(Ir)religiosity

I feel somewhat obligated to comment on the the latest “death of emergent” meme looping its way around the blogosphere. If you know what I’m talking about, you’re probably tried of hearing and talking about it — if you don’t, Tony has the most comprehensive link list I’ve seen. Just be sure you check out the post (and the comments) by Nick Fiedler that started it all, whether he wanted it too or not: “The Great Disappointment (A Post About Emergent). To be fair, Nick has further clarified his feeling in a later post, and perhaps best in a video chat with Zach Lind.

I’ve read/listened to all of these posts and commented on most of them, floating my thought on the whole thing. But after reading and commenting and re-reading and getting too upset and deleting comments I had typed up and ready to submit, I think I’m ready to publicly reflect.

I’ve expressed some of my own “disappointment” (as I originally called it) in some of my comments, but for different reasons. I said more than once and in a few different ways, that I’d like for the movement at large to move past a rejection of traditional Christianity and on to a different stage of the conversation. In other words, I’d like for us to get over the baggage that comes along with traditional evangelicalism and maybe even engage some fundamentalists from the other side of the spectrum who seem to think they have a monopoly on the prophetic voice.

Now I’m beginning to see that that’s not really disappointment at all. It’s my hope for the future of the conversation. That there is never any stasis in our dialogue and that we’re always pushing the envelope with a creative imagination.

And now you know where I stand. Read the rest of this entry »

Last week I posted an article over at Emergent Village titled “What Happens After Sola Scriptura?” exploring what I believe is viable alternative to a traditional view of Scripture.  An alternative that maintains a deep respect for Scripture and takes it very seriously while admitting our limitations as human beings who cannot read Scripture (or anything for that matter) in a vacuum.  My contention was that reading is always already interpretation and interpretation is always already situational.  The history of hermeneutics is indicative of that and I think it demonstrative that Scripture is not infallible or inerrant.  Even if it was, our ability to read it without biases or prejudices is permanently inhibited — we are human after all.  And I believe that is part of the human condition.

The article received a quite a bit of feedback, some positive and some negative.  However, I great deal of the responses fell into one of two categories, both of which I feel missed the larger point I was trying to get across.  So I want to take a minute and address each of them.

First, the original post was not written from a historical perspective nor was it meant to evaluated as such.  I understand that Luther and other Reformers posited a different idea of Sola Scriptura than what I delineated.  I also understand that Luther lived in a different time than we do, more specifically a period prior to the Enlightenment.  I’m sure that Luther et al. meant well and I believe that Sola Scriptura was helpful and useful for them during the Reformation.  But as post-Enlightenment individuals, I don’t believe we can hold such ideas in the same manner as we once could.  And I think the various ways in which Sola Scriptura has been abused and misused since then are demonstrative of that fact.  We have a different type of consciousness and Sola Scriptura today means something wholly different than it did in the 16th century.  We can’t help that.  There is no going back in my view.  And because our understand has changed, so must our response.  Which is why I suggest Prima Scriptura as an alternative to Sola Scriptura as it has come to be understood.  I have no desire to take on the entire Reformation.  I believe it was helpful and I admire it, which is why I refuse to let it crust over into dogma.  I believe we must always be reforming.  For some of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura, I suggested a different alternative (an alternative that is by no means new by the way) as a means why which we can continue to reform.

Which leads me to the second point I want to make and one that may be the most important. I have absolutely no interest in imperialism of whatever form, be it cultural, historical, social, or theological.  I can say that without equivocation.  I find such an idea to be not only arrogant and destructive, but also decidedly un-Christians and completely counter-intuitive to the way of Jesus.  So when I privilege Prima Scriptura over Sola Scriptura I am by no means suggest that anyone who holds the latter dearly should immediately reject it for the sake of the former.  Not at all.  What I am trying to do is speak for those of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura and wish to explore another alternative.  I am not out to win everyone over to my side.  In my view, if Sola Scriptura works for you, if it helps you to better love God and neighbor in your context, if it helps you to participate in God’s kingdom of restoration and renewal, if it helps you bear witness to the good news, and if it helps you embody the fruits of the Spirit in your life, then I have no reason to dismantle it for you.  I would say the same of the alternative.  In the words of William Barclay, “No man can disregard a religion and a faith and a power which is able to make bad men good.”  If that involves Sola Scriptura, more power to you.  Go in peace to bear witness to God’s kingdom.  If it doesn’t, my hope in the original article was that I provide an alternative (again, not at all an original one!) that might you to do that.

