Christianity

Book Review: “What Hath Darwin to do with Scripture?” by Dru Johnson- A breath of fresh air in the science-Christianity discussion

What Hath Darwin to do with Scripture? is a rarity in an overflowing market of books on Christianity and science. It brings something that feels fresh and new to the table. Having read it, I find myself sitting back and reflecting on the book, and wanting to discuss and share it with others. The first chapter puts the book’s thesis in perspective: “This is not the Creation-Evolution Debate You’re Looking For” (3). Indeed, it goes far beyond other works I’ve seen focused on interpretation of Scripture and evolution.

Dru Johnson’s work here presents a look not at debates about individualized texts and whether they can be reconciled with evolution. Instead, Johnson focuses on the conceptual worlds of evolution and the Bible to see if there is any overlap or conflict. Thus, instead of offering a text-by-text approach and asking whether this text over here precludes evolution or this one here hints at natural selection, he looks at overarching themes and stories in Scripture and how those might resonate (or not) with evolution. More specifically, Johnson argues the question shouldn’t be on pitting origin stories right next to each other in a verse-by-verse or thesis-by-thesis throwdown; instead, looking at how origin stories conceive of the world presents a more “apples to apples” approach (18-20).

There are three main themes Johnson focuses on in order to make comparisons between conceptual worlds. These themes are “scarcity,” “fit,” and “generation.”

“Scarcity” is clearly part of the Darwinian thesis and later evolutionary theory (25ff), and is often linked to violence. Johnson explores how the Bible also approaches language about scarcity and how it is also approached through violence at times (54ff). One aspect of his exploration is to point out that we have a skewed view of agrarian society and this entails a misunderstanding of the earliest parts of Genesis with its focus upon a life free of scarcity and threats emerging from the same (51ff, 56-57). The theme of scarcity doesn’t stay in Genesis, but can be found throughout the OT narratives and extends into the NT visions of a New Kingdom (83-84). The God-creation relation and covenants involved therein found in the Bible present, for Johnson, some of the places that it may be most at odds with evolutionary thinking (90). While this is the case, Johnson argues that biblical concepts related to scarcity have some resonance with evolutionary conceptualization of the world.

One of the most fascinating sections in the book is less about evolution than it is about the development of languages. In a lengthy section on the “fit” of people and creatures to their habitats, Johnson delves into the way that experts in linguistics have shown that the very geography of peoples’ regions shapes their language–complicated, high pitched noises being shouted through a rainforest, for example, doesn’t work as well as simple “e” or “a” sound. Differences between sounds used in languages can be identified and linked to geographic features (115ff). What has any of this got to do with the Bible? Johnson then turns around and examines concepts behind the story of Babel and the story of Pentecost, showing how each also shows the way geography and regional dialects could emerge (118-120).

“Generation” is the final aspect Johnson interrelates between Scripture and evolution. Sex and procreation are obvious hallmarks of both conceptual worlds, guiding the drive for selection and survival in one and becoming deeply important to the continuity of God’s promises in the other. Lengthy discussions of the seeming strangeness of monogamy from an evolutionary and even biblical perspective, discussion of norms related to sex, the natural bent towards violent sexual encounters, and more are discussed and related between the two conceptual worlds Johnson is exploring. Highlighting any number of fascinating points would be possible here. For example, discussing the prohibitions in Leviticus, Johnson points out that the focus seems to be upon aspects of generation, not on the inherent evil of whatever acts are being ruled out (162-165). Whether this could foster some additional discussion of morality and ethics is beyond Johnson’s point here, but certainly could be worth exploring.

Johnson is even in his messaging throughout the book, rarely claiming to have some grandiose answer to questions about science and Christianity. Instead, his modest conclusion is that he “retain[s] a healthy and hopeful agnostic curiosity about the integration of these two conceptual worlds–evolutionary and Hebraic–whether they can be reconciled and how so” (201). He goes on to express hope that the discussion here will lead to colleagues correcting, agreeing, discussing, opening dialogue, etc. on these topics. I wholeheartedly agree.

What Hath Darwin to do with Scripture? breathes new life into the interplay between Christianity and science. It’s a book that demands careful reading and reflection and, I hope, will spur discussion of the dialogue into new, unexplored directions. Highly recommended.

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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Bonhoeffer on the “Social Gospel” and Reconstructing Faith

I have been labeled by some as a Progressive Christian, and even sometimes think of myself that way. That said, my primary identity remains Lutheran, and one of the reasons for that is that I believe that while the work for social justice is profoundly important, it cannot supplant the primary focus of my faith, which is Christ. It’s hard to put my finger on the what difference that makes, but I think a concrete example from the past can help shine some light on the topic.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran who was murdered by the Nazis in 1945, visited the United States and encountered what was then a growing movement towards the Social Gospel. Now, Bonhoeffer cannot be seen as some kind of pro-capitalist, anti-Communist, fundamentalist [1]. Bonhoeffer’s visit to the United States enlightened him on a number of things, and as he traveled the States, he condemned their treatment of minorities (especially African Americans). Bonhoeffer’s own writings repeatedly emphasize the need to feed the hungry and care for the poor and oppressed. But Bonhoeffer never allowed those concerns about social justice to supplant the Gospel. In one enlightening writing, “Memorandum: The ‘Social Gospel,'” Bonhoeffer writes a balanced perspective on the notion of social justice and the Gospel.

The work appears in the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works in English: Volume 12. He writes, first that the social gospel adherents are the people who are “most interested and participate most in international Christian work,” which gives the impression that it is the majority Christianity of the United States. This, he states, is “mistaken.” But the opposition and majority church of the time, one Bonhoeffer describes as fundamentalist, is highly problematic: “strong financial support from capitalist circles… and adherents of individualistic revival Christianity” (236). Anyone familiar with Bonhoeffer would know each of these was seen by him as deep condemnation. The church situation generally in the United States was seen by Bonhoeffer as having some problems rooted in its organization. While not having state support of the schools was likely seen by him as a major boon given what was happening to the German Christian movement back home, he rightly points out that “Because the church depends completely on the activity of the congregation, there is strong general interest in the church and a close fusion of public with church interests, with all the consequences for the dominance of the pew over the pulpit” (237).

Moving on to the social gospel’s teachings, Bonhoeffer notes that it makes the “gospel entirely relate[d] to the human being in his current situation…” It sees the problem for humans as the “materialistic, atomistic, individualistic, capitalistic” tenor of the age and proscribes the church as the solution; an ethical solution that reduces and conceals the “real Christ” to instead be the “religion of Christ” and makes the teachings of the church merely about “Christ’s teaching,” thus converting Christianity into “an ethical religion (or even only an ethic)” in which “the Decalogue and the Sermon on the Mount form its center.” The kingdom of God is seen as an ushering in of an age in which there is true brotherhood among human beings, and this makes God immanent in the world rather than transcendent. The resurrection is seen as a sign and total affirmation of Christ’s teaching of love of neighbor. Social gospel is a religion of action, seeking to bring that version of the Kingdom of God into the world now as the highest goal. Theology is reduced to being a concern only to those who are fundamentalist in their outlook (239-240).

