Month: November 2004

Following is a comment I posted on a thread at The Ooze concerning whether “postmodern Christian” is an oxymoron:

It seems to me that people on either side of this question usually are talking past each other because of different definitions of “postmodern.” Most conservative Christians who take the “no postmodern Christianity” line define “postmodern” as meaning a rejection of the concept of objective Truth coupled with a rejection of the concept of objective authority. With that understanding, they are correct. If you reject any notion of Truth existing outside your own perceptions, and you reject any notion of authority existing outside that which you create for yourself through your own perceptions, then you cannot say “Jesus is Lord.” If we glean nothing else from the Christian story as expressed in scripture, it must at least be that “Jesus is Lord” in a real way that doesn’t depend on whether I perceive or believe him to be Lord.

I gather that most in the emerging conversation wouldn’t accept that limited a definition of “postmodern.” It seems to me that in “A New Kind of Christian,” for example, McLaren uses “postmodern” to mean mostly a set of cultural attitudes — a skepticism towards sweeping “Truth” and “Authority” claims rooted in a strong sense of the limitations of human perception. With this definition, clearly one can be a “postmodern Christian.” Indeed, one could argue that “postmodern Christianity” in this sense is not something radically new, but rather represents an outgrowth of trends from the Protestant Reformation, Romanticism, German Higher Criticism, the Great Awakenings, and Evangelical reactions to Fundamentalism.

I suppose there are also many shades of meaning to “postmodern” between these two poles. In part because of this definitional confusion, I think I’m starting to lean toward the term “postcolonial” that some have started using. For me at least, much of the struggle is to examine the cultural assumptions that pervade my faith as an American Evangelical, without taking the extreme view that “faith” is nothing more than “culture.”

The New York Times today carries a fascinating article about a recently rediscovered Vivaldi work called Andromeda. The work was located by a violinist in an old Venetian orphanage where Vivaldi worked as a music teacher.

The violinist is an amatuer Vivaldi scholar, and developed some traditional evidence for the provenance of the manuscript. However, some of his most compelling evidence is the “feel” of the piece under his fingers as he plays through it. Having played and performed Vivaldi works many times, this violinist believes he has an intuitive sense for how Vivaldi pieces play.

Some traditional music scholars disagree. In particular, a leading academic Vivaldi scholar believes the work is an amalgam that contains only a very small contribution from Vivaldi. Perhaps not coincidentally, this same scholar had a copy of the same manuscript in his possession years before, and had summarily dismissed it.

The New York Times writer describes his own visit to the Venetian orphanage’s archives. Over two hundred years ago, the orhpanage was brimming with infants who had been left by abandoned mothers. Many mothers would leave broken pieces of religious pin-medallions with the babies, in the hope that they could some day reclaim their child with the matching half of the medallion. The Times writer had examined some of these medal pieces, and sensed the desperation of the mothers who left them, never to reclaim their child. He writes:

There are issues only scholarship can settle. But the boundaries of our knowledge are still limited enough to leave us mired in guesswork. And while scholars speak their guesses in the voice of reason, there’s something to be said for hte interpretive force of hands-on-experience: for the touch of a 200-year-old pin or the feel of a violinist’s fingers.

A lovely illustration, I think, of the limits of “objective” propositions, and the need for other ways of knowing to flesh out the Truth.

In an earlier post, expressing some frustration with the state of evangelicalism, I asked where to find the “real thing.” This morning I was humbled to receive an e-mail concerning some family acquaintances who had serious trouble with the birth of their new baby. The mother nearly died and the baby was born prematurely. In the e-mail, these folks were expressing heartfelt thanks to many people who had been praying for them, sending flowers, and offering assistance, including their friends, friends of friends, and others who hardly knew them. This, it struck me, is the “real thing.” It’s not so much the recovery the mom and baby are making — although that seems to be remarkable and perhaps even “miraculous” in a sense — it’s the way the Christian community, the Church with a capital “C”, rallied to their side.

If you’ve ever experienced that kind of love in a time of personal crisis — and I have, in a major health crisis of my own a few years ago — and if you’ve ever seen and felt God work to bring blessing through such a time — and I have — you know that all the problems and shortcomings of your local church (with a small “c”) and all of our theological debates pale in significance. That’s the “real thing.”

I need to point out an outstanding post by David Wayne regarding the intersection between systematic and Biblical theology, and the relationship of those ways of doing theology to other ways of reading the text. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a wonderfully concise yet comprehensive summary of the landscape.

I don’t have time to dig too far into it now, but there’s an interesting point of contact here with some “emerging” ways of reading the text. In Beyond Foundationalism, for example, Grenz and Franke note that the emphasis on systematic theology had a paradoxical result:

In effect, the scholastic theological agenda meant that the ongoing task of readining the Bible as text was superceded by the publication of the skilled theologian’s magnum opus. If the goal of theological inquiry was to extrapolate the sytem of propositions the divine Communicator had inscripturated in the pages of the text, it would seem that systematic theology could — and eventually would — make the Bible superflous.

One of Grenz and Franke’s concerns in developing a post-foundationalist theology is to recognize the “second order” nature of systematic theology and even, I think, of Biblical theology. In other words, theological propositions that we derive from the text are not precisely the same thing as the Spirit speaking to the Church through the text, which is the first order of communication.

On the other hand, it seems to me that many “emergent” folks go beyond this recognition of the proper role of systematics in seeking to dismiss propositional statements altogether. The fact that systematic propositional statements are “second order” doesn’t mean they’re untrue or lacking in value. It simply means they’re subject to reevaluation as human statements about the divine first order Truth.

