The Knight Blog

Baptism and the Imminent End

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 09:33:00 +0000

Something that has perhaps been lost in much of modern theology, with the exception of premillenial theology, is the forceful influence of the belief that Christ's return is imminent. This force is certainly present, however, in the New Testament and in early Patristic thought. This sense of the soon-to-come parousia can possibly be observed in early baptismal practices.

Geoffrey Wainwright, in his book Christian Initiation, notes this possibility:

Because it introduces men into Christ and into the Church, baptism points to the End. J. Jeremias has laid weight on the eschatological reference of the sacrament as making for a primitive practice of infant baptism: there would be no delay in ensuring the salvation of the whole family through incorporation into Christ and His body in view of the imminent End. (10)

Certainly this urgency should not display a sense of panic, as this incorporation is into what Christ has already accomplished and is currently accomplishing through the Church. A sense of panic would place the center of salvation on baptism and not in Christ and His atoning work. Yet this urgency points forcefully forward to the fulfillment of the new creation, to the not yet, just as the Eucharist points forward to the eschatological wedding feast. Paedobaptism is not a wait-and-see approach, but an act of the Church claiming a child as its own, placing the child in a movement forward to the new creation.

Aquinas on Theological Education

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 15:15:00 +0000

Recently in the Aberdeen systematics seminar we've been discussing Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologiae, using the translation / notes from Thomas Gilby, O. P. So far it has been very enjoyable.

Something I greatly appreciated was insight into Thomas Aquinas' teaching method in the Summa. Thomas wants to resist a sort of flattened, catechetical theological education in which doctrinal conclusions are simply bounced back and forth in an echo chamber. "Repetitiousness has bred boredom and muddle in [student's] thinking." (3) Instead, the format of the Summa is meant to carry the reader not merely to a conclusion but through a process of thought.

Theology is thus a process and not simply a product, a journey and not simply a destination. It rests on catholic truth but is ever in motion as well, perhaps in some way analogous to how Christians rest in Christ and His accomplished work while also moving forward in a process of sanctification.

Aquinas' teaching method also emphasizes theological study within relationships. In the Foreword he mentions the importance of the teacher / student relationship, noting that teachers are to "build up," "shape," and "convey." Theology, like sanctification, is something grown and encouraged by mentors. The teacher is not merely an information repository but a guide.

Furthermore, theology takes place within a relationship with God. Aquinas emphasizes that both student and teacher are to trust "in God's help." Human intelligence is here set in the context of divine assistance - human intelligence derives from God, is sustained by God, and is moved by God. Aquinas believes our intellectual operations are entirely ours and also entirely God's. I suspect there is an implicit ethical injunction here - the theologian must trust in God's help each day, not resting simply on some notion of his own independent natural powers, and not giving his mind over to sin.

The Indignance of Child-Killers

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Last week, the Susan G. Komen for the Cure charity organization decided to defund Planned Parenthood. Then, after a great public outcry spearheaded by Planned Parenthood itself, the charity quickly reversed their decision and decided to continue funding Planned Parenthood after all.

It is not immediately clear why Komen decided to defund Planned Parenthood in the first place. The foundation suggests it was because Planned Parenthood is under investigation by a congressman, and their new guidelines on grants prohibited them from funding any organization under investigation.

Yet after the outcry against them, Komen decided that they were fine with Planned Parenthood's situation after all, investigation or no investigation. They constructed a rule exception specially tailored for Planned Parenthood, being too weak-kneed to even stand by the supposed principle of their rule on investigations.

Like an embarrased mother, Komen capitulated to Planned Parenthood's spoiled child response: how dare you stop giving me free cash.

In a reasonable world, Komen would have decided to defund Planned Parenthood, and Planned Parenthood would have maturely responded with "Thank you for all the support you have given in the past from your own funds. We greatly appreciate everything you've done." Komen, after all, does not owe Planned Parenthood anything. The charity's funds are theirs to distribute as they please. Planned Parenthood did not do anything to earn this cash. If they were to cease receiving this cash, no injustice would have been done to them.

Planned Parenthood and its allies, however, quickly constructed a social media outcry that the timid Komen could not withstand. The tragic result is that Komen decided to continue to fund an organization dedicated to destroying innocent children.

Now there is an outcry of a different sort, one easier for Komen to ignore: the outcry of innocent blood from the ground.

New Year Blogging Plan

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 15:21:00 +0000

Greetings everyone. Here's what I'm hoping the Knight Blog will look like in the coming year. I'm not so much interested in interacting with other bloggers in the blogosphere (not that such a thing is wrong, per se). I'd rather focus on interacting with various theologians from church tradition, hopefully in a manner that might be informative even if you disagree with me. Here are some things I know I'll be reading in the upcoming year, and thus very likely blogging about as well:

T. F. Torrance: Various Works.

Thomas Aquinas: Summa Theologiae Ia.1.

Karl Barth: Church Dogmatics IV.4

Gerald Bray: God Is Love: A Biblical and Systematic Theology

Jeremy Begbie: Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music

I may also be constructively contemplating various issues that are in my craw at the moment, including worship & liturgy, the doctrine of baptism, Christ's Incarnation, faith & intellect, God's love, and covenant theology. And who knows what else.