These outlines of the social gospel ring surprisingly true for much modern Progressive theology. I say this as someone who is typically categorized as a Progressive Christian. Bonhoeffer’s words about the social gospel above are so close to so much Progressive theology I have seen. And there’s nothing wrong with seeking to bring the Kingdom of God now, or to usher in an era of inclusion, equality, and love for all people.

Bonhoeffer’s section following this outline of the social gospel is “Appreciation and critique,” and is worth noting at length. First, he states “The unrelenting seriousness with which the practical social problems are shown here, and with which Christians are called to serve, is the decisive contribution of American Christians [involved in the social gospel movement] to the understanding of the Christian message in the entire world… Taking seriously the kingdom of God as a kingdom on earth is biblically sound and is justified…” Clearly, Bonhoeffer resonates with the message of the social gospel over and against the “individualistic” and “capitalistic” concerns of fundamentalist Christianity.

However, the social gospel also caused problems by supplanting theology with Christ-as-ethic. Bonhoeffer writes, “The eschatological understanding of the kingdom, as one that God can create and brings in contrast to the world, has disappeared… Sin is not an unpleasant side effect of human existence; rather it corrupts the innermost core of human beings… Christ is the mediator who reconciles the human being with God and forgives his sins. Cross and resurrection as acts of God are therefore the center of history… God is not the immanent progressive ethical principle of history; God is the Lord who judges the human being and his work, he is the absolute sovereign… The optimism, the ideology of progress does not take God’s commandment seriously (Luke 17:10 [2]). It is modern enthusiasm. It fails to recognize human limits; it ignores the fundamental difference between a kingdom of the world and God’s Kingdom” (241).

Finally, he critiques the social gospel for being an Enlightenment philosophy containing a self-contradictory desire for international and collectivist/individualistic harmony. While such harmony is itself a better ideology than most, it misses the strength of the gospel message when it centers Christ’s resurrection and the coming kingdom of God.

Bonhoeffer’s critique of the social gospel, then, is important to me to understand because it shows how we can resonate and even encourage the goals of the social gospel, or in our own time, social justice while still arguing that to reduce Christianity to the message of human unity actually destroys the very message of the Gospel itself. Yes, we want unity of humanity. Yes, we want peace. Yes, we want to resist the “materialistic, atomistic, individualistic, capitalistic” trend we see in our own times. But no, we must not reduce the message of Christianity to the Sermon on the Mount or see Christ merely as another ethicist.

So much Lutheran theology walks the middle line between views seen to be an opposition. It is neither Arminian nor Calvinist; neither transubstantiation nor merely symbolic in the Eucharist; neither double predestination nor individualized choice of salvation. For our time, perhaps another middle line Lutherans walk is that line affirming both the necessity of theology and yes, even orthodoxy, while also working to bring justice to the world. It’s a line walking the acknowledgement that humanity is sinful and even corrupted by sin–something easier to do outside of our positions of privilege in suburban or urban homes in the United States; when children are made into soldiers, or violence is a day-to-day experience, it is easier to see the corruption of human nature–while also hoping that the God who entered the world in Christ can enter once more and bring healing and holism to humanity. I think it’s worth walking those lines.

Notes

[1]Ironically, his views on Scripture were seen as fairly conservative in his own setting but would be seen by American Evangelicals as wildly liberal today.

[2] “So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’’]'” NIV

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer– read all my posts related to Bonhoeffer and his theology.

Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Book Review: “Kierkegaard and the Changelessness of God” by Craig A. Hefner

Kierkegaard and the Changelessness of God by Craig A. Hefner presents an unusual dynamic: Kierkegaard being used in defense of a core tenet of classical theology: divine immutability.

Hefner begins with a brief introduction to Kierkegaard and correction of misconceptions, including the notion that Kierkegaard was somehow out of tune with classical Christian theology. What Kierkegaard was reacting against was not Christian doctrine but rather than sleepy, comfortable way in which people were living in light of it. Kierkegaard united, rather than divided, traditional Christianity and existentialism.

Next, Hefner moves into four chapters that cover Kierkegaard and the doctrine of divine immutability or changelessness. What makes this defense of immutability unique is in part its focus on Kierkegaard’s existentialism as a defense of that changelessness. The two topics appear to be divergent, but Hefner argues the are in fact unified in Kierkegaard’s milieu. Kierkegaard’s existentialism provides a way to contrast God and humanity. The changing, “all flesh is grass” nature of humanity is contrasted with the immutable God.

Rather than simply relying on this contrast, however, Hefner with Kierkegaard argues that the Self can be reintegrated across change due to its relationship only with an immutable God. God, in other words, is the ground for the Self in a very real way. A whole chapter focuses on James 1:17 and Kierkegaard’s interpretation thereof. James 1:17 is often used as the core text for divine immutability, and Hefner draws on various interpreters to bring its insights to life.

Finally, Hefner argues that Kierkegaard’s conception of immutability doesn’t rely upon metaphysics but rather upon the concept of the self. I admit some of this section was a bit beyond me, because it seems to me that ultimately anything relies upon some kind of metaphysics. However, grounding the concept of immutability on the divine self was an interesting endeavor.

Kierkegaard and the Changelessness of God is an unexpected read. I found it refreshing despite being extremely dense. Recommended for readers looking for deep discussion of existential theology and its application to classical theism.

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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Because of Concordia and Seminex

The news broke about a week ago (writing in February 2024). The Ann Arbor campus of Concordia University, also known as Concordia University – Ann Arbor (hereafter CUAA) is in dire financial straits. The University has been special through my life, as multiple family members including myself eventually attended and graduated from CUAA. However, I have mixed feelings about the place itself, especially some specific parts of the theology taught and interactions with people there. I’ve written some about this in posts elsewhere.

At the same time as I was thinking about CUAA and the complex feelings I have about it, Seminex hit its 50th anniversary. Seminex was shorthand for Seminary in Exile, a schism in the LCMS specifically centered at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis that led to several professors and hundreds of students leaving the Seminary. A complete history of Seminex is beyond the scope of that post. Briefly, the rise of a militantly conservative wing in the LCMS led to calls of heresy against multiple professors at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis due to their teaching mainstream tools for biblical interpretation. Rather than filing formal charges, these accusations essentially acted as a kind of blackballing and besmirching of the names of those professors deemed unorthodox by this radical wing. It ultimately led to the majority of professors and students walking out to form their own seminary, which ultimately merged with other Lutheran groups, including what would be come the ELCA.

As I prepared to write this article, I sifted through hundreds of photographs I took from my time on campus. It was like revisiting an old friend, in some ways literally. But it was also painful. A lot of those old friends aren’t friends anymore. Some of them have messaged me to tell me I’m going to hell. Others set people I didn’t even know to do the same. Still others disappeared without a trace, turning into nothing but ghosts from the past, living their lives as if I don’t exist.

