During Thanksgiving dinner, a conversation ensued about whether or not the events recorded in the Book of Job actually took place. Of course, most critical scholars reject Job's historicity, so those who agree with the critical scholarly consensus, but who wish for Job to still have some meaning, have some explaining to do. Some do this by asserting that the truths taught about God, Satan, man and the problem of evil in this beautifully poetic, albeit mythical, story are still true, even thought the events that convey the truths are not.
I made a feeble attempt to defend Job's historicity — I'm not very good on the spot unless I've recently studied the idea under discussion and even then … — but over the next few days, one statement kept nagging at me: "Whether or not the Book of Job is literally true doesn't make a difference in my day-to-day life." Everything in me revolts against such a statement because I believe the Bible to be a completely relevant Book that should make a difference in our day-to-day lives precisely because the things in it actually happened. The picture of God and His sovereignty found in the Book and Job's character under utterly unique and horrible circumstances cries out for us to live with a bigger picture of God and a humbler view of self. I don't think the message cries out so strongly if the story isn't literally true. However, I couldn't think of a precise way to argue that point with someone for whom Job's historicity doesn't make a difference. So, as is the case with many of the thoughts that give us pause throughout our lives, since the topic didn't come up again, I stopped thinking about it.
Until a few days ago, that is. Amidst the slew of Evangelical books published in the past decade addressing postmodernism, I actually found one worth reading. It is Heath White's Postmodernism 101: A First Course for the Curious Christian. If you don't quite have a handle on postmodernism and would like a place to start, this is it. If you do have a handle on postmodernism and would like a fresh perspective on how the Church ought to live in such an age, read this book. Even if you don't care about postmodernism at all, read it. It's just that good.
Anyway, in addressing the importance of the Bible's literal historicity, White, with characteristic simplicity and clarity, says:
"So let's ask: why is it so important that the Bible be (literally, historically) true, rather than merely instructive or edifying or inspirational? The answer, I suggest, is that the Bible is fundamentally the record of God's action in history. It begins with God initiating history in creation; it continues with God's calling Abraham and forming a special people, the nation of Israel. It passes to the life of a genuine historical man who was also God and to the founding of a uniquely inspired institution, the Christian church. It ends with the promise of a future divine intervention in history, a final judgment. The message of the long trajectory of the salvation story is that God acts in this world for the purposes of judgment and redemption. He has in the past with others: he will in the present and future with you. That's the story's point, and it isn't a very plausible point if the story isn't basically—literally, historically—true."
On the one hand, I admit that denying Job's historicity doesn't deny the historicity of the whole Bible. We don't have to believe in Job the way we are called to believe in the Resurrection. On the other hand, where lies the line of demarcation between those Books and events accepted as historically, literally true and those that aren't? If we don't have to declare Job a myth, why should we? A number of Evangelical scholars readily admit that Job has gone through stages of redaction. For instance, there is no need to believe that the story's participants originally spoke in such constant rhythmic, poetic patterns. At the same time, there is no need to deny that all of the main elements of the story have a historical core, of which the opening and closing chapters seem to be trying to convince us. I think the message of the Book of Job carries more weight if it literally and historically took place. Rather than side with the critical scholars, many of whom deny that God exists or that He acts in the world, I choose to trust those scholars who take the message of the Bible seriously, but not blindly, and who seek to figure out how the Book of Job can be so beautifully dramatic and poetic yet still preserve for us a literal, historical account of God acting in the world, a message which gives us hope that He can and will do so with us as well. I could be wrong, but with no reason to believe that I am, I'll let the story speak to me as most of my fellow believers throughout history have let it speak to them, i.e., more powerfully because it actually happened.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Let's Not Overstate the Case
In the December 2006 issue of First Things journal (#168), J. Daryl Charles writes a stimulating article titled "Protestants and Natural Law." The thrust of the article is that, over the last few centuries, Protestants have lost a robust natural-law theology as it exists, for instance, in the Roman Catholic Church. With such a loss, Protestants lack any adequate basis for a moral apologetic or for contribution to civil society. To prove his thesis, Charles points to three Protestant theologian/ethicists who not only lack a positive natural-law theology, but actually denounce a role for natural law in Christian theology. His examples are Karl Barth, John Howard Yoder and Stanley Hauerwas. On the basis of his research, Charles makes claims like:
"[Protestants] are remarkably joined in their opposition to natural-law thinking."
"Many, Protestant Evangelicals in particular, presume that natural-law thinking fails to take seriously the condition of sin and places misguided trust in the powers of human reason debilitated by the Fall."
"Despite the cleavage between theological fundamentalists and progressives, objections to natural law have united most Protestants."
I was disturbed by Charles' general claims about Protestant objections to natural law, in spite of his initial caveats, for a number of reasons. First of all, during the more than 10 years I spent as a student in an Evangelical institution, I became adequately acquainted with natural-law theory and theology, and not primarily in negative categories. Second, after reading the article, I checked my primarily Evangelical library and easily found extended and very constructive discussions on natural-law theory and theology. And I would hazard a guess that the Evangelical theologian/ethicists that I checked out are at least as representative of the Protestant Evangelical community as are Charles' examples, if not more so. I have never heard of John Howard Yoder and, while recognizing that as a fault, it makes me think that he might not be as representative as Charles would like him to be. Combined with the spectrum of opinions that exist about the orthodoxy of both Barth and Hauerwas, or at least their continuity with general Protestant thought, these realities should give rise to significant skepticism about Charles' sample.