That's it. Posting to resume sometime soon, probably at least by the start of February.

Born Into A World Of Winter

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

George MacDonald, in his story Adela Cathcart, says -

Who cares for Winter weather at Christmas? I believe in the proximate correctness of the date of our Saviour's birth. I believe He always comes in Winter. And then let Winter reign without: Love is king within, and Love is lord of the Winter. (Kindle: 194-96)

Or as C.S. Lewis put it, always winter and never Christmas - until the Lion comes. Christmas is the Eucharistic feast in the midst of a world awaiting the fulfillment of Spring.

My Favorite Reads of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 13:54:00 +0000

Or should it be "favourite" since I am currently in the UK? Here are some great books I read this year and some thoughts on them. They are listed in no particular order.

De Doctrina Christiana (On Christian Teaching)

St. Augustine

Somehow, despite having read many of Augustine's other works, I had made it this far without reading De Doctrina Christiana. Now that I finally have, I think it is probably one of my favorite books by Augustine. The book is primarily concerned with establishing a Christian hermeneutic. A method of allegorical interpretation emerges here that largely avoids falling into the caricatures of allegoresis made by modern exegetes. I may blog more thoughts about this book in the future. Until then, here is a brief taste.

Solomon Among the Postmoderns
Peter J. Leithart

At some point during my undergraduate degree at Union University I began to suspect that postmodernism was not as bad as people were making it out to be. I started researching postmodern philosophy a bit more and this book was an excellent entry point, providing what I feel to be valid positive and negative observations about postmodernism, often in light of comparisons with Ecclesiastes and Proverbs. The book is also very short and manageable - I read it on a flight from the states to Scotland.

Defending Constantine
Peter J. Leithart

Leithart gets two books on the list this year! Defending Constantine is somewhat misnamed. Leithart is not defending Constantine's actions in the book (not always, at least) but is instead responding to various popular construals of Constantine's life. One example is John Howard Yoder's understanding of Constantinianism, which Leithart argues has incorrectly portrayed Constantine and his influence on Church history. Your mileage may vary, but I found the book interesting. Read more here.

An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine
John Henry Cardinal Newman

Newman's theological writing feels incredibly honest, humble, and awe-filled. His thought shaped his life dramatically. I find sympathy with his heart for the non-intellectual layperson in the pews, as well as his robust pursuit of the truth. I disagree with him on many points, as you'll see if you dare to read my M.Th dissertation on Newman, but I thoroughly enjoy his writings. This book is great, though the subject is more readable in Newman's condensed version, his University Sermon on development.

University Sermons
John Henry Cardinal Newman

Speaking of, Newman's sermons are excellent little condensed versions of much of his writing elsewhere. Matters of faith, doctrinal development, the patristics, the Virgin Mary, the illative sense, the Christian Idea - they all appear in some form here and are all major themes in Newman's life and work. If anyone is interested in a study of Newman's thought, this is probably the best place to start. Much more accessible and readable than some of his other writings, like Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent.

Principles of Sacred Theology
Abraham Kuyper

A leftover from my undergraduate Kuyper kick. Having read quite a bit of Kuyper over the years, I've found him to be a bit hit-or-miss, and this book continues that trend. There is some interesting material in this work that I certainly desire to return to someday soon in order to give it more thought, but the work has its fair share of downsides, like a poor organization and what seems like an over-obsession with certain theological questions. That said, I enjoy reading Kuyper a lot and look forward to returning to this book at some point to give it more thorough attention.

Church Dogmatics I / 1: The Doctrine of the Word of God
Karl Barth

This year I have made my first extensive foray into Barth's Church Dogmatics, having only read brief selections previously. It has been a wonderful experience reading from the man who is arguably the greatest theologian of the 20th century. I've been reading this along with the other Aberdeen Ph.D students as part of the systematic theology seminar. Barth is not always easy to read and tends to be long-winded. It is difficult to briefly comment much more on this work here.

Theology In Reconciliation
Thomas F. Torrance

A great little book on Christology / Ecclesiology that was among the many books I've been reading for my Ph.D thesis on T. F. Torrance's theology. It was the chapter on baptism in this work that originally piqued my interest in my current Ph.D thesis topic. Torrance's books tend to vary in levels of reading difficulty, and this is probably one of the more accessible books by him (apart from the easy-to-read Atonement and Incarnation lectures). Overall, not a bad little book.

King Cain's Political Scandal

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 11:51:00 +0000

Martin Luther, in his Lectures on Genesis (ed. Jaroslav Pelikan), describes the origin of civil government as a postlapsarian necessity to curb the effects of sin and evil. Of course, civil government itself is fallen and imperfect, and this is illustrated in Luther's interpretation of the Cain and Abel story.

Luther reads the story of Cain and Abel as a clash between a sort of statist, hierarchical church (relevant as an image of the Roman Catholicism of his day) and a humble, Word-honoring church (relevant as an image of the Protestant movement). Whereas Augustine before him wrote in The City of God about the titular city as the Church and the City of Man as the fallen, rebellious world, Luther’s conception of the antithesis is not one of opposed cities but of opposed churches. The core of the divide is in the ecclesia and not the politia.