My point here is that we should hold our views of Scripture, whatever they are, honestly understanding that they are only efficacious insofar as they push us toward transformation and restoration into the image of God.  If you can hold Sola Scriptura honestly and it does that, wonderful. Let us join together to do the work with which we have been charged.  Personally, I cannot hold Sola Scriptura in such a way.  And it is my hope that others who cannot will find a useful alternative.  For me, that alternative is Prima Scriptura, it is that sentiment that I sought to convey in the original post.

I wrote an article exploring a viable alternative to Sola Scriptura over at the Emergent Village blog.  Here’s a little taste.

“You emergent-y, postmodern-ish types just want to do away with Scripture! You don’t want to take the time to seriously wrestle with the Bible!”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard those lines or something similar. You would think I developed a good answer a long, long time ago but I didn’t. For far too long I only spoke about the ways I didn’t want to view Scripture, which really only exacerbated the problem. Too many of us do that. I would like to suggest an alternative descriptive to our view of Scripture, something that is both positive and constructive.

Phyllis Tickle has suggested that it’s not if Sola Scriptura ends, but when. So what comes next? As much as I love to tag the “p word” before words, I’m not so sure it is sufficient for us to simply say we are post-Sola Scriptura. The Bible is too important for us to only strike-through the “sola.” And I think that many of us who resonate very deeply with Tickle’s sentiment take Scripture too seriously to only be reactionary. Frankly, we can’t afford to.

Read the rest at Emergent Village.

We like to dichotomize things.  It makes our lives much easier when things can be easily compartmentalized and divided.  But the problem with that tendency is that it creates unneeded — and often blatantly false — polarities and bifurcations.  These type of constructions are endemic in the modern church and some of the more common and noticeable ones are the divisions between conservative and liberal, evangelical and progressive, traditional and contemporary, and so on.  Even within the latest renewal movement which aims to rethink and re-imagine “church” and Christianity we see a division between emerg-ing and emerg-ent.  This penchant to create fissures and fractures seems to be a natural one.

Nevertheless, I think something is missed in doing so because no group or category has a monopoly on Truth (capital “T”) but each one has a certain part, a certain important piece, of the truth (little “t”), a piece that is lost when its counterparts jettison it altogether.  So I like the tension and the dialectic.  To me, that’s the real sweet spot.  It can be painful and messy, yes, but I think that makes it all the more beautiful.

Of all these petty and unnecessary binaries the division between orthodoxy and orthopraxy is one of the most important, or at least one with greater implications.  It’s also one of the most divisive that will almost always incite inflammatory or emotional reaction from someone.  Really, when you think about it, where stand here has implications for just about everything.  It’s serious business.  And the usual arguments are so…tiresome.  Conservatives insist that orthodoxy trumps everything and that it must be vigorously defended against heresy.  Likewise, liberals, quoting Matthew 25 no doubt, rebut that praxis must be emphasized over (and sometimes against) belief.  But both poles have blind spots, blind spots that their counterparts love to point out.   And so goes the endless deadlock and debating round and round the circle.

I think both of these points are hopelessly unimaginative and helplessly beholden to a modern mindset that is very quickly becoming outmoded.

I want to suggest that it is not either/or and that placing doxis (belief) and praxis (action) against one another misses the larger movement.  I think it is and/both.  And rigid hegemony of either is dangerous if not destructive.  Belief is deeply important to me but only insofar as it transforms the very fabric of my being, rupturing my comfortable and conventional way of relating to the other, with something wholly Other, something I otherwise thought to be impossible, even absurd, but now made very possible via my response to God’s grace and Jesus’ to call to radical love.  Similarly, those tangible actions and that palpable praxis, because it is so radical and beyond predictable possibility, simply cannot be brought to full fruition without a grounding narrative or belief, a reliance on something beyond my own finite human capacities.