Norman Geisler, in the prolegomena to his 4-volume Systematic Theology, Carl F.H. Henry, throughout his 6-volume work, God, Revelation and Authority, and Scott Rae, in his introduction to ethics, Moral Choices, all give significant attention to natural-law theory and theology and the role it should have in thought, word and deed. A positive article on natural law is found in the very recent New Dictionary of Christian Apologetics, which was published by InterVarsity Press, an Evangelical publisher. This data simply does not align with Charles' negative portrayal of the place for natural law in Protestant thought.
But the purpose of my reflection is not to refute Charles' thesis or to defend the place of natural law in Protestant, namely Evangelical, thought. I want to use his example as a warning for all of us, especially myself. I think there is a genuine temptation for each of us to speak of things about which we know very little as if we knew a great deal about them. We may have read about some point of view or even a point of view as expressed by an actual proponent of it and make claims as though we were thoroughly acquainted with such a point of view. This is quite dangerous. Not only are we likely to speak falsely about the particular view, we may, depending on our company, lead others to think as falsely as we do. Another potential problem is that we will exaggerate our claim such that we attribute to a large group what is only the view of a portion, possibly a small portion, of the group. Please do not misunderstand me. I am not saying that Charles is not adequately acquainted with the development of natural law in Protestant thought. He is eminently more qualified to discuss the matter than I. Nor am I saying that we should never speak about anything until we know it thoroughly. My warning is that we should be honest in our conversations and careful in our speech so that we don't overstate our case, as I believe Charles has. Undoubtedly, some Protestants lack a proper theory and theology of natural law. But I think Charles has given into temptation when he says that many Protestants, especially Evangelicals, are remarkably united in opposition to natural law.
I know this warning may not sound particularly insightful or novel. It shouldn't. We should all be living this way. The problem is that we don't. I used to say a lot of things about Democrats because I didn't know very many. Now that all of my in-laws are Democrats, I don't say as much any more, or at least I don't speak as categorically. I want to close this entry with a very poor bit of advice that was once given to me by a pastor and give just the opposite. After a sermon that included a discussion of various world religions, I asked this pastor if he had read the Bhagavad-Gita, which I bought and was skimming after a trip to India. He said something like, "Eric, I don't read anything by unbelievers. I don't want to give time to the enemy. I read books by believers that tell me about unbelievers. That spares me a lot of effort." Don't do that. Rather, let us be diligent in our study, honest with our findings and careful in how we pass on that which we have had the privilege to learn. We may have to talk less and listen more but that may not be such a bad thing.
"[Protestants] are remarkably joined in their opposition to natural-law thinking."
"Many, Protestant Evangelicals in particular, presume that natural-law thinking fails to take seriously the condition of sin and places misguided trust in the powers of human reason debilitated by the Fall."
"Despite the cleavage between theological fundamentalists and progressives, objections to natural law have united most Protestants."
I was disturbed by Charles' general claims about Protestant objections to natural law, in spite of his initial caveats, for a number of reasons. First of all, during the more than 10 years I spent as a student in an Evangelical institution, I became adequately acquainted with natural-law theory and theology, and not primarily in negative categories. Second, after reading the article, I checked my primarily Evangelical library and easily found extended and very constructive discussions on natural-law theory and theology. And I would hazard a guess that the Evangelical theologian/ethicists that I checked out are at least as representative of the Protestant Evangelical community as are Charles' examples, if not more so. I have never heard of John Howard Yoder and, while recognizing that as a fault, it makes me think that he might not be as representative as Charles would like him to be. Combined with the spectrum of opinions that exist about the orthodoxy of both Barth and Hauerwas, or at least their continuity with general Protestant thought, these realities should give rise to significant skepticism about Charles' sample.
Norman Geisler, in the prolegomena to his 4-volume Systematic Theology, Carl F.H. Henry, throughout his 6-volume work, God, Revelation and Authority, and Scott Rae, in his introduction to ethics, Moral Choices, all give significant attention to natural-law theory and theology and the role it should have in thought, word and deed. A positive article on natural law is found in the very recent New Dictionary of Christian Apologetics, which was published by InterVarsity Press, an Evangelical publisher. This data simply does not align with Charles' negative portrayal of the place for natural law in Protestant thought.
But the purpose of my reflection is not to refute Charles' thesis or to defend the place of natural law in Protestant, namely Evangelical, thought. I want to use his example as a warning for all of us, especially myself. I think there is a genuine temptation for each of us to speak of things about which we know very little as if we knew a great deal about them. We may have read about some point of view or even a point of view as expressed by an actual proponent of it and make claims as though we were thoroughly acquainted with such a point of view. This is quite dangerous. Not only are we likely to speak falsely about the particular view, we may, depending on our company, lead others to think as falsely as we do. Another potential problem is that we will exaggerate our claim such that we attribute to a large group what is only the view of a portion, possibly a small portion, of the group. Please do not misunderstand me. I am not saying that Charles is not adequately acquainted with the development of natural law in Protestant thought. He is eminently more qualified to discuss the matter than I. Nor am I saying that we should never speak about anything until we know it thoroughly. My warning is that we should be honest in our conversations and careful in our speech so that we don't overstate our case, as I believe Charles has. Undoubtedly, some Protestants lack a proper theory and theology of natural law. But I think Charles has given into temptation when he says that many Protestants, especially Evangelicals, are remarkably united in opposition to natural law.