For Luther, there is no such thing as a human being who does not worship. Everyone worships something – it is as natural to man as eating, drinking, and breathing. The distinction is between the objects of worship. Either man is worshipping God, or he is worshipping idols (even if he thinks he worships nothing, he is worshipping himself). Either he is breathing air, or he breathing dust.

Cain, however, is the precursor not merely to false religion, but to false state religion. Luther identifies Cain as the first king and lord in the world. His interpretation is informed again by his strong sense of the unity of Scripture:

Cain was a husbandman; and in Job and Ecclesiastes the kings are called tillers of the earth; not only because of the work they perform but also because of the protection they give. (Kindle loc. 2011-12)

Luther believes that the Genesis text itself indicates that Adam and Eve believed that Cain would be the one who would restore order and justice to the fallen cosmos. Adam and Eve’s assumptions are reflected not only in the names that they chose for their sons but in their given occupations as well:

Abel was given charge of the cattle, but Cain was directed to his father’s tasks in the cultivation of the soil as the better occupation. Abel is the shepherd; Cain, as the first-born son, is king and priest, who was born into the glorious hope of the restoration of all things (Acts 3:21). . . although by divine right the first-born enjoyed the prerogative of rule and priesthood, nevertheless they lost it, and those who were born later were given preference over them. (loc. 4933-34, 4941)

The hope is that Cain will crush the serpents head – the kingly role of the Messiah. The horrible reality is that Cain crushes his brother’s head instead.

Lest this be considered as exclusively a failure of politia, it must be noted that sinfulness is shown to have corrupted ecclesia and oeconomia in this instance as well. Cain’s worship is false worship because it proceeds from sinful, prideful presumptions. These presumptions are based in the way Cain has been raised by his parents – to think that he is the Chosen One, the Redeemer of the cosmos. He has been over-elevated rather than taught proper humility before the Lord.

For Cain it is not enough that he is the lord of the house; he also wants to be the Son of God; he wants to be the pope and the father of the church. . . Cain is the lord and ruler who does everything and has the power to do everything. (loc. 5109, 5115)

Cain is the opposite of what we today would call “limited government.” Government overstepping its bounds is nothing new. Cain superciliously thinks himself to be greater than those around him.

Cain so highly values his power that, when the Lord shows favor to Abel, he perceives this as a threat to his claim to power and is enraged. Cain goes out into the fields, the symbolic arena of his claim to lordship, and kills Abel there. Ironically, though Cain believes that this act is necessary to secure his right to rule, the act is in fact an abdication and a bowing of the knee to a different ruler: sin (Gen. 4:7).

Apostolic Ministry and the Spirit-Shaliach

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 14:00:00 +0000

Kenneth E. Kirk, in The Apostolic Ministry: Essays on the History and the Doctrine of Episcopacy, examines apostolicity through the Judaic concept of shaliach. T. F. Torrance writes a critical response concerning this same relation in Conflict and Agreement in the Church, Vol. I:

It is a purely legal relation or a legal representation – a clear example is given by Rengstorf in the instance of the man who uses a shaliach in order to become engaged to a girl by proxy . . . the whole New Testament doctrine of shaliach (if we are to use this word) is one in which the person of the shaliach retreats into the background, so that the living person of the risen Christ comes to the fore. (38)

Torrance then uses this imagery to describe Christ as shaliach, the apostles as sheluchim, and the Holy Spirit as the Spirit-Shaliach. First, regarding Christ and the apostles:

Shaliach referred to the man who speaks for God and acts for God in σημεῖα. It is supremely in that sense that Christ is the Apostle: He is the Word of God and the Act of God in an absolute sense. . . Christ sends out the disciples and seventy to proclaim the Word of God, and to heal. He sends them out in a special mission in which their word is accompanied by semeia. . . (39)

Then, regarding the Holy Spirit:

In the New Testament it is supremely the Holy Ghost who is the shaliach of Christ, and here the legal relation (Advocate-paraclete) is caught up in the relation of identity between Christ and His other Self, the Shaliach-Spirit. . . in the strict sense it is only the Holy Spirit who is Christ’s Shaliach – and even he is Shaliach in such a way that He does not draw attention to Himself or speak of His own Person, but speaks only of Christ. (40)

Finally, Torrance ties it all together:

When you ask the Fourth Gospel: What then is the relation of the apostles to Christ and His Shaliach-Spirit? it answers consistently by the thought of ‘abiding’, an abiding through the Word. Thus between the announcement of the Spirit-Shaliach and the description of the relation of the apostles as witnesses to Him, Christ discourses on abiding in His Word and Love. (40)

Here Torrance's strong view of the vicariousness of Christ in the historical salvation-event is apparent. Christ is the Apostle, and the Spirit is His Shaliach-Spirit. The apostles thus are apostles insofar as they participate in Christ's Apostleship, by abiding faithfully in Him in Word and deed through the Spirit. By abiding in Him, the apostles step into the background, and Christ is moved to the foreground. And this is only by the Holy Spirit, Christ's shaliach in "the strict sense." Thus Torrance's critique of Kirk: "To call a bishop a shaliach in this personal sense, to call him Alter Christus, is to quench the Holy Ghost, and really amounts to blasphemy." (40)

Shining and Testing

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 13:33:00 +0000

More Kuyper on the theologian and doctrinal development:

Scientific theology is of a practical significance to the Church. It carries, indeed, the end in itself, of causing the glory of God's truth to shine also in the world of our consciousness. But it is equally called to examine critically the confessional life of the Church, by ever and anon testing the confession of the Church by the principium of theology, i.e. the Word of God. (Principles of Sacred Theology 592)

So theology is reflective / contemplative and also self-critical.