So both belief and action are inherently interdependent and mutually interactive.  And both are understood differently.  Belief is not simply something to which I submit my mental or cognitive assent, neither is action, like some sort of fetish, something I do in order to avoid guilt or shame.  Both of those usual conceptions avoid real transformation.  As much as we might argue otherwise, they just don’t alter our being, our person-hood, and our relations with God, self, and the other.    And for me that is the ultimate point.  That is what we are striving for:  individual and collective transformation so that we are realigned according to God’s purposes, restored of the Imago dei so we can responsibly participate in God’s alternate reality (what Jesus called the kingdom of God) and graciously increase the love of God and neighbor in our various contexts.

Belief and action, doxis and praxis.  Both are very important and both are contingent upon the other, but neither can be allowed to crust over into tired dogmatism because when they do we run the dangerous risk of slipping into idolatry. And when we do that, well, we’ve really missed the point.

My friend Matt Scott is starting a new blog consortium and emergent collective.  Open Table Theology will be an place to foster diverse theological conversation and hopefully an outlet for voices — important and interesting voices, to be sure — that might not otherwise be heard amidst the noise of social media.

You can read more of Matt’s thoughts on the project here and here.

The idea is to gather together a diverse group of persons who are interested in creating an participating in open theological conversation about a wide variety of topics.  You don’t have to be a blogger to participate.  You should have to be someone who has something to share.

A new theme/topic will be selecting each month beginning in June.  There’s really no limit to contribution at this point.  Submissions will be posted and hopefully a thoughtful and engaging conversation will be sparked and continue for the duration of the month.

So here’s the deal. These sorts of things only work well if people participate.  We need contributors! If you’re interested stop by and sign up and you will receive and email from Matt with instructions.  If you don’t want to be a steady contributor add the Open Table RSS feed to your feed reader so you can join in the conversation once it gets going.  The more people we have involved the richer and more engaging the conversation will be.  So check it out!

I recieved some more Transforming Theology material the other day.  Three pamphlets:  two on the bible and one on process theology by John Cobb, entitled “Process Theology:  An Introductory Introduction,” which, because of the subtitle, immediately caught my eye.

As I understand it, the aim of  Transforming Theology project is bring the church and the academy back into dialogue with one another in order to participate in individual and collective transformation.  If that is true, then this process theology booklet makes a good contribution.

It is very short.  A mere 30 pages containing the manuscript of a lecture Dr. Cobb gave at Claremont School of Theology back in 2004.  The subtitle is spot on; it is about as introductory as introductory can be, but that is its strength.  Because of its philosophical nature (Whitehead, Hartshorne, etc.), process theology is often dismiss by many non-academicians who lack such a background.  However, process thought is in a unique position to provide a lasting contribution to practical theology in my opinion because of its answer to theodicy and its suggestions as to the nature of God.

Because process theology’s answer to both those questions (why evil? and who is God?) tends to diverge from the traditional views many Christians hold (at least in my experience) an account of process theology that relies on scripture more than philosophy is needed in order to adequately bring it into dialogue with the average person in the pew.

Cobb does exactly that in this short essay.  I found it to be surprisingly accessible and I almost wished it were longer.  That may be another strength.  It just enough to whet the appetite of one who has no prior exposure to process theology or a background in philosophy.  Just enough to spark a conversation.

The pamphlets are published by the Center for Process Studies.  I think they would make excellent brochecure box stuffers!

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So I’m participating in the new Transforming Theology Project as member of the blogger consortium.  Dr. Philip Clayton explains what the project is all about in a short video here.  Next month, theologians and church leaders will be meeting to discuss how theology can be transformed, or better yet,  freed, from the ivory towers of the academy and placed back in the trenches of the church where it belongs.

Part of the project, since it is aimed at tranforming theology for the people, is to involve bloggers, who will read and critically engage books from various theologians and church leaders, hopefully coming up with some pressing questions that will stimulate the larger conversation.

First up is John Cobb‘s Reclaiming the Church sent to me last week by Tripp Fuller, of Homebrewed Christianity fame.

