sense, light pollution causes us to lose sight of our true place in the universe, to forget the scale of our being, which is best measured against the dimensions of a deep night with the Milky Way––the edge of our galaxy––arching overhead.

    Spiritually we need the darkness “to reflect upon the great operations of nature” – an unappreciated act of worship for human beings who are spellbound by the great operations of technology. Alexandra Bergson, the enterprising farmer in O Pioneers!, inspired me recently to flee the light pollution of the city and drive to the mountains with friends in order to witness the providential governance of the universe in the night sky:

    Alexandra drew her shawl closer about her and stood leaning against the frame of the mill, looking at the stars which glittered so keenly through the frosty autumn air. She always loved to watch them, to think of their vastness and distance, and of their ordered march. It fortified her to reflect upon the great operations of nature, and when she thought of the law that lay behind them, she felt a sense of personal security. That night she had a new consciousness of the country, felt almost a new relation to it.

    From National Geographic:

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy


    Sunday, July 11, 2010, 7:00 AM

    We all struggle with rest.

    The paradox of modernity, according to theologian Colin Gunton, is that “a world dedicated to the pursuit of leisure and of machines that save labour is chiefly marked by its levels of rush, frenetic busyness and stress.” Liberals and conservatives, secularists and persons of faith all seem to agree that time poverty is a modern malaise . . . .

    Renunciation with respect to time is making a comeback. Slow food, voluntary simplicity, and Take Back Your Time all assert, as does the Sabbath, that there is more to life than producing and consuming. All of which raises the question: Are trips to the spa––or weekends in general––really functional equivalents of the Sabbath? . . . .

    Slow and simple are not sufficient solutions because restlessness runs deeper than mere overwork. Precisely because our disorder turns out to be not just cultural but rather part of the human condition, holiness matters.

    How shall we then rest? Religious Jews welcome the Sabbath into their home as if it were personified, infusing it with almost salvific significance, and Christians personify the Sabbath in the person of Christ, the Lord of the Sabbath. Believers who rest in Christ, as one scholar put it, “will not need to worship their work or work at their place, but there will be an inner liberation, a genuine leisure in the way in which they go about both the work and the play of the week to the glory of God.”*

    * Karl E. Johnson, “How Shall We Rest?”, Books & Culture (July/August 2010): 14-15. [Review of Judith Shulevitz's The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time].


    Friday, July 9, 2010, 7:00 AM

    A Meditation on Willa Cather’s O Pioneers!

    Shortly after the death of Nebraska pioneer John Bergson, his children––Alexandra, Lou, Oscar, and Emil––go on a “pleasure excursion” to buy a hammock from Crazy Ivar, who obtained the name from his hermetic lifestyle, strange speech, partly-cloudy mind, and unorthodox veterinary medicine, in which he groans when the animal experiences pain, takes the same medicine, and prays for its well-being.

    What fascinates me about Ivar is the wisdom of his idiosyncrasies. He walks gently on the earth when his distant neighbors are trying to manipulate the land. Where they make their presence known with big farmhouses, he prefers a seamless existence with the land, as the narrator writes:

    “Look, look, Emil, there’s Ivar’s big pond!” Alexandra pointed to a shining sheet of water that lay at the bottom of a shallow draw. At one end of the pond was an earthen dam, planted with green willow bushes, and above it a door and a single window were set into the hillside. You would not have seen them at all but for the reflection of the sunlight upon the four panes of window-glass. And that was all you saw. Not a shed, not a corral, not a well, not even a path broken in the curly grass. But for the piece of rusty stovepipe sticking up through the sod, you could have walked over the roof of Ivar’s dwelling without dreaming that you were near a human habitation. Ivar had lived for three years in the clay bank, without defiling the face of nature any more than the coyote that had lived there before him had done.

    Where his neighbors show a zeal to exploit the land, Ivar practices an ethic of stewardship, hiring “himself out in threshing and corn-husking time,” doctoring sick animals, and making twine hammocks. Pleasure – not profit – motivates his activities. Human waste grieves Ivar because it spoils the goodness and beauty of creation:

    Ivar found contentment in the solitude he had sought out for himself. He disliked the litter of human dwellings: the broken food, the bits of broken china, the old wash-boilers and tea-kettles thrown into the sunflower patch. He preferred the cleanness and tidiness of the wild sod. He always said that the badgers had cleaner houses than people, and that when he took a housekeeper her name would be Mrs. Badger. He best expressed his preference for his wold homestead by saying that his Bible seemed truer to him there. If one stood in the doorway of his cave, and looked off at the rough land, the smiling sky, the curly grass white in the hot sunlight; if one listened to the rapturous song of the lark, the drumming of the quail, the burr of the locust against that vast silence, one understood what Ivar meant.

    Notice how “his Bible seemed truer to him there.” The narrator informs us that Ivar “committed chapters of the Bible to memory.” When the Bergson clan arrives at his dwelling on a Sunday afternoon, Ivar’s “face shone with happiness” while he memorized a section of Psalm 104, which praises the Creator for quenching the thirty land and sheltering all creatures great and small. On the page, Ivar observes divine solicitude for donkesy, birds, and wild goats. Off the page, he observes the same care for ducks, cranes, and a displaced seagull. Ivar’s conclusion: we are watched by loving eyes.

    Alexandra was the only Bergson child who intuited the wisdom of Ivar’s idiosyncrasies; the others laughed, as we might, at the fool who lived like a savage rather than a “civilized” man.

    Cross posted at Mere Orthodoxy

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