Music Lost And Found

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 17:13:00 +0000

The relationship between music and theology is one of those topics that interests me on a someday-I'm-going-to-research-this level. Peter Leithart has written a stirring piece over at First Things titled "How the Church Lost Her Soundscape" and I highly recommend that you give it a read through. Here is a small taste:

Expertise is one of the values of modern culture, but expertise has always had a limited scope. We trust experts in physics and computer programming and perhaps foreign affairs. But the suggestion that there are experts in aesthetics, musicians who know what music one should appreciate, is greeted with hostility, also in the church. “I know what I like” stops every argument, buttressed by “Musical taste is subjective.”

Back in undergrad I had discussions with friends in which I argued that rap music really should not have a place in ecclesiastical worship. The discussions were always fun and futile, as they never went much of anywhere. Yes, Shep, you dislike rap music, just as the Roman Catholics disliked Luther's German pub hymns. Yes, Shep, this is just your subjective opinion - many people have been spiritually blessed by rap music. Not having the musical knowledge to counter these claims, I would let the discussion move on with a shrug.

For me, Leithart's article, while fascinating, raises many of the same questions. How do we argue for the use of one form of worship music over another in an objective fashion? How do we argue that "A Mighty Fortress" is any more beautiful than something produced by Lecrae? Can we legitimately make that argument? Isn't musical style in worship a matter of adiaphora? Would making an argument against the use of certain forms thus impose on the Christian freedom of others?

I do not have the tools at my disposal at this stage to proffer an answer. I suspect, though, that the answer lurks somewhere in the question of origins. In the past, liturgical music was theologically rooted - the music was an audial image that meant something.

Monophonic Latin chants, for example, emphasized the oneness of truth and of God. That musical style is perhaps indicative of the rigourous imposed uniformity of Roman Catholic worship - not something to emulate. This imposed uniformity at first tried to stifle "pagan" polyphony. Nevertheless, monophonic worship held value in the fact that it was intended to express theological / philosophical truths, even if its expression was ultimately in error.

Contemporary music, by contrast, is sourced not in theological principles at all, but rather in the vapid philosophy of pop culture. It should perhaps be no surprise that praise songs inspired by secular love songs should end up even lyrically sounding like love songs, the result being "Jesus is your girlfriend" music.

Rap music, sourced in cultural anger, angst, rebellion, and brutality, bears emotional and cultural meaning that simply does not mesh well with theological truths. Giving Christian lyrics to a form of music is not the redemption of that form of music, because the lyrics are not the music. The lyrics sit on the music like a saddle. They move with the music. But the man is not the horse.

In short, I suspect that the best forms of Christian music will be informed by theological principles and Biblical standards of beauty. As to how that all works out in practice, however, I have not the faintest idea.

In the Face of Ephemeral Excitements

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 08:40:00 +0000

Abraham Kuyper on the relationship between the theologian and Church tradition:

The theologian should not undervalue the confession of the Church, as if in it a mere opinion presented itself to him over against which, with equal if not with better right, he might place his opinion. The life of the Church, and the forming and reforming of her self-consciousness, is an action which is uninterruptedly continued. . . The scientific theologian may exert a corrective power here and there upon the confessional life of the Church, but this does not constitute him the man who sets this life in motion. That life pursues its own course, the stream of that life creates a bed for itself.

To the theologian, therefore, the confession of his Church does not merely possess the presumption of truth; it appears objectively before him clothed with authority: with that authority which the many wield over the individual, with the authority of the ages in the face of ephemeral excitements; with the authority of the office in distinction from personal life; and with the authority which is due to the churchly life by virtue of the guidance of the Holy Ghost.

It is not lawful, therefore, for him simply to slight this confessional life of the Church in order, while drifting on his own oars, to construct in his own way a new system of knowledge of God. (Principles of Sacred Theology, 591-592)

The Church is in development, or perhaps more accurately sanctification, regarding her whole life including her doctrine. Kuyper is not the only one to describe doctrinal development and the deepening of tradition as the deepening of a riverbed - Cardinal John Henry Newman does as well in his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine. The theologian must not think that it is he who sets this process in motion or oversees it, nor must he think that he has no important part to play in it.

Salvation Without Faith?

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 19:09:00 +0000

Awhile back I wrote on infant faith and baptism. My friend Adam Wiggins kindly directed my attention to a blog post by Baptist theologian extraordinaire Al Mohler on this very issue. In the blog post, titled "Salvation of the Little Ones", Mohler writes:

We believe that Scripture does indeed teach that all persons who die in infancy are among the elect. This must not be based only in our hope that it is true, but in a careful reading of the Bible . . . Each will answer “according to what he has done,” and not for the sin of Adam. The imputation of Adam's sin and guilt explains our inability to respond to God without regeneration, but the Bible does not teach that we will answer for Adam's sin. We will answer for our own. But what about infants? Have those who die in infancy committed such sins in the body? We believe not.