Today is my 38th birthday. To celebrate, I thought I’d create a list of things that didn’t exist, or at least weren’t pervasive, when I was 28, 18 and 8. I’ve tried to focus on some things that are basic to daily life, and to show the evolution of those things through these decades. It’s amazing to see how much our daily lives have changed over these decades. My oldest child, Abbey, is 9, and I wonder what the list will look like when she’s 39. Read on to the extended entry for the list. And check back from time to time — hopefully I’ll add to it over the next few days.

I was helping my 9-year-old daughter do math tonight. Here is one of her word problems; the purpose of these problems isn’t to find a solution, but to explain why the logic is correct or incorrect:

Dan tells Matt, “If you add something to anything, you get more of it.” “Ok,” Matt says, “I’m digging a hole in the dirt. Add some more dirt and let’s see if we get a bigger hole.”

I had to laugh out loud at this one. Kind of The Zen of Math.

A thoughtful entry by Justin Baeder at Radical Congruency sums up some of my own thoughts about Evangelicalism. I’m an Evangelical to the core — grew up in Evangelical churches, youth group President, evangelical college (Gordon College), young adult group leader, promise keeper, elder, worship leader, etc., etc. I couldn’t leave Evangelicalism behind even if I wanted to, not only because it’s in my blood, but also because there aren’t other viable local church communities in which I’d want to raise my own kids (got three of ’em). And by and large I think the broad outlines of Evangelical theology are good.

And yet, and yet, and yet, I’m so very weary of Evangelicalism. I’m weary of our constipated little culture, the way we talk to each other in code words (“that sermon was such a blessing, wasn’t it?), the way we shy away from hard questions and harsh realities of life beyond our suburban gardens. I’m weary of the silly love songs to Jesus on the local Christian radio station and the skate punks wearing “turn or burn” t-shirts at the local Christian skate park. I’m weary of placing everyone in neat categories — “saved or unsaved,” “walking with the Lord or worldly”. I’m weary of fighting with folks who are supposed to be my brothers and sisters about things that seem glaringly self-evident to me (no, “science” does not equal “heresy”, “conservative” does not equal “godly”, and there really is no such thing as a “Christian nation.”) I’m weary of our ignorance of our own history, of the absurd perception that we’ve finally in the last 50 years or so straightened out all the doctrinal questions of the Church’s first 2000 years and now have it all just right. I’m weary of “Left Behind” books and seeing Jim Dobson sputtering on Larry King Live about how the nation’s going down the toilet and reading ridiculous quotes in the Times from Bible study groups that were praying for George Bush’s reelection.

Where are the cries for mercy and justice? Where is the revulsion at the violence of war? Where is the truth spoken humbly in love? Where is the seeking, the striving, the acceptance of ambiguity and uncertainty because of, not in spite of, faith? I don’t want another “movement.” I don’t want to throw out the faith thinking I might save it. I want the real thing. Where is it?

Another Man’s Meat tells and interesting and probably sadly typical story about the difficulty Christians sometimes face when discussing political views outside the “conservative” mainstream. Jollyblogger picks up the thread and also has a somewhat related post regarding the return of the “Moral Majority.” I can add a story of my own: I learned of a “political action” committee in a local church recently, and was discussing the purpose and goals of the committee with one of its founders. She seemed utterly baffled at some of my questions, such as whether it’s really worthwhile to spend large amounts of energy getting Arlen Spector taken off the Judiciary Committee, and why so few Evangelicals seem concerned with the human cost of the Iraq War. I was trying my best not to wear my law professor hat, but she seemed unable to articulate any serious policy reasons for her positions. It was really disturbing, almost creepy in a way — like some kind of group think was making her unable to see merit in any political position other than those she had been fed by Concerned Women for America or James Dobson.

So, I’m very glad to hear from some moderating voices here in the blogsphere. Perhaps we can begin a move towards a “third way” in Evangelical thinking about public policy. Perhaps we can be more consistently “pro life” — as deeply concerned about the effects of poverty and war as we are about banning abortion. Perhaps we can be more consistent advocates of the role of morality in our public policy — as deeply concerned about the regulatory capture and economic and social inequity as we are about same sex marriage. Perhaps we can become not “conservatives,” “liberals,” or even “moderates,” but rather followers of Jesus who humbly yet honestly seek to be redeeming influences in a broken world — “servants” rather than a “majority”; a “Church” advancing against the gates of Hell rather than a “Christian Coalition” pressing for political advantage; the people of God, confident of the coming fullness of His Kingdom, patiently and faithfully awaiting our Lord’s return, rather than another interest group scrambling for “rights” and influence.

Thanks to David Mobley for some good comments on my prior inerrancy post. Having done a bit more reading today, I think I might amend my definition a bit to something more precise, as stated in Millard Erickson’s Christian Theology. Erickson defines inerrancy as follows:

“The Bible, when correctly interpreted in light of the level to which culture and the means of communication had developed at the time it was written, and in view of the purposes for which it was given, is fully truthful in all that it affirms.”

Erickson fleshes out this definition with some important principles, among them that the text’s cultural setting, the purposes for which the text was written, and the pervasive use of phenomenological language to report scientific matters and historical events means that we should not impose modern expectations of precision on the text. Without these caveats, I’m not so comfortable saying the Bible is without error in all that it “affirms”; with them, I am.