I know this warning may not sound particularly insightful or novel. It shouldn't. We should all be living this way. The problem is that we don't. I used to say a lot of things about Democrats because I didn't know very many. Now that all of my in-laws are Democrats, I don't say as much any more, or at least I don't speak as categorically. I want to close this entry with a very poor bit of advice that was once given to me by a pastor and give just the opposite. After a sermon that included a discussion of various world religions, I asked this pastor if he had read the Bhagavad-Gita, which I bought and was skimming after a trip to India. He said something like, "Eric, I don't read anything by unbelievers. I don't want to give time to the enemy. I read books by believers that tell me about unbelievers. That spares me a lot of effort." Don't do that. Rather, let us be diligent in our study, honest with our findings and careful in how we pass on that which we have had the privilege to learn. We may have to talk less and listen more but that may not be such a bad thing.
Monday, January 1, 2007
A New Year or Just Another Day?
During the course of yesterday's sermon, our pastor told the congregation that he had a secret to share with us. The secret was that tomorrow (i.e. today, January 1st) was nothing special. This secret, of course, was revealed during his message about what we should be reflecting on as the new year comes upon us. So, even though tomorrow, i.e. today, is nothing special, we should be reflecting on the fact that we, as believers, are of one spirit with God (I Corinthians 6:17) as we celebrate the new year. Nonetheless, the statement was clear: The incoming of the new year is nothing special.
Initially, I was in agreement with our pastor. I had been thinking the past few days that the entrance of the new year doesn't have any specific spiritual import. When we do things like make resolutions, we are simply trying to do things, or to stop doing things, that we should have stopped doing, or started doing, before now. Even our reflecting, if we are reflecting as Christians, is something that should be done much more frequently than once a year. I have thanked God countless times for the myriad of events and blessings that have occurred throughout this year — our 3rd anniversary, finishing language school, going back to America, the birth of our beautiful baby boy, a safe return to Ukraine — why does reflecting on them as this year ends and the next begins make it more appropriate or special?
But then, the new year arrived. My wife and I naturally reflected on the great things that 2006 brought us and how great a God we serve. And I began to think about what I could do differently this year to improve my moral and spiritual quality of life in the coming year. If I really believe that today is nothing special, why am I using it as a special time?
I don’t have a solution to this puzzle. I still ideally believe that today is nothing special but maybe that's just the thing. Ideally, today shouldn't be special. But I am far from ideal. It is because of my failure to adequately reflect on a regular basis and because of my failure to correct my bad attitudes and actions as they reveal themselves that I need a concrete event to mark change or a new beginning. I will try to adjust my schedule to allow more time for prayer and I will try to read through the Bible in a year, starting today. Ideally, I would have responded to my conscience and the convictions of the Holy Spirit to do these things 6 months ago, when I began to feel their weight. I didn't. So here I am, at the beginning of 2007, committing to act on those promptings. Is it because today is special? Yes and no. No, because it's just another day. January 1st is no more special than June 1st, if I would have responded then. But, yes, today is special because it is the day that I am choosing to act as I ought to act, choosing to strive toward the ideal, choosing to give myself more fully to God as I ought to have 6 months ago. In this way, the new year is quite special indeed. May the God Who promises to one day make the ideal a reality strengthen each of us this new year as we live for Him.
Happy 2007!
Initially, I was in agreement with our pastor. I had been thinking the past few days that the entrance of the new year doesn't have any specific spiritual import. When we do things like make resolutions, we are simply trying to do things, or to stop doing things, that we should have stopped doing, or started doing, before now. Even our reflecting, if we are reflecting as Christians, is something that should be done much more frequently than once a year. I have thanked God countless times for the myriad of events and blessings that have occurred throughout this year — our 3rd anniversary, finishing language school, going back to America, the birth of our beautiful baby boy, a safe return to Ukraine — why does reflecting on them as this year ends and the next begins make it more appropriate or special?
But then, the new year arrived. My wife and I naturally reflected on the great things that 2006 brought us and how great a God we serve. And I began to think about what I could do differently this year to improve my moral and spiritual quality of life in the coming year. If I really believe that today is nothing special, why am I using it as a special time?
I don’t have a solution to this puzzle. I still ideally believe that today is nothing special but maybe that's just the thing. Ideally, today shouldn't be special. But I am far from ideal. It is because of my failure to adequately reflect on a regular basis and because of my failure to correct my bad attitudes and actions as they reveal themselves that I need a concrete event to mark change or a new beginning. I will try to adjust my schedule to allow more time for prayer and I will try to read through the Bible in a year, starting today. Ideally, I would have responded to my conscience and the convictions of the Holy Spirit to do these things 6 months ago, when I began to feel their weight. I didn't. So here I am, at the beginning of 2007, committing to act on those promptings. Is it because today is special? Yes and no. No, because it's just another day. January 1st is no more special than June 1st, if I would have responded then. But, yes, today is special because it is the day that I am choosing to act as I ought to act, choosing to strive toward the ideal, choosing to give myself more fully to God as I ought to have 6 months ago. In this way, the new year is quite special indeed. May the God Who promises to one day make the ideal a reality strengthen each of us this new year as we live for Him.