You can read the rest on his blog via the link above. Though I do respect him, I find Dr. Mohler's article unsatisfactory. First, I know Mohler believes in imputed righteousness, meaning that just being innocent is not enough to become an adopted son of God - we must become righteous in His sight. We must be united to Christ. We must be clothed in Christ.

The fact that babies in the womb do not commit sins of their own (presumably, that is) is a moot point. They still need Christ's righteousness, and the only way to get it is sola fide. A fetus' supposed inability to sin is thus no guarantee of their salvation.

Mohler's explanation also seems to me to flatten salvation to a purely forensic / legal exercise. Yet legal guilt is not the only thing keeping us from God - a severed relationship is as well. Humanity needs to be redeemed, adopted, sanctified, brought back. Mohler recognizes the need for Christ to remove the infant's original sin but seems to indicate that this just happens without faith being involved at all. Mohler has narrowed the question down to a mere issue of personal sin guilt, but there is much more involved than that. As a result, his treatment of the issue is incomplete and an oversimplification.

The C. S. Lewis In The Closet

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:57:00 +0000

Tim Challies linked today to an interesting blog post titled "Why Do We Love C.S. Lewis and Hate Rob Bell?" In the article, Michael Patton (Th.M. Dallas Seminary) admits that yes, C. S. Lewis holds to a lot of doctrinal views that evangelicals today would find offensive or erroneous. Yes, Lewis would probably not pass the ordination exam at your local evangelical church. Yes, he believed in purgatory, seemed to deny substitutionary atonement, denied inerrancy, seemingly believed in baptismal regeneration, and believed people could be saved without hearing the Gospel. Yes, many evangelicals might call Lewis a heretic.

Meanwhile, Rob Bell ~~believes in universalism~~ suggests that universalism might be true, but we cannot know this side of the eschaton. So why do evangelicals give Lewis a free pass on these "peripheral issues" while not doing the same for Rob Bell's one psuedo-issue?

Patton argues that it is because, for Lewis, the Gospel is always a central theme while for Rob Bell controversy is a central theme. I have not read any of Bell's work so I cannot vouch for the veracity of this distinction. On a cursory glance it seems overly simplistic. Even if the distinction is a valid one, however, I'd argue that it is not because of this distinct variance in emphases that evangelicals love Lewis and hate Bell.

It is inconsistent and markedly uncharacteristic for evangelicals to argue that issues like baptismal regeneration and substitutionary atonement are peripheral to the "essence of the Gospel," yet Patton argues this very thing here. Elsewhere these issues would be called challenges to the purity of the Gospel. C. S. Lewis certainly would not be speaking at "Together for the Gospel." A denial of Biblical inerrancy is enough to get Barth denounced as a heretic in many evangelical circles, yet Lewis and Bonhoeffer are given a free pass.

Patton suggests that Lewis' "problematic" views do not matter because they are not overt in his writings:

His purpose was clear: to defend the reality of God and the Lordship of Jesus Christ. All other things set aside, this is what you leave with every time you read Lewis. The problematic areas are peripheral, not central. One has to look hard to find the departures from traditional Protestant Christianity. They are not the subjects of his works and do not form the titles of his books.

What does Patton mean by "traditional Protestant Christianity"? Protestantism is a term that embraces a wide swath of denominations, some with more extreme views than others. Patton means "evangelical Protestant Christianity," but Lewis was never really part of that subsection of the Protestant tradition, so it is difficult to argue that he "departed" from it.

Lewis' "departures" are not the main subjects of his works because 1) he was not an academic theologian, 2) he was not writing works of systematic theology, and 3) he was primarily focused on apologetics and pastoral writings.

If Lewis had been writing a theology text you can be sure these issues would have been raised. He did not, however, so evangelicals suppose that they can detatch Lewis' writings from his other views without the two meeting or influencing each other in any way. Out of sight, out of mind. Of course, it should not work that way - theology is always interconnected.

Patton gives us two Lewises - the sanitized, acceptable Lewis, and the Lewis in the closet who we are to push out of our minds. Supposedly the two Lewis' have nothing to do with one another, and their theologies are not related. Evangelicals are ok with the Lewis in the closet (or wardrobe) so long as he stays quiet.

Patton continues:

What can Bell do about this? I seriously doubt he is looking for advice from me, but here is what I would do if I were his campaign manager. I would tell him to take his cue from Lewis. Focus most of your works on defending the foundational issues of historic Christian truth. Those things that have been believed “always, everywhere, and by all.” Whether it is the existence of God, the exclusivity of Christ, the inspiration of Scripture, or the sinfulness of man, these are all good points that give street cred.

Patton's advice is that Bell should simply mimic what has gone before. He advises someone who many evangelicals have called a "heretic" to play along with evangelicals so he can be found more acceptable in their eyes. Just pretend to be an evangelical and you can hold as many private "heresies" as you want. There is no need to be honest about one's personal theology. Not when your street cred is at state, Rob!

