Michael Bird offers a great post about whether N.T. Wright’s views on justification are encouraging protestants to become Catholic. Bird’s summary of the varieties of difference on something even as important as the doctrine of justification is enlightening:
Part of the problem is that some folks want to reduce the debate to “Geneva” versus “Rome” as if they are the only two games in town: they are not! For a start, there is a lot of diversity among the residents of Geneva. The Westminster and Augsburg confessions disagree on what is imputed, Melanchthon and Luther disagreed on whether good works are necessary for salvation, John Calvin was also able to hold together justification and sanctification through union with Christ in a unique way, Martin Bucer held to a two-fold imputation for the impious and the pious, the Puritans weren’t exactly monolithic on justification either as a comparison of Richard Baxter and John Owen shows, I think it was George Joye (like Ambrosiaster from the Church Fathers) who saw God’s righteousness as his faithfulness rather than as a righteousness imputed from God, etc. Then look at Rome. Yes, we have Trent that was reactive and heavy-handed, and therefore, given to a theology born out of polemics. But read some modern Catholic commentators like Joseph Fitzmyer and I remain confused as to how his Romans commentary which is sooo protestantesque in places was ever granted nihil obstat. D.A. Carson tells a story of how he asked Joseph Fitzmyer what did he believe: his Romans commentary or the 1993 catechism which is solidly tridentine when it came to justification? Then there’s a guy like Scott Hahn who is a better and more consistent covenant theologian than some Presbyterians I know. Then what about the Barthians who have a more christocentric approach to the matter that is speaking a different language altogether? Hans Kung saw in Karl Barth a bridge between Protestants and Rome. Not forgetting the post-Bultmann Lutherans like Ernst Kasemann and Peter Stuhlmacher who don’t fit neatly into any precise camp with their view of justification as transformative in the sense of God both declaring and making the sinners righteous. Then go east young man with the Orthodox theologians who can integrate justification closely to their leitmotif of theosis. Now suddenly the multiple-choice theology of Geneva or Rome seems highly simplistic doesn’t it? Wright’s critique of Reformed interpretation, overstated and full of generalization I often find it!, can only cause folk to go to Rome if they are caught in this Geneva or Rome dichotomy. In other words, if you ingrain into people that Geneva (or one suburb of Geneva) and Rome (= Trent) are the only two options, once they question some of their Reformed heritage, you haven’t left them with any other option.
I personally don’t have a dog in the “New Perspective” fight. I wish I had time to study it, but I don’t. But what this highlights for me — and I’m not really sure this is exactly what Bird intended — is the limited and contextual nature of all theological speech.
Here is a fascinating report by Bruce Waltke about attitudes among evangelical theologians to biological evolution. As Waltke reports, there does not appear to be a “typical” view among evangelical theologians — many are willing to accept evolutionary science in whole or in part. The report was prepared in connection with an upcoming conference sponsored by the Biologos Foundation that will involve key evangelical leaders.
My wife and I took our youngest son to see Where the Wild Things Are last week. I loved this movie. My wife didn’t like it. My son, who is non-verbal, only enjoyed parts of it.
For me, Spike Jonze captured the inner life of the introspective child beautifully. The starkness of the landscape around the monsters’ home — the somewhat gloomy forest, the jagged surf-pounded cliffs, the sepia shoreline –reflects the interior emotional ecosystem of the introvert: rough, severe, yet often beautiful in its wildness. With the “monster” characters themselves, Jonze and his actors vividly capture how the boy Max’s anxieties project into adulthood.
Introspective children grow into introspective adults. Each of the monsters is a piece of the boy who will grow into the boyish man. James Gandolfini’s characterization of the monster Carol simmers with the confusion, anger, and subdued bafflement of every man who has ever awoken to the sudden realization that his youth is truly, finally, and irrevocably over. “Why are things working out this way? This isn’t what I was promised!,” Carol seems to say, though he doesn’t so much say it as show it through his pleading voice. Despite Max’s promises, there is nothing Max can do to make it all better. He can only offer hope and a new perspective for a short while.
At the end of the film, Max leaves the monsters behind on the island, and sails back home to the warm embrace of his mother, who is his only family. It’s tempting to think that Max will remain in his mother’s embrace forever, that he will never return to the monsters, or if he does return, that the monsters will have sorted everything out so that nothing is left but the rumpus. I’m not so sure. I think Max will travel between home and the monsters for the rest of his life.