Happy 2007!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
The Wonder of the Incarnation
As I sit here this Christmas Eve, listening to Handel's "Messiah," looking at our decorated and well-photographed Christmas tree, having wrapped my wife's presents in anticipation of tomorrow's gift giving after spending 4 hours at this morning and afternoon's Church festivities, I am struck by something not usually associated with the Christmas season. Maybe others are often struck by this particular truth, but something that happened today drew my attention to the equality that Christ enacted among His New Covenant people.
One of the few things that will bring a tear to my eye at our Church here in Kyiv is when the kids from the children's program — which is held a good 10-minute walk from our Church, and thus is rarely heard or seen — perform before the Church. It's not the cuteness of the dressed up 5-year-olds who can barely recite the lines to their poems or the way the shy 10-year-olds strain their voices to reach notes that their vocal cords aren't practiced enough to reach. These are universals for children's programs. What gets me is one girl in particular. I don't know her name and she may not even have a family member in our Church since our Church provides Sunday school services for about 30 kids whose families don't attend. This girl is unique because she has a severe speech handicap that is likely tied to some other handicap or paralysis. In spite of this handicap, the girl performs almost every time the children are in front of the Church. It moves me that even though she is almost incomprehensible — and in this particular situation, the problem is NOT my fluency level in Russian — she performs, everyone is overjoyed that she has performed, and God is glorified by this little one. The fact that no one, not even the other children, laughs at this girl and that she is proud enough of who she is as a child of God to praise Him in spite of her handicap, does something to my heart that I can't quite explain.
This morning, as the kids walked up the aisle to the front of the Church and were performing, I was worried. Try as I might, I couldn't see her. There were more kids than usual today, which is exciting, but I began to worry about why the girl wasn't there. Between songs, individual kids shared their poems and solos, but the end of the performance came and she hadn't done anything. I thought that maybe, during our time in America, she had stopped going to the Church for some reason or other. And my worry is that, outside of the Church, she will be treated quite badly, which is why I'm always so eager to see her when the kids perform. I don't want to even think about how the soul of this little girl could be crushed by the cruelty of this world. Just knowing that she is in our children's program, where she has a place to feel welcomed, loved and appreciated, reinforces the truth that in Christ handicap, social status, ethnicity and ability are not a factor. She is a child of God, redeemed by Jesus Christ and empowered by the Holy Spirit and she is highly valued in the Kingdom of God.
Imagine my relief when, as the children exited, I saw her walking down the aisle. Even though she didn't perform something individually, she was involved, and that is what ended up being so important to me and why I was so worried. While thinking about what was going on inside me this morning, why I was so worried and why this little girl's involvement is such a testimony to me of Kingdom equality, I realized that we wouldn't have such a value without the Incarnation. It would be nice to think that man could have developed such a value with time, even if Christ never came, however, the cultural and social values of Jesus' day and the resistance He met when He confronted those values, doesn't support such a positive assessment of humanity. So, as we celebrate our Lord's coming and the full grandeur of what His coming means, don't forget that part of that grandeur is the equality that allows someone like this little girl from a little Church in Kyiv — and by extension, every one of us — to be loved and included. Merry Christmas.
One of the few things that will bring a tear to my eye at our Church here in Kyiv is when the kids from the children's program — which is held a good 10-minute walk from our Church, and thus is rarely heard or seen — perform before the Church. It's not the cuteness of the dressed up 5-year-olds who can barely recite the lines to their poems or the way the shy 10-year-olds strain their voices to reach notes that their vocal cords aren't practiced enough to reach. These are universals for children's programs. What gets me is one girl in particular. I don't know her name and she may not even have a family member in our Church since our Church provides Sunday school services for about 30 kids whose families don't attend. This girl is unique because she has a severe speech handicap that is likely tied to some other handicap or paralysis. In spite of this handicap, the girl performs almost every time the children are in front of the Church. It moves me that even though she is almost incomprehensible — and in this particular situation, the problem is NOT my fluency level in Russian — she performs, everyone is overjoyed that she has performed, and God is glorified by this little one. The fact that no one, not even the other children, laughs at this girl and that she is proud enough of who she is as a child of God to praise Him in spite of her handicap, does something to my heart that I can't quite explain.
This morning, as the kids walked up the aisle to the front of the Church and were performing, I was worried. Try as I might, I couldn't see her. There were more kids than usual today, which is exciting, but I began to worry about why the girl wasn't there. Between songs, individual kids shared their poems and solos, but the end of the performance came and she hadn't done anything. I thought that maybe, during our time in America, she had stopped going to the Church for some reason or other. And my worry is that, outside of the Church, she will be treated quite badly, which is why I'm always so eager to see her when the kids perform. I don't want to even think about how the soul of this little girl could be crushed by the cruelty of this world. Just knowing that she is in our children's program, where she has a place to feel welcomed, loved and appreciated, reinforces the truth that in Christ handicap, social status, ethnicity and ability are not a factor. She is a child of God, redeemed by Jesus Christ and empowered by the Holy Spirit and she is highly valued in the Kingdom of God.