I also revisited some of the works I’ve read about Seminex. Power, Politics, and the Missouri Synod by James C. Burkee tells the story of the conservative takeover of the LCMS. Like other denominations (eg. the Southern Baptist Convention), this takeover, when examined in the light of history, was less about the theological positions held by those involved than it was about power politics. Burkee himself taught at Concordia University Wisconsin, and tells the story from the perspective of a concerned insider, not an anti-LCMS outsider. It’s incredibly detailed, well-documented, and frankly alarming on almost every level.

But the book that has resonated most right now is No Room in the Brotherhood by Frederick W. Danker. Danker was one of the professors who left to be part of Seminex, and his telling of the way Seminex played out is both insightful and cutting in its analysis. His conclusion states explicitly that the various major names on either side of the conflict were not heroes or villains. Instead, the culprit was the “deep-seated conviction of the Missouri Synod that it was completely right. Any actions undertaken in concert with that conviction were therefore also right and it [the LCMS] was willing to perpetuate its institutional identity at any cost” (352).

The reason this resonated, and the reason my mind connected these two events–the possible closure of CUAA and Seminex’s 50th–is because the reaction and impetus seem so intertwined. I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve seen in the last week about how CUAA is the “city on a hill.” The language Jesus uses surrounding the city on a hill is that of letting Christians’ light so shine so that the good deeds of those will lead others to God. As Danker wrote, there’s this deep-seated conviction that the Missouri Synod (in this case, CUAA) is “completely right.” But it wasn’t completely right for so many.

It wasn’t completely right for gay people on campus who were mocked for who they were. It wasn’t a city on a hill for a woman who wanted to follow God’s call to be a pastor but was told she was disobeying God for wanting to serve. It wasn’t completely right for a Baptist friend who was told their view of baptism meant they were facing hellfire. It wasn’t a city on a hill when I witnessed pre-seminary men make fun of women, Jews, and Muslims. It wasn’t completely right for anyone perceived as “liberal.”

And here’s the hell of it: CUAA felt completely right so long as you were “in.” So long as you were LCMS, thought men should be in charge, and toed the party line, it felt like a city on a hill. I know, because I absolutely felt that way while I was there for a lot of the time I was there. Being an insider wasn’t just great, it was also, often, blissful ignorance that anyone was outside. After all, if we were experiencing this lovely joyful celebration of God, if we could really feel God’s working and presence in a chapel service or a late night call to prayer around a bonfire, how could it be anything but perfection? And how could anyone not want the same thing? And, importantly, how could they not want it in the same way?

That’s what makes this all feel so complex and, to use a sort of silly term, “yucky” about the whole thing. Because the second I was on the outside, I saw the willingness of people on the inside to perpetuate that identity “at any cost” as Danker wrote. A friend sicced an unknown seminarian on me to tell me that both I and my wife would be going to hell for thinking women could preach. Other friends disappeared, whether from the age-old Facebook friends list or entirely out of our lives. People I thought would be by my side throughout my life are no more than fragments of memory now. There was “no room in the brotherhood” for a man like me. And, like those attacked during the purge of the LCMS 50 years ago, I felt firsthand the equivocation between the perfection of the LCMS and the inerrancy they ascribe to Scripture. Questioning the LCMS view on anything wasn’t just questioning the LCMS, it was questioning Scripture and, by proxy, God!

So now, we’re here, and CUAA feels like this kind of epic thing in my life; a crucible through which I passed. Yes, there were good times–great times. That’s what makes it all so very hard. Because what was there could have been amazing. But if you stepped a toe out of line, God help you. The hashtag #becauseofconcordia is being used by people working to save CUAA. But I know that a few dollars–even the several million dollars that the campus needs to be in the black–aren’t enough to save CUAA. Only God can save CUAA and the LCMS. From itself.

Maranatha.

Links

Formerly Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod (LCMS) or Wisconsin Synod (WELS)– A Facebook group I’ve created for people who are former members of either of these church bodies to share stories, support each other, and try to bring change. Note: Anything you post on the internet has the potential to be public and shared anywhere, so if you join and post, be aware of that.

Leaving the LCMS/WELS– Not sure about whether to leave or thinking about leaving? Do you want to others who are thinking along the same lines? I created a group for those who are contemplating leaving these denominations, as well.

Why I left the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod Links Hub– Want to follow the whole series? Here’s a hub post with links to all the posts as well as related topics.

Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Book Review: “Reformation Commentary on Scripture: Old Testament IX- Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs”

The Reformation Commentary on Scripture series from InterVarsity Press is an impressive collection of commentaries that feature a wide range of voices from the Reformation period giving insight into biblical texts. The latest volume I got was Old Testament IX: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs. I was particularly excited for this volume both because I quite enjoy the books of the Bible it is discussing and because commentary on these books often varies wildly depending upon one’s background beliefs and theological stances.

Proverbs- a book that is confusing for many commentators through history, especially given its sometimes contradictory advice (eg. whether to debate the fool in Proverbs 26:4-5). What are we supposed to do with the book? Reformation commentators varied in their thoughts on the book, too. For example, Peter Moffett, an English clergyman, states that the book is simply a collection of “certain general, short, and pithy sayings, used…. in every person’s mouth” (7). By contrast, Michael Cop, a Swiss Protestant pastor, argued that the book is indeed wisdom that teaches Christ (ibid). The “Proverbs 31 woman” is a popular trope taken by many Christians today to present the model woman. Reformation commentators varied on the meaning of Proverbs 31’s teachings about a woman, including praising women for being strong not just physically but also mentally (John Trapp, an Anglican exegete, 201), considering the passage as showing how rare it is to find a woman with such insight or properties as a kind of backhanded tribute (Michel Cop, 198-199) and, intriguingly, an admonishment against useless and foolish husbands (Cop again, 201). Still more insights include seeing the passage not as an ideal woman but an abstract praising of “womanly arts” that makes it more of an empowering passage than an ideal women must live up to (Lucrezia Marinella, a Venetian poet and writer). Indeed the whole section on this Proverbs 31 passage is worth close reading and consideration.

Ecclesiastes- I’ll not spend as much time reviewing this, but it is interesting to see what the various commentators say about individual passages. I don’t like rushing past this book, which is a favorite of mine, but with limited time for review, suffice to say that the insights are just as fascinating as those in Proverbs.

Song of Songs- one of the more uniquely interpreted books of the Bible both then and now. Reformation theologians saw the book in varied lights. Martin Luther, for example, saw the book as a celebration of the ideal political order (305-306). Others saw it as allegory for love of the Holy Spirit for the church (Francois Lambert, a French Reformed theologian, 304). Others saw it as even more figurative, such as Calvin’s reading of the book as “a figural representation of Christ’s reign” (207). Desiderius Erasmus, famous opponent of Luther and Catholic theologian, was keen to defend the Bible from any kind of sexual impropriety while also arguing the book is not an allegory of the Virgin Mary (304-305, 307). While the allegorical readings were very popular, some theologians still saw it simply as showing the “veiled intimacies of marriage” (eg. Hugo Grotius, a Dutch lawyer and humanist, 313-314). The rest of the discussion of the book is just as interesting, showing an intriguing line that the interpreters walked between attempting to find comfort from the blatant sexual language in allegory while also acknowledging it in their use of allegory. One interesting example is Henry Ainsworth (an English Puritan Hebraist) whose interpretation of Song of Songs 4:4-5 which explicitly praises the breasts of the woman writes that breasts are for “ornament and use” while immediately turning it to being about God and the Church–“So here the ‘breasts’ of Christ’s spouse are compared to ‘roes’ for pleasantness, to ‘fawns’… This signifies how the church is fruitful in good works and words of comfort…” (377). This kind of blunt speaking of the sexual language of the text and immediately re-interpreting it as allegory is common throughout the Reformation period, though there are a few exceptions.