The book itself is really short, only 110 pages.  I almost wish it were longer.  I say that because Cobb spends a lot of time diagnosing the problem, which is good and he does so well.  But I think want is really needed are tangible, practical ways in which this gap between the academy and the church can be bridged.    We need people to cast a vision and offer a plan of action.

Part of this may have to do with when the book was published — it is now 12 years old.  Not that old, but when you consider what has taken place in the church over that period time it makes sense.  Let me explain.

As Cobb sees it, the problem in part — though he nuances it a bit more — rests on what he calls the “professionalization of theology.”  He argues that just over the last 50 years or so theology has been moved outside of the church and isolated in the university.  He states in the preface:

The church has come to identify theology with what professionals do. Since what professionals do has been increasingly determined by the norms of the university rather than by the needs of the church, the church has lost interest in what it understands to be “theology.” Too often the result has been that the church has ceased to think about its own life in terms of its faith, a faith that has itself become vague and unconvincing.

The abandonment and failure to have a more holistic faith with an informed and critically thought out theology has lead to two things in Cobb’s estimation:  a loss of passion and subsequent lukewarmness.  The church has simply ceased to be relevant because it has ceased to engage its culture, its context and its world by continually developing and re-developing a practical theology.

Cobb argues that this “professionalization” was brought on by Enlightenment rationalism and modernity in general.  The American church borrowed theological method and pedagogy from the German school and as theology became professionalized it also became a detached, scientific enterprise that offered little, if anything, to the church itself.  Disciplines themselves were fractured as theology was needless parsed into various sub-categories: ethics, systematic theology, church history and so on.

In the meantime the cultural and philosophical ground upon which the church stood literally shifted underneath its feet.  Cobb ends the book suggesting that if theology is to be reclaimed by the church, both the church and the academy as instiutions must appropriately accommodate and respond to the new emerging, postmodern worldview.  He argues that the shift from modernity to postmodernity opens up new possibilities for a transformative theology.

I would argue that much of what Emergent has done in the last ten or so years has greatly helped in making sense of the cultural and philosophical shifts that are occurring.  Many emergent/ing churches are now taking theological education very seriously and many pastors are in conversation with academicians and vice versa.  For some, the differences between the tradition roles of each office are becoming less clear. I wonder how Cobb might write the book differently today in light of that.

To be sure, I am not suggesting that any of this is enough.  Our seminaries and schools of theology are still very much entrenched in a very modern, Enlightenment-based pedagogy.  From that we need to be freed.  Furthermore, many churches still frown upon “theology” as a collective, ecclesial enterprise.  Many pastors and lay persons still don’t consider themselves theologians because there is a certain stigma surrounding the term.  This has to change.

We need some serious, creative pastors and academicians who are willing to step up and dialogue with one another about theological education.  Somewhere between the lectern in the classroom and the pulpit in the church theology is getting lost.  We need to find out where.  In the meantime professors need to understand that it’s okay to be pastoral and pastors that it’s not snobbish to be intellectual.  More people need to challenge those traditional roles.

I think the implications of such a conversation might suggest that we need to both rethink our pedagogy in the academy and our preaching/worship in the church.  I have to wonder if both institutions are willing not only to hear that but also modify their approaches in order to allow actual, tangible transformation of theology to take place.

I have hope, but bulky institutions don’t usually take to those things easily.  We shall see.

Thoughts?

Peter Rollins has an excellent post on why/how he denies the resurrection that has been bouncing around the blogosphere over the last week or so.  If you haven’t read it you should, he has some good food for thought.  Ultimately, insisting on rigid assent to the factuality and historicity of the resurrection misses the point.  Indeed, one could assent to such propositions and still unashamedly deny the very existence and power of the  resurrection. The point is not so much what may or may not have happened in the past, but what is happening now in the continued present and on into the im/possible future.

This strikes to the very root of belief.  Todd Littleton offers a great comment:

We cannot say what we believe. We only do what we believe.

Jonathan Brink has two excellent posts that address this very thing.  Our true, and often hidden belief, it seems to me at least, lies not in our creedal propositions or our elaborate systematic theologies (though those are not without some merit) but in our naked encounters with the other and our willingness to allow oursleves to be transformed by such a meeting.  It is in that moment and through that event that our true belief, birthed through vulnerability and empathy and with complete disregard for dignified formulation, is laid bare for all to see.