Imagine my relief when, as the children exited, I saw her walking down the aisle. Even though she didn't perform something individually, she was involved, and that is what ended up being so important to me and why I was so worried. While thinking about what was going on inside me this morning, why I was so worried and why this little girl's involvement is such a testimony to me of Kingdom equality, I realized that we wouldn't have such a value without the Incarnation. It would be nice to think that man could have developed such a value with time, even if Christ never came, however, the cultural and social values of Jesus' day and the resistance He met when He confronted those values, doesn't support such a positive assessment of humanity. So, as we celebrate our Lord's coming and the full grandeur of what His coming means, don't forget that part of that grandeur is the equality that allows someone like this little girl from a little Church in Kyiv — and by extension, every one of us — to be loved and included. Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Immediacy is an Illusion
So, I've been asked enough times that I guess I should explain why I've titled this blog the way I have. If you know me at all, you know that my greatest hero in the Faith is Dietrich Bonhoeffer. If you don't know me, you can see how much I respect the man by the fact that I named my son in honor of him. My relationship with Bonhoeffer began approximately 10 years ago, and my reverence for him only grows and never diminishes, even when I read things with which I disagree or with which I am uncomfortable. Those moments sharpen my critical-thinking skills (we should be thankful for anyone who makes us do that) and I am either reminded that no one thinks the same thing all the time or that even heroes can be wrong.
But Bonhoeffer is rarely wrong when he is talking about how radically Christ has changed His followers. Few authors in the history of the Church have been able to articulate as potently just how demanding is the Christian call to discipleship. And I think we need to be reminded often of the seriousness of that call. Thus, I took the occasion of my son's birth to reread the first Bonhoeffer book I ever read, Discipleship (popularly known as The Cost of Discipleship). The first time I read it, many of the more famous passages of the book stood out to me. The costly grace vs. cheap grace chapter and the ever-powerful line, "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die," captured me and entered me into the Bonhoeffer fan club and, more importantly, spurred me on to a deeper and more serious commitment to my Lord and Savior. This read, however, a different idea stood out to me. It had to do with what it really means for Jesus Christ to be our Mediator. And from here, I'll let the much more eloquent Bonhoeffer himself explain:
"It is true, there is something which comes between persons called by Christ and the given circumstances of their natural lives. But it is not someone unhappily contemptuous of life; it is not some law of piety. Instead, it is life and the Gospel itself; it is Christ Himself. In becoming human, He put Himself between me and the given circumstances of the world. I cannot go back. He is in the middle. He has deprived those whom He has called of every immediate connection to those given realities. He wants to be the Medium; everything should happen only through Him. He stands not only between me and God, He also stands between me and the world, between me and other people and things. He is the Mediator, not only between God and human persons, but also between person and person, and between person and reality. Because the whole world was created by Him and for Him (John 1:3; I Corinthians 8:6; Hebrews 1:20), He is the sole Mediator in the world. Since Christ there has been no more unmediated relationship for the human person, neither to God nor to the world. Christ intends to be the Mediator. … So people called by Jesus learn that they had lived an illusion in their relationship to the world. The illusion is immediacy. It has blocked faith and obedience. Now they know that there can be no unmediated relationships, even in the most intimate ties of their lives, in the blood ties to father and mother, to children, brothers and sisters, in marital love, in historical responsibilities. Ever since Jesus called, there are no longer natural, historical, or experiential unmediated relationships for His disciples. Christ the Mediator stands between son and father, between husband and wife, between individual and nation, whether they can recognize Him or not. There is no way from us to others than the path through Christ, His Word, and our following Him. Immediacy is a delusion." (pp. 93-95)
As you can see, I've tweaked Bonhoeffer's words a little for the blog title, but the paraphrase sums up just how striking a concept it really is. Every relationship we have, EVERY relationship, is mediated by Jesus Christ. Thus, any immediacy we think we have with someone or something else is an illusion — completely earth shattering! I'll be the first to admit how very infrequently I pay attention to this truth or live out the consequences of it. But my inabilities don’t make it any less true. And the more I pay attention to this reality, the more I will grow in my relationship with my Mediator, the better I will understand Him and the higher He will be exalted by me. I want my life to be as reflective of the fact that Christ is my Mediator and that immediacy is an illusion as was Bonhoeffer's. Naming a blog may not be a big step toward reaching that goal, but it will remind me of that goal every time I log on.
If you haven’t read Discipleship, read the standard Simon & Schuster edition (titled, The Cost of Discipleship). If you have read a standard translation, I recommend trying the Fortress Press, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works edition. It will not only give you new perspective on what you've read before, it will give you a better understanding of what Bonhoeffer actually wrote in German. The standard translations are quite loose. The Fortress Press edition strives for a better balance between the dynamic and the literal. The above quote is from the Fortress Press edition.