Old Testament IX: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs is an insightful, fascinating look at some of the books of the Bible with the most varied histories of interpretation. I recommend it for readers interested in Reformation theology but also for those who just want some insight into these fascinating, oft-contentious books of the Bible.

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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Book Review: “Nobody’s Mother: Artermis of the Ephesians in Antiquity and the New Testament” by Sandra L. Glahn

Nobody’s Mother by Sandra L. Glahn is a detailed look at questions about Artemis’s influence in Ephesians and the NT as well as specifically at 1 Timothy 2:11-15.

Glahn, after some discussion of why it’s worth taking a fresh look at Artemis in the NT, dives into Ephesus and Artemis across several chapters. For example, a common argument I’ve seen is that Artemis in Ephesus was associated with prostitution and that this should provide a background for how texts related to Artemis might play out. Glahn, however, argues that this is not the case and that the evidence for prostitution as a connection with Artemis is missing either Empire-wide or in the city of Ephesus specifically. Indeed, the opposite seems to be the case as Artermis is consistently associated with chastity and virginity. Artemis, one might say, is “Nobody’s Mother.”

Artemis was also associated with childbirth and midwifing, to the extent that she was seen as taking the pain of childbirth away. This, Glahn argues later, explains some of the complexities behind the 1 Timothy passage. One example of this is that the argument of being saved through or persevering through childbearing appears to be a reference to Artemis and has the author of 1 Timothy essentially giving readers the advice to set aside an idol–the Greek god Artemis–for Christ as Lord.

Glahn also applies some of these findings to how to read the rest of the text, noting that having Artemis in Ephesus and the related background provided in the foregoing chapters explains some of how Paul might have been arguing against false teaching and confronting the Artemis cult more directly.

Nobody’s Mother is a deep book that makes several well-informed arguments about topics related to NT interpretation. It is recommended highly.

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Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Book Review: “C.S. Lewis in America” by Mark A. Noll

C.S. Lewis in America: Readings and Reception, 1935-1947 is a fascinating look at how C.S. Lewis was received in the United States as he published theological and other works. Mark Noll is one of the most prodigious and intriguing historians of the church in America writing today. The book is mostly focused on the question of how Lewis was received in America, but other contributors introduce a number of other topics that broadens the appeal even more.

Noll’s comments are centered around the initial, largely positive American Catholic response to Lewis, then on his reception among secular writers, and finally on Lewis’s reception among American evangelicals. Responses to these chapters focus on race and religion in America at the time of Lewis, the interplay of The Catholic Hour and The Lutheran Hour on American audiences, and the way Lewis helped foster ways of communication with Christian themes. These responses introduce a number of additional topics that are sometimes only tangentially related to C.S. Lewis, but are all well worth the time to read.

C.S. Lewis in America is a fascinating read, especially for those wanting to know more about C.S. Lewis’s reception. Noll and the other contributors introduce a number of topics that make the book quite readable and with broader appeal.

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Links

Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Joshua and Judges as contrasting accounts- Archaeological evidence and apologetic import

Joshua and the Conquest Narratives- Archaeology says otherwise

Dever’s work, Beyond the Texts: An Archaeological Portrait of Ancient Israel and Judah is hyper-focused on the archaeological evidence related to Ancient Israel and Judah. There’s a lengthy section at the beginning about the differences between looking at archaeological evidence and its (largely) “given” nature (eg. a soup bowl is a soup bowl-that’s its use, and arguing otherwise doesn’t change it) as opposed to texts like the Bible or other writings which have interpretation, memory, hyperbole, fictionalization, etc. built in.

The book is full of major insights, and Dever continues to rely almost exclusively upon archaeological evidence to make his points. Eventually, he gets to the conquest narratives of Joshua-Judges. Of the 30+ sites mentioned as being conquered in those books of the Bible, only 3-4 have any signs of destruction in the right time period. Writes Dever:

“[I]n the light of the overwhelming archaeological evidence, there was no large scale warfare on the thirteenth- and twelfth-century horizon, except that initiated by the Philistines along the coast… The inevitable conclusion is that the book of Joshua is nearly all fictitious, of little or no value to the historian. It is largely a legend celebrating the supposed exploits of a local folk hero.” (186)

I kind of knew this already–a major impact point for myself as someone who literally got a degree in apologetics was looking at the evidence in ANE history and trying to reconcile that with the Bible. And broadly speaking, evangelicalism has a severe problem when it comes to the archaeological evidence here.

Dever, however, doesn’t simply unload on the Joshua account and move on. He shows the marked contrast between how Judges shows the inhabitation of the land and how Joshua does so, noting the difference in themes between the two books. Dever concludes regarding the two books:

“The conclusion in light of archaeology is inevitable. The book of Joshua looks like a late, Deuteronomistic construct preoccupied with theological concerns, such as the Sinai covenant, centralization, and the temple, that were paramount particularly in the exilic and postexilic era. Its authors were scarcely familiar or concerned with life in the early Iron Age settlements. The book of Judges, by contrast, has the ring of truth about it. The core of the narrative consists of stories about everyday life in the formative, prestate era, when ‘there was no king in Israel [and] all the people did what was right in their own eyes’ (Judges 21:25). The portrait of as much as two hundred years of struggles under charismatic leaders with other peoples of the land–of a long drawn-out process of socioeconomic, political, and cultural change–is more realistic than that of the book of Joshua, which is really the celebration of a legendary hero” (187-188).

These conclusions are supported broadly by Dever’s own look at the way people of that time period were living, with fascinating insights into the lack of states and lack of even defensive positions throughout the region at the time (see 133ff). Additionally, the conclusions are supported by Dever’s noting of the contrast between how Joshua does not accurately represent that region at the time while Judges even has details of how the people lived at the time portrayed in accurate ways (188). A careful reading of the two books reveals these contrasts, to go along with the list complied by Dever which includes things like Israel being a huge territory immediately conquered in Joshua compared to a small, decentralized entity in Judges. Again, the latter, a group of settlements with little to unify them and no central state, reflects the time period and the archaeological data far more than the concept of a vastly populated land ripe for dramatic, swift conquest. This is all buttressed even more by the fact that many of the sites mentioned in Joshua have been excavated and shown to either be unoccupied or unconquered with no layers of destruction in the time period it supposedly would have taken place.