Martin Luther in his day was advised to toe the line with tradition and not challenge the Church. If evangelicals are willing to call substitutionary atonement a peripheral issue, why not add the doctrine of justification to the mix? Luther did not keep quiet, however, and for that evangelicals are thankful (This despite the fact that Luther, too, would probably not pass an evangelical ordination exam).

The reason evangelicals love Lewis and hate Rob Bell is because Lewis wrote some popular books on apologetics, wrote The Chronicles of Narnia, and hung out with J. R. R. Tolkien. Rob Bell has done none of those things. Rob Bell wears hipster glasses and writes in a touchy feely manner. Lewis was British and had wit.

The reason evangelicals love Bonhoeffer and hate Karl Barth is because Bonhoeffer died a martyr. Bonhoeffer is thus a hero of the faith.

Evangelicals are simply inconsistent. Certain persons both living and dead rise to the top as the chosen celebrities of evangelicalism, while others are cast aside. I say this as someone who grew up as an evangelical and still considers himself to be an evangelical. Christianity is a multifaceted diamond of a multiplicity of traditions. Evangelicalism needs to approach these traditions with consistency and some measure of gratitude for what these traditions have accomplished. It is overly simplistic to treat one theologian as a good guy and another as a bad guy. All orthodox theological systems have their own triumphs and errors.

Lastly, no one should brand a man a "heretic" if they are unwilling to apply the same label to their pet Christian hero who holds similar beliefs, or beliefs which are equally non-evangelical.

Barth on Prolegomena

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 12:48:00 +0000

Karl Barth, in Church Dogmatics I/1, writes:

Theological thinking which by the grace of God is truly responsible and relevant, and stands in true connexion with contemporary society, will even to-day show itself to be such by not allowing itself to be drawn into discussion of its basis, of the question of the existence of God or of revelation. On the contrary, it will refrain from attempted self-vindication as its theme demands, and thus show its responsibility and relevance by simply fulfilling itself as thinking on this basis, and therefore by simply existing as the witness of faith against unbelief.

In other words, theological thinking and writing do not need to justify themselves before the world on the world's terms, but rather are justified by their content. An apologetic prolegomena tends to skew a theological work to a polemical, reactionary tack. If theology is, as Barth says, the Church's self-examination, then theology could very well be a primarily contemplative rather than reactive endeavor. Oddly enough, Barth follows this persuasive statement with a prolegomena on theology and revelation, in what he seems to see as a post-Reformation necessity due to distinctions between Protestantism and Roman Catholicism.

Reformation Today

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 14:04:00 +0000

Reformed folk are not immune to Roman Catholic errors. The Reformation was driven by very pastoral concerns about a tyrannical ecclesial government hierarchy, an oppressive imposed Christian uniformity, and the spiritual mistreatment of the layperson. It may be tempting today, on Reformation Day, to point out logs in the Roman Catholic eye without noticing the same logs in our own eyes.

Abraham Kuyper writes in his speech "Uniformity: The Curse of Modern Life":

[Roman Catholicism] fatally opted not for a unity that would develop organically but for one that had be preconcieved and simply demanded conformity. Every free expression of life was silenced by the sword or funeral pyre, and every person who would not bend his neck under this yoke was cur off as a sectarian or thrust out as a heretic. . .

Its belief system had to be uniform, its government uniform, its liturgy uniform, its message to all regions of the world carried in one language, and life everywhere shaped by one model. . .

The Reformation broke up that false unity in two ways. . . [it] contained both national and individual resistance, which resulted in the uniformity of the Christian church being localized. Please note: I say that ecclesiastical unity was broken while ecclesiastical uniformity had only been tempered. For what have the churches of the Reformation done but restore the uniformity of Rome in their own bosom and in a different way?

Individual resistance, the right of personality and with it liberty of life, was smothered in our Reformed churches as well. Also among us, taking each nation by itself, you see uniformity in confession, uniformity in type of piety, uniformity in liturgy and government. Also among us Reformed people the stream of life was all too quickly frozen over by the frigid air of a formalistic uniformity. Here again, as in Rome before, unity did not develop organically but was imposed by force. (37-38)

I often hear the question raised: "Which is more important, truth or unity?" But of course the answer is both. The two only clash when Christians decide that the Church must be atomistically segregated into ever multiplying denominations and confessions of variations on Christianity. When the uniformity of our expression of the truth is imposed upon believers, then of course theological reflection, discussion, and continuing reformation cannot abide. We cease to be ecumenical, and cause ourselves to think that the Reformers were just dying for these doctrines, and not also for Christian freedom from spiritual bondage.

Unity and truth ultimately shattered their relationship in Roman Catholicism because the Roman Church believed that their tradition was infallibly and inerrantly true and that no other expression of Christian truth could be tolerated. Reformed folk, on the other hand, understand that human sinfulness and fallibility extends even to our theological reflections and confessions, and that the Church must ever be, as Barth says, in self-examination, semper reformanda, returning to God's revelation again and again.