But Bonhoeffer is rarely wrong when he is talking about how radically Christ has changed His followers. Few authors in the history of the Church have been able to articulate as potently just how demanding is the Christian call to discipleship. And I think we need to be reminded often of the seriousness of that call. Thus, I took the occasion of my son's birth to reread the first Bonhoeffer book I ever read, Discipleship (popularly known as The Cost of Discipleship). The first time I read it, many of the more famous passages of the book stood out to me. The costly grace vs. cheap grace chapter and the ever-powerful line, "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die," captured me and entered me into the Bonhoeffer fan club and, more importantly, spurred me on to a deeper and more serious commitment to my Lord and Savior. This read, however, a different idea stood out to me. It had to do with what it really means for Jesus Christ to be our Mediator. And from here, I'll let the much more eloquent Bonhoeffer himself explain:
"It is true, there is something which comes between persons called by Christ and the given circumstances of their natural lives. But it is not someone unhappily contemptuous of life; it is not some law of piety. Instead, it is life and the Gospel itself; it is Christ Himself. In becoming human, He put Himself between me and the given circumstances of the world. I cannot go back. He is in the middle. He has deprived those whom He has called of every immediate connection to those given realities. He wants to be the Medium; everything should happen only through Him. He stands not only between me and God, He also stands between me and the world, between me and other people and things. He is the Mediator, not only between God and human persons, but also between person and person, and between person and reality. Because the whole world was created by Him and for Him (John 1:3; I Corinthians 8:6; Hebrews 1:20), He is the sole Mediator in the world. Since Christ there has been no more unmediated relationship for the human person, neither to God nor to the world. Christ intends to be the Mediator. … So people called by Jesus learn that they had lived an illusion in their relationship to the world. The illusion is immediacy. It has blocked faith and obedience. Now they know that there can be no unmediated relationships, even in the most intimate ties of their lives, in the blood ties to father and mother, to children, brothers and sisters, in marital love, in historical responsibilities. Ever since Jesus called, there are no longer natural, historical, or experiential unmediated relationships for His disciples. Christ the Mediator stands between son and father, between husband and wife, between individual and nation, whether they can recognize Him or not. There is no way from us to others than the path through Christ, His Word, and our following Him. Immediacy is a delusion." (pp. 93-95)
As you can see, I've tweaked Bonhoeffer's words a little for the blog title, but the paraphrase sums up just how striking a concept it really is. Every relationship we have, EVERY relationship, is mediated by Jesus Christ. Thus, any immediacy we think we have with someone or something else is an illusion — completely earth shattering! I'll be the first to admit how very infrequently I pay attention to this truth or live out the consequences of it. But my inabilities don’t make it any less true. And the more I pay attention to this reality, the more I will grow in my relationship with my Mediator, the better I will understand Him and the higher He will be exalted by me. I want my life to be as reflective of the fact that Christ is my Mediator and that immediacy is an illusion as was Bonhoeffer's. Naming a blog may not be a big step toward reaching that goal, but it will remind me of that goal every time I log on.
If you haven’t read Discipleship, read the standard Simon & Schuster edition (titled, The Cost of Discipleship). If you have read a standard translation, I recommend trying the Fortress Press, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works edition. It will not only give you new perspective on what you've read before, it will give you a better understanding of what Bonhoeffer actually wrote in German. The standard translations are quite loose. The Fortress Press edition strives for a better balance between the dynamic and the literal. The above quote is from the Fortress Press edition.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Can I Know That I Know What I Know?
Later this week I will participate in a theological discussion group that will entertain certain issues in epistemology (the study of how we attain knowledge). I am definitely interested in such a discussion but I must admit, I'm a little confused about how to formulate any thoughts about this particular subject (hmmm, that's a tad ironic). It would help if I was trained in philosophy or had read more widely in this area. As it stands however, I am an amateur philosopher, if that, with very little competence in epistemological theory. Not a promising start.
But my concept of epistemological truth is fairly simple and I'm wondering why there is such conflict about its nature and just where that conflict lies.
I'll start with a few definitions, acknowledging that it is possible that the conflict revolves around these very definitions. Even if it does, I propose that these simple definitions are accepted by almost everyone, or at least that people fairly consistently live according to them:
Reality: Everything that actually exists and the actual interrelations between existing things.
Truth: Concepts and propositions that correspond to reality.
Belief: Propositions that I think are true, whose reality are sure enough that I place my trust in them.
Knowledge: Beliefs that are actually true and that I have legitimate justification for believing.
Certainty: The level of confidence with which I hold beliefs and with which I have knowledge.
My basic epistemological premise is that each of us, everyday, live our lives according to our beliefs and/or our knowledge. We acquire our beliefs and gain our knowledge by our varying experiences of reality. From these experiences — and they can be as varied as personal interaction with another being or thing, reading a book that contains truth, or our reflection on our own emotions and mental states — we accumulate evidence and justification for the things we believe and know. Our level of certainty about our beliefs and about the knowledge we possess grows and/or diminishes depending on whether our beliefs and knowledge are confirmed or negated by these varying experiences with reality. And, our beliefs and our knowledge are actually true when they, in fact, accurately describe reality.
I think this is all fairly straightforward, however, this premise is hotly debated in academia, especially when it comes to religious realities. For some reason, both the modern and the postmodern mind seem to think that we cannot have genuine knowledge of anything religious. The modern mind thinks that we cannot know the religious because it either doesn't exist or because we cannot reach adequate certainty regarding our knowledge of it, if it does exist. The postmodern mind thinks that we cannot claim to have genuine knowledge of religious reality because we cannot have genuine knowledge of anything or because there is no legitimate way to adjudicate between all the linguistic and/or cultural contradictions between various religious claims. In my limited understanding of the epistemological scene, this is where the conflict lies.