These aspects present a series of problems for the conservative apologist as one who wants a unified, inerrant text with total historical accuracy. We’ll look at one attempt to do just that below, but for now I want to note the import of moving beyond such a view. Dever’s point of Joshua being theologically oriented to questions of the time in which it was written is vastly important. To say that Joshua doesn’t present an accurate view of what actually happened in the land does nothing to undermine its intent. It is not intended to be historically accurate as an account of Iron Age settlement in the region. Instead, it is focused upon questions of the land, the temple, and the strict monotheism, sprinkled with a heaping helping of hero worship of Joshua and classic Ancient Near Eastern hyperbole. It is only when the book is forced into modern boxes that it becomes problematic. The genocidal violence it portrays did not happen, and therefore does not present a problem for God’s character. While some may press that even this portrayal calls into question the character of God, I’m much less interested in that argument, because once we acknowledge that it is a work of humans attempting to understand God, it becomes, for me, much more understandable that sometimes they get it wrong.

A Contrasting, Evangelical View and Some Problems

Evangelical apologists, a group which once would have included me, have had a confrontation with this evidence in sight for a long time. In Do Historical Matters Matter to Faith?, a group of evangelical authors published with a conservative press (Crossway, 2012) a collection of essays attempting to confront some of the “modern and postmodern” challenges to Scripture. John M. Monson’s chapter is entitled “Enter Joshua: The ‘Mother of Current Debates’ in Biblical Archaeology.” Monson notes that apart from the most conservative scholars, the Joshua conquest account has been taken to be historically unreliable (431).

Monson confronts this presumed unreliability by calling into question a few things related to consensus views of archaeology. First, he plants the seeds of doubt by complaining that archaeology has been “given a privileged role of proving or–through assumed lack of evidence–disproving the biblical record” (431). Note the wording of this first contention. The use of the word “assumed” here carries a lot of weight in the sentence. Monson is implying that people are simply assuming the biblical text is mistaken on the conquest (and other) accounts. But that implies that there simply hasn’t been anything found, and so people are assuming with “lack of evidence” that there is no evidence. That is not the case, however, as Dever and others have demonstrated. Dever’s book outlines a list of 35+ sites mentioned in the Biblical conquest accounts. Of those sites, only 3-4 have any evidence of even possibly being threatened by Israelite incursions, and the majority of those which have been excavated do not show a layer of destruction in the right timeline for the conquest narratives. Thus, it is hardly fair to say people are assuming the biblical account is unreliable based on a “lack of evidence.” Instead, there is positive evidence to suggest that the Joshua conquest accounts are indeed inventions.

Monson, however, goes on in his defense. He argues that archaeology is a younger discipline and that combining its findings with other disciplines remains “fraught with challenges” (435, 439), he suggests that archaeology is simply assumed to be the discipline to confirm ancient writings but implies that such a use is perhaps mistaken (438-439), and he maintains that archaeology, due to its “scattered, random, and incomplete nature” struggles to find the right place alongside the Bible’s account which “is selective, ancient, and theologically oriented” (439). Many of these points are points that resonate with me, particularly the latter. Archaeology, like paleontology, relies quite a bit on luck. Now, both disciplines can rely increasingly on technology to help guide their finds, so “random” isn’t necessarily correct, but there is no corrective for discovering things which simply no longer exist. Like ancient creatures whose entire fossil record may have been destroyed by vulcanism, excavation, construction, or simply lack of preservation, with archaeology there are any number of figments of the past which no longer exist for any number of reasons. To rely too heavily upon archaeology for the construction of the ancient past seems to be the wrong approach. However, Monson’s own words about the Bible being “selective, ancient, and theologically oriented” should suggest to him and other apologetically oriented and/or evangelical readers that perhaps it is their own view of Scripture which is at fault here. If they are going in assuming that a text written with a theological (or other) purpose is supposed to yield faultless history, then perhaps that assumption itself is worth questioning as well. Indeed, why not simply acknowledge that Joshua is attempting to make theological and selective points rather than convey a 100% accurate historical picture of what happened in Israel?

Monson, for himself, goes on to make an argument that Joshua records geographically accurate accounts of coming into the land. When I originally read the book about 10 years ago, I found this utterly convincing. However, reflection now suggests that Monson’s argument is too neat. For one, while it is elegant in attempting to show that Israel’s conquest as recorded in Joshua would make sense along geographic lines, that doesn’t account for the fact that whatever ancient writers/editors of the book would also be well-familiar with the geography of the region and so would be unlikely to invent or embellish an account which did not correspond to the geography of the area. Second, Monson claims that his argument from geography shifts the burden of proof such that it “lies with those who would deconstruct these stories” (452). That may be, but having two alleged campaigns correspond geographically with the reason does not somehow undermine or disprove the archaeological evidence directly showing that multiple sites allegedly conquered during this time period either show no signs of occupation or no signs of conquest. This, notwithstanding Monson’s claims that some of these sites were uninhabited and so wouldn’t have had such signs (I believe I’m understanding his argument correctly on p. 436-438).

Monson’s argument appears to be revisionist and reactionary. While he provides one positive evidence in support of his claim, his entire argument for these two supposed campaigns relies not upon the actual evidence of destroyed sites but rather on the lay of the land. Fascinatingly, Monson is forced into analogical language even in this geographic argument, such as spending extensive time arguing that the Hebrew word for “gate” can refer to geographical features (448-449). That may well be the case, but it is hard to credit Monson for making an argument that supposedly buttresses the Joshua conquest narratives against archaeological evidence when he is to be found arguing not just that “gate” means a geographical feature, but also that Ai, the region being considered, can be referred to as “The Ruin” due to another lengthy argument relying upon the definite article being used with “ruins” (443-444) and that Ai, apparently problematic for a number of archaeological regions, could have, “For all we know,” been “nothing more than a small squatter’s settlement in the vicinity of the imposing ruins of the mighty Early Bronze Age City of the third millennium BC” (437-438). Well sure, but for all we know, that “squatter’s settlement” would then not make a lot of sense as the sight for two massive military campaigns that crisscrossed a whole region!

Finally, the real motivation between Monson becomes clear at the very end of his chapter. After pointing out the text of Joshua shows him remaining faithful to God, Monson writes: “Over a millennium later, another Joshua walked through this same region. He too remained faithful. If we dismiss the real Joshua ben-Nun and his times, what is to stop us from dismissing the later Joshua, Jesus of Nazareth?” (457). This remarkable final sentence of Monson’s chapter is a case study in a loaded question. First, it implies that only by agreeing with the conquest narratives in toto can one agree there was a “real Joshua ben-Nun.” Second, it implies that there is an evidential link between Jesus and Joshua’s conquest narratives. That may be true, but it is unargued for here. Third, it uses scare tactics. Only those who agree with a slippery slope type argument will acquiesce to it, but for those people–presumably inerrantists–it’s a powerful way to thwart disagreement. After all, if the Bible isn’t historically accurate on Joshua, then that somehow means we have to question Jesus! This, of course, is ridiculous, but it’s exactly what Monson is implying. And frankly, this scare tactic shows where Monson is coming from in the earlier parts of his chapter. There’s not a genuine engagement with the evidence happening. Rather, the evidence needs to be massaged, evaded, or simply denied in order to maintain the story of Joshua at all costs; because for Monson, Jesus and the literal, genocidal conquest of Canaan stand or fall together.