We simply cannot rightly speak of what we truly believe.  It evades the very extremities of our language and discourse.  For true, transformative belief — and in theology I cannot think of any legitimate belief except that which truly transforms — can only be made known within the realm of relationship and the sphere of praxis.

That’s the claim that Tony Jones makes in The New Christians.  I first read the book last year when it came out (read my short review here), but I’m re-reading it now for a class I’m taking on the Emergent/ing church at ANTS (Oh, and Tony is actually teaching it.  So that’s cool) and that quote really jumped out at my this time.

“The Bible is propaganda.”  Pretty provocative.  But it makes more sense when you think about it.  Tony explains further:

Propaganda has a point and a purpose.  It doesn’t claim to be objective.  It’s trying to convince someone of something.  It’s trying to get people to join a cause, join a movement.  Isn’t that exactly what the Bible is? . . .It is a living, breathing document that makes a claim on its readers’ lives.  It’s like the pamphlets surreptitiously printed by Paul Revere and his compatriots in 1776 — propaganda in that sense.  It’s God’s manifesto, Jesus’ Little Red Book.

I think Tony is right.  The bible is propaganda.  Maybe if we actually owned up to the fact that we have an agenda — of realizing God’s kingdom, of pursuing justice, promoting peace, and participating in cosmic restoration and renewal — we might be more effective in bearing witness to the hope that lies within us.

What think ye?

Yesterday was indeed a day of tremendous rejoicing.  Barack Hussein Obama — a man whose father was a poor immigrant from Kenya, a man who not long ago wouldn’t have been able to sit across the table from a white man in a restaurant, and a man who only 4 years ago many Americans, upon seeing his name in writing might label as a ‘terrorist’ — took the oath of office and was inaugurated as the 44th President of the United States of America.  Truly a historic moment and a historic day.

I look forward to someday in the future telling my children and grandchildren where I was on the day that we the people chose to officially ratify the words written on that document so long ago, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” For many these ‘self-evident truths’ became a very visceral reality on January 20, 2009, the dawn of a new era in the American story.  That day will live on in the pages of history as a moment when America set aside its partisanship and differences and embraced the hope and inspiration that lies within us all.

But that was yesterday.  And today is, well, today is the beginning of tomorrow.  The beginning of the continued tomorrow that is the world after Obama’s inauguration.  A world where Guantanamo Bay still exists as an aberration of human rights; a world where the United States is still fighting two wars and occupying at least one country; a world where the violence and turmoil in the Middle East — whichever ‘side’ you may choose — are almost unbearable; a world where the global economy and world markets are tanking and taking the poorest among us as their first victims; a world were the twin monsters of classism and yes, racism still very much exist; and a world where the choices of past and present are undeniably threatening the existence of the future.  This is the world in which Obama, and all of us, live, move, and have our being.

My relationship with President Obama has changed. Because of his position and responsibility as President, and because of my position and responsibility as a citizen, I must raise my voice in either dissent and criticism as the time arises; I must maintain prophetic distance, not because I dislike President Obama, but because he is now the representative and leader of the American empire, the largest, most powerful nation on earth — and he, like those before him, must be held to account.  It is my responsibility as one on the margins to aid in ensuring that that happens.  For what it’s worth, I think it may be happening a lot less these next four years than in recent memory, but it must happen.  And when the time arises to criticize, those of us with that vocation must not fail to speak out.

Watching him during the inaugural ceremonies yesterday, I get the very real sense that President Obama truly feels the gravity of his office — especially now — and the very real urgency of our situation.  I have a sense of hope — not messianic hope mind you! — in his presidency that I have never felt for a political leader.  I have faith that this feeling of hope will deliver.  And I am willing to place my trust in President Obama for a while.  We will see what happens.  If he holds true to his word and remains transparent and honest, then we may very well be in for a ride.  In a good way.

So yesterday I celebrated, I raised my glass to President Obama and the history that his inauguration symbolizes.  But today. . .today I begin the work of the continued tomorrow, not because I don’t like President Obama I really do, but because I have committed myself to always remain on the side of justice.  And that commitment will at times place me against President Obama simply by virtue of his office.

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