Why do I not see epistemological conflict where the modern and postmodern do? Simply, I think it is because the modern and postmodern fail to apply the basic epistemological theories, which they live out every day, to the religious question. In day-to-day life, we use different methods of evaluating our experiences that correspond to particular situations. When I go to the store to buy the sturdiest bookshelf for my books, I apply a different set of criteria than when I try to discover what we really know about the life and times of Jesus Christ. And I use a still different set of criteria when I evaluate the spiritual interaction that I have with Jesus Christ, as a person, in order to gain knowledge about that relationship. I think that, generally, the modern mind applies scientific, empirical criteria to religious questions and then rejects religion as either non-existent or not a genuine sphere of religious knowledge because it applies the wrong criteria to that particular question. And I think that, generally, the postmodern mind overskeptically rejects religion as a genuine sphere of knowledge because, in reaction to modernism, postmodern thinkers have rejected almost all, if not all, spheres of knowledge. But the postmodern does not live that way. He would still do most of the same things that I would do when going to the store to buy the sturdiest bookshelf for his books and, when we both buy the same bookshelf, we will have both attained genuine knowledge (and a good bookshelf). That we cannot apply legitimate criteria to achieve genuine knowledge about religious reality seems like a choice made so as to avoid that particular question altogether.
I'm not saying that attaining religious knowledge is easy or that we can have absolute certainty regarding all of our religious beliefs and knowledge. It is easier to formulate the belief that I have food poisoning right now, and to certify it as knowledge, than it is to know if and how the Holy Spirit is working within me (and I have to apply completely different criteria). And I currently have much more empirical certainty about the former than the latter. What I am saying is that there are legitimate methods for attaining justified knowledge of our religious beliefs, and that we should practice those methods when it comes to formulating, investigating and certifying such beliefs and knowledge. In this way we can definitely know that we know what we know.
For more on this, read the Ravi Zacharias International Ministries booklet by James Beilby & David K. Clark, Why Bother with Truth? Arriving at Knowledge in a Skeptical Society.
But my concept of epistemological truth is fairly simple and I'm wondering why there is such conflict about its nature and just where that conflict lies.
I'll start with a few definitions, acknowledging that it is possible that the conflict revolves around these very definitions. Even if it does, I propose that these simple definitions are accepted by almost everyone, or at least that people fairly consistently live according to them:
Reality: Everything that actually exists and the actual interrelations between existing things.
Truth: Concepts and propositions that correspond to reality.
Belief: Propositions that I think are true, whose reality are sure enough that I place my trust in them.
Knowledge: Beliefs that are actually true and that I have legitimate justification for believing.
Certainty: The level of confidence with which I hold beliefs and with which I have knowledge.
My basic epistemological premise is that each of us, everyday, live our lives according to our beliefs and/or our knowledge. We acquire our beliefs and gain our knowledge by our varying experiences of reality. From these experiences — and they can be as varied as personal interaction with another being or thing, reading a book that contains truth, or our reflection on our own emotions and mental states — we accumulate evidence and justification for the things we believe and know. Our level of certainty about our beliefs and about the knowledge we possess grows and/or diminishes depending on whether our beliefs and knowledge are confirmed or negated by these varying experiences with reality. And, our beliefs and our knowledge are actually true when they, in fact, accurately describe reality.
I think this is all fairly straightforward, however, this premise is hotly debated in academia, especially when it comes to religious realities. For some reason, both the modern and the postmodern mind seem to think that we cannot have genuine knowledge of anything religious. The modern mind thinks that we cannot know the religious because it either doesn't exist or because we cannot reach adequate certainty regarding our knowledge of it, if it does exist. The postmodern mind thinks that we cannot claim to have genuine knowledge of religious reality because we cannot have genuine knowledge of anything or because there is no legitimate way to adjudicate between all the linguistic and/or cultural contradictions between various religious claims. In my limited understanding of the epistemological scene, this is where the conflict lies.
Why do I not see epistemological conflict where the modern and postmodern do? Simply, I think it is because the modern and postmodern fail to apply the basic epistemological theories, which they live out every day, to the religious question. In day-to-day life, we use different methods of evaluating our experiences that correspond to particular situations. When I go to the store to buy the sturdiest bookshelf for my books, I apply a different set of criteria than when I try to discover what we really know about the life and times of Jesus Christ. And I use a still different set of criteria when I evaluate the spiritual interaction that I have with Jesus Christ, as a person, in order to gain knowledge about that relationship. I think that, generally, the modern mind applies scientific, empirical criteria to religious questions and then rejects religion as either non-existent or not a genuine sphere of religious knowledge because it applies the wrong criteria to that particular question. And I think that, generally, the postmodern mind overskeptically rejects religion as a genuine sphere of knowledge because, in reaction to modernism, postmodern thinkers have rejected almost all, if not all, spheres of knowledge. But the postmodern does not live that way. He would still do most of the same things that I would do when going to the store to buy the sturdiest bookshelf for his books and, when we both buy the same bookshelf, we will have both attained genuine knowledge (and a good bookshelf). That we cannot apply legitimate criteria to achieve genuine knowledge about religious reality seems like a choice made so as to avoid that particular question altogether.
I'm not saying that attaining religious knowledge is easy or that we can have absolute certainty regarding all of our religious beliefs and knowledge. It is easier to formulate the belief that I have food poisoning right now, and to certify it as knowledge, than it is to know if and how the Holy Spirit is working within me (and I have to apply completely different criteria). And I currently have much more empirical certainty about the former than the latter. What I am saying is that there are legitimate methods for attaining justified knowledge of our religious beliefs, and that we should practice those methods when it comes to formulating, investigating and certifying such beliefs and knowledge. In this way we can definitely know that we know what we know.