Conclusion

It is probably clear to the reader at this point that I think Dever’s account is much more convincing than Monson’s. Yet, I say this as one who remains a Christian. Reading Dever actually gave me a sigh of relief. For so long, I had a bunch of issues with these accounts. Initially it was the ethical problem–why would God destroy these peoples? Later, I had the archaeological problem–now that I’d sacrificed my ethical impulse to condemn the slaughter, what if it hadn’t actually happened? To have someone who studies the archaeology simply lay out the evidence and say “This did not happen, and it was likely a fictitious invention to celebrate a folk hero” is, in a way, a relief. For one, his following that up with arguing that Judges is likely a much more accurate account makes me convinced yet again of something I’ve thought for a while–that once one leaves aside inerrancy, the biblical text becomes not just more readable but less scary in some ways–it doesn’t require you as a reader to constantly defend the indefensible. For another, setting aside the conquest narratives means that it is what I had long leaned towards–that these parts of the Bible are really just people trying to hyperbolically make “their guy” sound better than “the other guy”–seems backed by archaeological evidence. And Christians, we should truly be concerned with truth rather than attempting to support a pet doctrine, inerrancy, that doesn’t work on its own terms anyway.

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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

Reconstructing Faith– Links for posts related to my own faith journey and how I have been reconstructing faith (scroll down for more).

Inerrancy With No Autographic Text?– Even those looking to defend inerrancy are having difficulty with the concept of the autographic text. But what if it is not just that we can never find such a text, but rather that no such text existed to begin with? I argue that such is the case at least for some works and that inerrancy therefore does not work.

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Inerrancy With No Autographic Text?

The Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy, perhaps the most well-known and oft-cited affirmation of biblical inerrancy, declares that inerrancy as a doctrine applies explicitly to the autographic text of Scripture- “Article X. WE AFFIRM that inspiration, strictly speaking, applies only to the autographic text of Scripture, which in the providence of God can be ascertained from available manuscripts with great accuracy.” The reality is that inerrancy as defined by the majority of inerrantists, including the Chicago statement, simply cannot stand up to the reality of how the Bible was formed. What makes this point most starkly, in my opinion, is that conservatives who affirm inerrancy are now finding themselves in the unenviable position of learning and having to acknowledge that for some of the Bible, the very concept of an autographic text is an impossibility.

One example of this is Benjamin P. Laird. Laird is associate professor of biblical studies at the John W. Rawlings School of Divinity of Liberty University. Liberty University’s statement of faith includes a clause about the Bible which states, in part, “We affirm that the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, though written by men, was supernaturally inspired by God so that all its words are the written true revelation of God; it is therefore inerrant in the originals and authoritative in all matters.” Once again, at question is the “original” text of Scripture. But what if there is no original? I want to be clear, I’m not asking the question, which is oft-discussed in inerrantist writings, of what happens if we don’t have the original. Textual preservation has made that almost impossible for any ancient text, and inerrantists have long argued that this is no problem because while inerrancy only applies to the original or autographic text, the Holy Spirit has worked to preserve the text faithfully to the extent that we can be assured that we know enough to have proper faith and practice.[1] No, the claim I’m discussing isn’t whether we have the original text, but whether we can definitively point to any (imagined) autographic text as the original or the autograph at all.

Laird’s discussion of autographs in his book, Creating the Canon, is informative. The book focuses on the formation of the canon of the New Testament. Laird notes that the longtime assumption of [some] scholars was that the original text was the inerrant one. However, he goes on to look at how letters and other works were produced in antiquity, including a number of difficult questions this raises: “When we refer to an original autograph, are we referring to the initial draft of a work, a later revision or expansion, the edition that first began to circulate, or to the state of the writing at some later stage in the compositional process?” (48). Additionally, after noting that “it would seem most appropriate to identify the original autograph of a work not as the initial draft but as the final state of the writing that the author had reviewed and approved for public circulation” (49), he notes that letter writing in the ancient world often included the writer using a scribe and having that scribe produce “one or more duplicate copies” for themselves, including copies that may have differed depending upon the audience to whom they were sent (49, 54ff).

A concrete example is the ending of Romans, which Laird notes has some problematic textual history (56-57). After noting the difficulty of determining just how long the “original” letter to the Romans was, Laird notes various scholarly responses, including the possibility that there were two different “original” editions of Romans, one with a longer doxology that would have been intended for local audiences and one which omitted it, which were eventually combined (60-61). This leads to the remarkable conclusion that “it is a strong possibility that at least three copies of the text of Romans were produced at the end of the compositional process: one for the Romans, one for those in Corinth, and one for Paul and/or his associates” (61-62). In the conclusion of this fascinating section, Laird states, “Rather than assume that the compositional process of the canonical writings culminated with the production of a single ‘original autograph,’ it is therefore best to think of something that might be described as an original edition” (64).

I admire Laird’s dedication to highlighting the problematic nature of the concept of “autograph” when it comes to the biblical text, but have to wonder what kind of cognitive dissonance that might create for someone who teaches at a place where the statement of faith explicitly refers to inerrancy in the “originals.” Sure, Laird could punt the issue to whatever he means by “original edition” as opposed to “original autograph,” but at that point, what does inerrancy even mean?

I affirmed and defended inerrancy for many years. I finally let go of it for a number of reasons which are largely beyond the scope of this post. But I understand inerrancy, and understand how to defend it. I have even done so on this very blog. What I know included things like we defended the doctrine as applying to the autographic text. But if, as Laird and many, many others are pointing out, it’s true that there is no autographic text for at least some of the Bible, how can a defense of inerrancy even make sense? It’s like a constantly retreating battle for inerrantists: declare the Bible inerrant; but which Bible?; declare it only applies to the autographs; but we don’t have the autographs; so say that the autographic text is preserved at least to the extent that it doesn’t impact essentials of the faith; but autographs don’t exist to begin with. What’s supposed to follow that? For Laird the answer seems to be “say the original edition is inerrant.” But what is an original edition? And Laird’s questions, which are quite helpful, would absolutely apply to any such discussion- is it the drafts made along the way to the “final product,” and which final product- the one(s) Paul kept for himself or the one(s) to the local church or the one(s) to the church(es) at large?

The massive import of these questions for any doctrine of inerrancy must be made explicit. The Chicago Statement makes its stand upon the autographic text. If there is no autograph to which we can point, that statement falls. Almost every definition of inerrancy in modern times does the same. They are written as if we could travel back and time and point to a text, fresh off the pen of a scribe or writer, and say “this text is inerrant.” The reality is that not only do we not have such a manuscript today, but it is becoming increasingly clear that such a scenario needs to be rewritten, with a number of different texts directed towards different audiences, with different inclusions and exclusions in the text. Would the time traveler have pointed to a text of Romans with a doxology or without it? Would they point to a work in progress or a final draft? Would certain stories that seem to have been edited into the text be part of the inerrant text or not? The time traveler scenario is now complicated beyond imagining. We don’t have a single text of Romans we could point to definitively and say “there it is.” This is admitted even by those who wish to affirm inerrancy. And so again, what does it even mean to affirm that doctrine?