This is not to undermine the importance of Church tradition, and to turn to the extremes of bible-onlyism. It is to say, however, that Church tradition has not always been uniform in the neat way that we might like, but instead has been a history of Christian expression in multiformity - believers all together growing toward the truth; tradition as a tree with many branches.

Let us celebrate Reformation Day, and not return to the ecclesial errors that the Reformers were running from.

The Next Step Was Fire From Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 09:45:00 +0000

T. F. Torrance, in his book Atonement: The Person and Work of Christ, writes concerning the apostles:

Hence [Christ] formed and instituted them into one body with Himself, calling them to take up His cross and deny themselves, that they might have their centre of unity not in themselves but in Him. . . As long before Elijah had gathered together twelve stones representing the twelve tribes of Israel to build an altar for sacrifice, Jesus gathered twelve living stones, such as Peter the rock, and built them round himself the lamb of God to be offered in sacrifice. (352)

Not Just An Echo Chamber

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 07:00:00 +0000

Herman Bavinck, in his Essays on Religion, Science, and Society, writes:

It is even surprising how little the principle of faith that people confessed was developed in different directions or applied to various areas of life in the centuries of orthodoxy. After a time of struggle, when a firm doctrine was established, there soon appeared a traditional dogmatics. Later theologians simply agreed with the earlier pronouncements and naively copied them. Hardly anyone felt a need for development. They rested on the laurels that the fathers had achieved, keeping what they had, but they did not sufficiently consider continuing reformation. That is why in our century there is so much for Reformed people to do, not only academically but also practically. (50)

Whether one agrees with Bavinck's historical construal of the role of theology in the "centuries of orthodoxy" or not, the salient point is still a good one: there is work to be done in the field of theology, not merely work that is preservative or repetitive (though these may be well and good), but also work that is developmental and dogmatically reforming.

The Pastoral Problem of Credobaptism

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 07:00:00 +0000

Schreiner

Thomas R. Schreiner, in the book Believer's Baptism, writes the following commonly-held credobaptist viewpoint: "It is difficult to see... how infants can fit with what Paul says since they cannot exercise faith." (77) Elsewhere in the book, Jonathan Rainbow speaks of the "common sense observation that infants cannot believe." (193) What are the pastoral ramifications of a view that infants cannot have faith?

If these things are true, then infants who die in the womb and even those who are born severely mentally disabled would certainly be damned. What could a credobaptist say to a family facing such a reality? What consolation can be offered? Salvation is, after all, by faith alone - not by faith alone unless you are a cute little baby.

Furthermore, if faith is an adult intellectual exercise, what all does that entail? How many adults can claim to fully understand the Trinity? This means that baby John the Baptist, in the womb, acted in a dually un-Baptist fashion - first in that he was dancing (heh), and second that the occasion was the presence of Christ the Word. It is common sense that infants can't spiritually react like that.

Making faith contingent upon intellectual capabilities defined by adults (who, by the way, cannot remember what their spiritual life was like in infancy) seems to me not only Scripturally ungrounded, but pastorally dangerous. Who is to say that the child of a believer, worked upon in the womb in the Holy Spirit, is unable to have faith just because he cannot express it in adult language? Is the Holy Spirit's power limited only to those who have passed a certain level of mental and intellectual maturation? Surely not.

So my question to you is: if you are a credobaptist, how do you deal pastorally with these issues? Do you disagree with Schreiner and Rainbow? I've raised some emotional issues here, but I'm not trying to be antagonistic or combative towards my Baptist friends - I am in fact genuinely curious how a credobaptist would go about pastorally addressing (while remaining theologically consistent) the spiritual situation of a family that has suffered a miscarriage or that is raising a mentally handicapped child in the Church.

In The Name of the Amen

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 10:30:00 +0000

"Amen" is more than a mere closing statement or spiritual thumbs up. The word in the New Testament becomes closely wrapped up in the Person of Christ.

T.F. Torrance takes note of this in his book Royal Priesthood: A Theology of Ordained Ministry:

Where word and event coincide there is truth (αληθεια). Thus God's Word is Truth where His Action corresponds to His Word. That is characteristic of man's word too, for his word is true where there is a relation of faithfulness between the speaker and the speaking of the word, and also between the speaking of the word and the hearing of it. When such a word is credited as truth it is confirmed with amen. Nowhere is that Hebraism so apparent as the in Apocalypse (Rev. 3:14) where Christ is spoken of as 'the Amen, the true and faithful witness.' (2)

This has rich implications. All the sacrifices and prophecies and preachings in the Old Testament, which the congregation assented to with "Amen," were ultimately validated, fulfilled, and made true by the work of Jesus Christ. That is, Jesus Christ made the Old Testament "amens" true. Jesus is the ultimate Amen.

When the Israelites said "amen" to the covenant promises, they stated that they believed and had faith in those promises. When God sent the Son, He sent His "Amen" to His people in return. He witnessed to His faithfulness.

When you pray "in Jesus' name, amen," that first bit, "in Jesus' name," is the foundation for why you are even able to declare "amen."