For more on this, read the Ravi Zacharias International Ministries booklet by James Beilby & David K. Clark, Why Bother with Truth? Arriving at Knowledge in a Skeptical Society.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Forgetting the 'Judeo' in our Judeo-Christian Worldview
I just finished reading Thomas Cahill's excellent work, The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. I feel simultaneously invigorated and humbled. Invigorated with the sense that one should have after finishing any good book, especially one that helps you better understand God, yourself and your place in His world. Humbled because of how it took Cahill, a non-evangelical and possibly a non-Christian — with quite a skeptical view of Scripture — to remind me of how indebted I am to my Jewish heritage. Being a Gentile, I obviously am not referring to ethnic heritage but to spiritual heritage.
Of course, without the Old Testament there would be no New Testament. The exclusive people of Israel came before the inclusive Church and, as Jesus Himself proclaims, "salvation is from the Jews" (John 4:22). But exploring the Jewish roots of Christianity is not Cahill's thesis. In a way, such a thesis is too mild for Cahill. Rather, Cahill explains how the foundations of Western civilization and thought would not be possible without the experience of an unassuming group of Semitic wanderers and the gradual expression of their experience as recorded in the Bible. Without this unique and unlikely change in culture and lifestyle brought about by Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David and the rest of our Old Testament heroes, we would still be stuck in the cyclical and meaningless worldview of the ancient Sumerians. I'll let Cahill speak for himself:
"The Jews gave us a whole new vocabulary, a whole new Temple of the Spirit, an inner landscape of ideas and feelings that had never been known before. Over many centuries of trauma and suffering they came to believe in one God, the Creator of the universe, whose meaning underlies all his creation and who enters human history to bring his purposes to pass. Because of their unique belief—monotheism—the Jews were able to give us the Great Whole, a unified universe that makes sense and that, because of its evident superiority as a worldview, completely overwhelms the warring and contradictory phenomena of polytheism. … The Jews gave us the Outside and the Inside—our outlook and our inner life. We can hardly get up in the morning or cross the street without being Jewish. We dream Jewish dreams and hope Jewish hopes. Most of our best words, in fact—new, adventure, surprise; unique, individual, person, vocation; time, history, future; freedom, progress, spirit; faith, hope, justice—are the gifts of the Jews." (pp. 239-241)
It is one thing to read the Old Testament and see how God reveals Himself there. His creative activity, His love for Israel and His promise of redemption, teach us about Who God is. But it is another thing altogether to realize the distinctiveness of the Old Testament in light of the prevailing culture and worldview of ancient times. What God did in and through Abraham and his descendents changed the entire world, and life today — for you and for me — would not be what it is without this essential change. Humbling and invigorating.
Unfortunately, I would be negatively categorized by Cahill as a "fundamentalist" and a "biblical literalist" since I disagree with him when he says, "it is no longer possible to believe that every word of the Bible was inspired by God" (p. 245). That doesn't mean, however, that I can't thank him for his wonderful literary contribution and highly recommend his work to anyone who wants a bigger, better view of God and how He has so radically and graciously acted to redeem mankind.
Of course, without the Old Testament there would be no New Testament. The exclusive people of Israel came before the inclusive Church and, as Jesus Himself proclaims, "salvation is from the Jews" (John 4:22). But exploring the Jewish roots of Christianity is not Cahill's thesis. In a way, such a thesis is too mild for Cahill. Rather, Cahill explains how the foundations of Western civilization and thought would not be possible without the experience of an unassuming group of Semitic wanderers and the gradual expression of their experience as recorded in the Bible. Without this unique and unlikely change in culture and lifestyle brought about by Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David and the rest of our Old Testament heroes, we would still be stuck in the cyclical and meaningless worldview of the ancient Sumerians. I'll let Cahill speak for himself:
"The Jews gave us a whole new vocabulary, a whole new Temple of the Spirit, an inner landscape of ideas and feelings that had never been known before. Over many centuries of trauma and suffering they came to believe in one God, the Creator of the universe, whose meaning underlies all his creation and who enters human history to bring his purposes to pass. Because of their unique belief—monotheism—the Jews were able to give us the Great Whole, a unified universe that makes sense and that, because of its evident superiority as a worldview, completely overwhelms the warring and contradictory phenomena of polytheism. … The Jews gave us the Outside and the Inside—our outlook and our inner life. We can hardly get up in the morning or cross the street without being Jewish. We dream Jewish dreams and hope Jewish hopes. Most of our best words, in fact—new, adventure, surprise; unique, individual, person, vocation; time, history, future; freedom, progress, spirit; faith, hope, justice—are the gifts of the Jews." (pp. 239-241)
It is one thing to read the Old Testament and see how God reveals Himself there. His creative activity, His love for Israel and His promise of redemption, teach us about Who God is. But it is another thing altogether to realize the distinctiveness of the Old Testament in light of the prevailing culture and worldview of ancient times. What God did in and through Abraham and his descendents changed the entire world, and life today — for you and for me — would not be what it is without this essential change. Humbling and invigorating.
Unfortunately, I would be negatively categorized by Cahill as a "fundamentalist" and a "biblical literalist" since I disagree with him when he says, "it is no longer possible to believe that every word of the Bible was inspired by God" (p. 245). That doesn't mean, however, that I can't thank him for his wonderful literary contribution and highly recommend his work to anyone who wants a bigger, better view of God and how He has so radically and graciously acted to redeem mankind.
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