It’s worth at this point stopping the discussion to ask a simple question: is inerrancy worth it? Is there something about inerrancy that makes it an unassailable doctrine that all Christians must affirm such that we must continue to circle the wagons in ever smaller circles in order to try to be able to point at something that is inerrant in Scripture? Or–hear me out–or is it possible that evangelicals have made the wrong thing inerrant? Instead of making a text inerrant and essentially equivalent to God, what if we allowed that place to stay with Christ, the God-Man Himself, and the person whom the Bible attests as the divine Word of God? This has been, historically, the position of the church[2], and is a position which requires far less retreating whenever a new discovery is made that seems to call into question some potential error in the Bible or some problem with how modern statements on how the Bible must work are read. Rather than trying to constantly revise and salvage a doctrine that appears to need a revisiting every few years, Christians should focus instead upon God, whose steadfast love never changes.

Notes

[1] See, for example, the Chicago Statement, again Article X- “WE DENY that any essential element of the Christian faith is affected by the absence of the autographs. We further deny that this absence renders the assertion of Biblical inerrancy invalid or irrelevant.”

[2] A history of the doctrine of inerrancy is very revealing and shows it to be a largely American invention in the late 19th to early 20th centuries. The statements on this doctrine were not found in ecumenical councils, nor creeds, nor really anywhere until the 20th century. Efforts to read the doctrine back onto history are just that- reading into history rather than reading history. For example, there is not discussion of the “autographic text” in early Christian writings on the canon. They didn’t even have a concept of why that would be important. The doctrine is totally dependent upon post-Enlightenment and modernist categories. Ironically, it is parasitic upon textual criticism, developing essentially in opposition to that which those who affirm the doctrine wished to deny. When textual criticism pointed out difficulties in the text as it stood, inerrantists punted the doctrine to the autographs. This is just one example of how inerrancy is entirely dependent on categories foreign to historical Christian doctrine or to the Bible itself.
As a Lutheran, an additional note- I mention here the Lutheran church explicitly because even in the earliest times for Lutherans, some Lutherans–including Luther–had questions about the canonicity of some accepted books of the Bible, along with some other issues that were raised. Lutherans have held almost from the beginning that, as Luther said, the Bible is the cradle of Christ; the Bible is not God. Some Lutheran denominations today hold explicitly to inerrancy (eg the LCMS and WELS), but this does not seem continuous with global Lutheranism or Lutheran doctrine specifically.

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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

SDG.

——

The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.

Why I left the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod: Still Faithful

Still Faithful

It has taken me a long time to work up to writing this post. It’s actually been more than a year since I last made a post in this series, in part because of my own processing of the events. However, I’ve been asked time and again by many who have left the LCMS or who have left evangelicalism or other restrictive Christian groups to tell about why I am still a Christian. Why did I stay, despite the abuse, despite so many things I saw as wrong, despite everything? And, an oft-unspoken part of the question that I’ve heard is “How?” How is it, that after all these observations, after coming to a place in which I found much of what I was taught and thought was true is totally wrong, that I continue to believe anything?

Faithful?

Part of my hesitancy to write this post is because I know from bitter experience how many might read it and scoff. “‘Still faithful,’ he says? He’s a heretic/wolf in sheep’s clothing/demon-possessed!” I have heard each of these from various people, including people in person. And, while it’s easy to say to ignore those people who dress up their power trip in theological garb, it is so much easier said than done. When you had a true fear of literal hellfire for many years, it’s very harmful to be confronted by people who use that fear to try to silence and oppress. So yes, I know the scoffers are out there, and that I’ll hear or see some of those awful comments again. But I still think it’s important to write on this because there are so many out there who are wondering if it is okay to still be faithful when so much harm comes from within. I write this for you–and for me.

I Still Believe… what?

One thing that is easy to trip up on as people are deconstructing and/or reconstructing faith is the constant refrain of questions pushing to get at exactly what we believe. I get that a lot from more conservative Christians and especially apologists, who are often, unfortunately, seeking to argue about whatever beliefs I espouse instead of engage with me honestly. I know this is true. I have my degree in Apologetics. Literally. I did this same thing from the other side, and I repent of that. Engaging online is often helpful because it opens you up to others who might be on the same path, but it also invites in those who simply out to argue with everyone. And so often, the way people are taught about Christianity is a “my way or the highway” mentality such that any divergent view isn’t just seen as wrong, but actually excludes the person who holds that view from the Christian community.

Suppose I told you that I believe trans people are worthy and loved by God not in spite of but for who they are. If your visceral reaction to that is to immediately turn to argument, then that is that same upbringing or that same background of beliefs I’m referring to. You, the one reading this, are using that belief I hold in order to “other” me. I am now “less than” on your view.

It is this black and white, either/or thinking that I have broken away from. It has taken more than a decade, and it has taken so much pain and spiritual agony and angst, but I have finally broken beyond the dichotomy in my thinking. None of this means that I don’t think that reality has things that are true or false, or that some theological positions are correct, while others are not. No, it’s the inherent urge to repress/correct/change those who disagree with me that I’ve broken out of. And, more importantly, it’s the urge in myself to stand upon certainty in all things that I am still in the process of breaking away. It’s okay to say “I don’t know” as a response to theological questions. It really is. And maybe you are fairly sure about some things. That’s okay, too. What I’m talking about breaking away from is that inherent tension, fear, and othering of anyone who disagrees or any belief that is different. Some things I do still hold fairly strongly to. Others, not so much. There are so many things I hold now that while I may be able to answer “I believe this about that,” I am also comfortable saying, “but I’m not really sure about it.”

All of this is to say I’m not as interested in the “nail down the answers to theological questions A, B, C, ….Z” approach anymore. Sure, there are many theological positions I still hold, and may hold firmly. But to me that’s so much less interesting than God in Christ.

False Gods

Recently, I went to a retreat for a bunch of progressive Christians or formerly-Christian people still interested in theology. It was incredibly life-giving. It was filled with praise. It was filled with questions. It was uncomfortable at times.

One song that I heard live was “Some Gods Deserve Atheists” by Derek Webb. I’d never heard it before. He prefaced his singing by saying we should constantly be trying to kill our gods. Any god we could kill simply by thinking hard enough about it would deserve such a death. And some gods deserve atheists–they aren’t real; they’re formed of hate or fear. For me, a god who created people for the express purpose of condemning them to an eternal hellfire is one such god. Such a god deserves atheists; that god is not worth our time or worship. That’s a god of “othering” when the God I believe in, the God I learned about in Christ, is a God of Love, a God who is literally described as love itself on the highest possible level. God is love; and any God who doesn’t reflect that deserves atheists.

Does this mean I’m putting myself in judgement of God? Well, only if that god is small enough to be able to be judged by me. Any god that can be so contained into a box that I can sit back and disprove that god in my head, or by that god’s fruits on Earth, is no god.

Still Faithful

One thing that has shocked me, and that I am by turns disturbed and comforted by, is that a big part of why I still believe is that I still tend to think a lot of Lutheran answers to big questions are correct. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a Christian theologian in Nazi Germany who was executed, in part, for his participation in the Confessing Church, a tiny minority of Christians in Germany who opposed the Nazis even as the overwhelming majority of Christians capitulated to or joyfully joined hands with them. Before he was murdered, some of his writings feature him speaking of “religionless Christianity.” Misinterpretations of his theology here have him lionized by various movements. But at the core of his thought wasn’t the overthrow of churches–that wouldn’t have made sense for a man whose theology included seeing sacraments such as Baptism as integral to Christian faith. The core, rather, is the stripping away of the structures that prevent Christians from living wholly into Christ or mirroring Christ to others. Bonhoeffer wrote of the maximal importance of living for the people around us and for the world. One helpful summary of religionless Christianity is found in Tom Greggs’s work, Theology Against Religion. Therein, he writes in part that religionless Christianity is “fiercely anidolatrous”–its doctrine of God seeks to constantly fight against the human tendency to create God in our own image or a God who defends our preconceptions; it is “resolutely unwilling to engage in articulating binaries“–it doesn’t seek to “other” but to unite; it is “not differentiating between sacred and secular spaces“–our lives are lives reflecting Christ in whatever spheres we enter; and it is “seeking to meet people in the fullness of their lives” (emphasis his, 218).

All of this is an extended way to get at some things I want to highlight. First, I think that the faith I hold now welcomes others in radical ways. Second, it remains tied inherently to streams of thought in Christian tradition, often reaching back to the earliest Christian theologians like Origen or Gregory of Nyssa. Third, it remains a faith radically against Christianity empowered by structures of state or hierarchies of power. That is, my faith stands against any use of Christianity for oppression. And yes, the church has so much to answer for here.

Finally, I must turn to a few concrete beliefs and affirmations because without them it doesn’t make sense of the question “How do I remain Christian” in a meaningful way.

The evils of the world, merely contemplating them, left me broken for a time. School shootings that could have easily been prevented if humans would have acted also call into question why God wouldn’t act. I mean, if God could really drop a stone on anyone at any point, why wouldn’t God do so–just once–in order to stop a school shooting in progress even as humans failed to do so? And the tired apologetic answer I used to rely on–that we don’t know how many such tragedies God has prevented by whatever means–just doesn’t work for me anymore. If God really could just intervene, why don’t we just see it?

I know all the answers to this question. Like, really. I studied theodicy so much while getting my degree. Molinism, open theism, process thought, free will defense, etc. The answers range from God doesn’t intervene because God has greater goods planned (free will, or whatever) to God can’t actually prevent such evil, so that’s why God doesn’t. And I have a confession: none of them are really satisfactory to me. Why does God allow evil? I don’t know. And the more I suffered over this question, the more I fell into holes of anxiety looking at the latest news of a massive shooting or some other horrible evil, the more I realized that I just don’t know, but I feel like I know other things that make me live in tension on this question. For example, I feel I know Jesus Christ is real, and that God is love. And since those feel real to me, and I believe them, I live in tension on the question of evil. If I were a really good Lutheran, I’d fully embrace an appeal to mystery here. And that’s kind of what I’m doing, in a way. But it’s deeper; I just don’t know that we can know. Whatever answer is given here is going to be unsatisfactory in some way. If it’s because God can’t prevent evil; to me that seems to make God smaller in ways I don’t understand. If it’s because God has some greater good in mind, it seems to underplay the real horrible suffering of people now. If it’s because God can’t prevent evil due to allowing for free will, it seems that it would be worth suspending free will–even entirely–in order to prevent so much suffering. And so I just… I don’t know. And I’m learning to be honest with myself in holding to that uncertainty.

Other theological questions have led to rethinking of positions. One such question was that of the fate of the lost. Why would a God who claims to be loving form people who that same God would then sentence to suffer for eternity? For a time, I held to conditional immortality, also known as annihilationism. That view, which I still think is better attested Scripturally than any kind of eternal conscious torment view, holds that those who don’t believe in Christ for whatever reason are ultimately annihilated or destroyed by God. Immortality, that is, is conditional upon faith in Christ. But I continued to struggle with this, whether it’s the reality that so many never get a chance to even hear about Christ, or that so many hear about Christ only through systems of colonialism and oppression, it didn’t make sense to me. Additionally, many verse in Scripture suggest that God wants all to be saved. So why not do so? More than that, long Christian tradition reaching back to the earliest teachers of Christianity affirms universal salvation. So, a short answer to the question of the lost and how I stay Christian regarding that question is that I think God will really reconcile the whole world to Godself, so that God really will be all in all (1 Cor. 15:28).

Ah! One might immediately challenge that with other scriptural verses that strongly suggest that not all are saved. And to that, another answer I have come to is that the Bible is polyvocal. It doesn’t speak with a united front on these topics. And, while that is annoying and has caused confusion and so much pain, it also is somewhat freeing and beautiful. God didn’t pigeonhole the authors of Scripture into losing their opinions and voices. It’s far more complex than that.

There are so many more, but these are some of the big questions I personally faced that I hadn’t addressed yet in the series, and some of the answers I continue to settle upon. I offer them not to try to convince you, but to try to answer the question of how I remain Christian. I remain Christian, in part, because I reconstructed my faith, and I came to answers that I think make more sense of reality than the answers I had before.

Concluding Thoughts

I have so much more to say. I wish that for those readers who ask me the question “why/how do you stay Christian” who are genuinely wondering about it, that I could sit and have brunch with you and talk about it for hours. I mean, isn’t that question so far reaching, so fascinating? And I look back over what I wrote and it all seems so small, and so inadequate to even begin the conversation.

For me, Jesus Christ is so fascinating, so loving, and so central still, that it compels me to come back time and again. When I see the awfulness that is so much of Christianity; the latest report of a Christian pastor using a position of power to assault or degrade others, for example, I find myself fleeing back to Christ. And I don’t mean a trite “that’s not real Christianity” type answer to the evils Christians perpetrate. The links of Christianity in America and power are too interwoven to pretend that real Christians don’t bring about much harm. Rather, what I mean is, I flee back to a God who came into our world, who suffered, and who rose, and who intentionally brought so much powerful goodness to the world that our lives, when viewed from eternity, will all be for good.

Links

Formerly Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod (LCMS) or Wisconsin Synod (WELS)– A Facebook group I’ve created for people who are former members of either of these church bodies to share stories, support each other, and try to bring change. Note: Anything you post on the internet has the potential to be public and shared anywhere, so if you join and post, be aware of that.

Leaving the LCMS/WELS– Not sure about whether to leave or thinking about leaving? Do you want to others who are thinking along the same lines? I created a group for those who are contemplating leaving these denominations, as well.

Why I left the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod Links Hub– Want to follow the whole series? Here’s a hub post with links to all the posts as well as related topics.

Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!

SDG.

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