The Terror of Ordination

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 11:00:00 +0000

Peter Leithart, in Against Christianity, observes the history of what many term the "call to pastoral ministry":

Historically, a pastoral candidate's desires often had little to do with the Church's call to serve in pastoral office. Far from seeking out positions of leadership, the greatest of the church fathers resisted with all their strength. Augustine had to be dragged into the cathedral for his ordination to the bishopric of Hippo . . . Gregory the Great, so we are told by his earliest biographer, fled from Rome to hide in the woods when rumors began to circulate that he was being considered for bishop . . . Calvin was persuaded to remain in Geneva only because Farel's warnings made leaving even more terrifying than staying.

So common was such resistance that as late as the nineteenth century the patriarchs-elect of Alexandria were led to their ordination wearing shackles. (Kindle - 1504-12)

Compare this history to the reality of today, where many men feel "called" to pastoral ministry even when the Church has not officially called them or confirmed their calling. How many students today were found hiding in the woods and had to be brought to seminary in chains? Just because you got the warm revival fuzzies does not mean you have been called for pastoral ministry. A true calling is one confirmed by the Church.

Baptism and Gravity

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 10:00:00 +0000

George MacDonald, in The Light Princess, tells the story of a particular princess who has been cursed by a witch. This curse causes her to have no gravity. She must be guarded at all times to ensure that she does not fly away into the sky. The only time that she is really solid and weighty is when she is in water.

The princess is light both in body and spirit - she cares not for the things of this world; everything is a joke to her. She laughs at things that are not funny. She pursues random flights of fancy. The only time she seems to act remotely like a normal human being is when she is in the water.

In our materialistic age, some Christians might be tempted to extremes of psuedo-gnosticism, behaving as though material things are inherently bad, and as though the world is utterly worthless. This sort of Christianity is characterized by the hope that we shall fly away into some heavenly ether, and lacks an eschatological account of the new and redeemed creation.

But the baptismal waters should cause such notions to perish. On our head and shoulders falls tangible, real water. At the Eucharist we eat real bread and real wine. We are reminded that God is not concerned alone with the spirit, but with everything. Not the soul alone shall be renewed, but flesh and bone as well. Baptism buries us with Christ, in the earth (Col. 2:8-12). It keeps us solid. It gives us gravity. It keeps us from flying away into the ether of our flights of fancy; it keeps our feet on the ground of the world to which Christ will return.

Christian joy is of body and soul, heart and mind - when we rejoice in the Lord God and the blessings he has given, we do so as a whole human being. . . not as a girl with no gravity, who laughs at the slightest tingle of air, but a person who is solid. We are solid because we are buried with Christ; we will be solid still when we are raised in him on the last day.

Defending The Church, More Like

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 10:00:00 +0000

My bedside table book now for some time has been Defending Constantine by Peter Leithart. It is available on Amazon here. What follows is a brief review.

The book's title is somewhat a misnomer, and Leithart himself admits it was not his preferred choice. Leithart does not seem to be as interested in defending Constantine himself so much as he is in dismantling the notion, championed by John Howard Yoder and others, that there was a "Constantinian Shift" in Church history during his reign.

Leithart agrees that what Yoder calls "Constantinianism" is indeed a heresy, but he argues that Yoder has no historical basis for using Constantine's name to denote that heresy. Says Leithart, "Yoder is trying to wed two things that do not go together: a capitulation of the church to the world on the one hand, and an Anabaptist narrative of the Constantinian 'fall of the church' on the other." (316)

Leithart's book accordingly defends the Church at the time of Constantine. Defending Constantine is an ecclesiastical defense, not a biographical defense. Whether Constantine was truly regenerate, or whether he actually saw a Chi-Rho in the sky, is not so much the focus of the book. Leithart notes even Constantine's negative characteristics and actions, including the charge that Constantine murdered his wife and son. In short, the book is not a Constantinian hagiography.

Rather, much of the biographical sketch of Constantine in the early chapters focuses on what he meant to the Church. In the eyes of Christians, he was a Christian Emperor. It was Constantine who had ended the brutal persecutions of Christianity, and Constantine who had restored peace.

Constantine himself had numerous flaws, but Leithart refuses to adopt a cynical perspective of Constantine's reign. Constantine's accomplishments are great and many of them were to the benefit of the Church. He liberated the Church from persecutors, ended pagan sacrifices, and made much progress in the institution of just laws. With a careful analysis, Leithart shows that Constantine was not manipulating Christian sympathies as a power play. His actions are not fakery - Constantine believed himself to be a Christian, and to be carrying out God's will.

Citing Lactantius, Eusebius, and other historical sources, Leithart convincingly shows that Yoder's reading of the historical data has been colored by Anabaptist theological lenses, and does not accurately represent the ecclesiastical shifts that took place during Constantine's reign. The book ends with various critiques of Yoder's thought, many of which seem to serve more as appendices than final chapters. Leithart makes an argument against Yoder's construal of Christian pacifism, but the critique here is a cursory treatment of a topic that would perhaps better be addressed in a book of its own.

Those looking for a straight-up biographical account of Constantine's life might be disappointed (although that is certainly present in the early chapters). As a work on Church history and a reply to the historical claims of men like Yoder, however, the book is well worth reading. Leithart's discussions of both Constantine and Yoder are fair-handed and charitable, both praising their strengths and critiquing their weaknesses. Those interested in the relationship of Church and state would do well to read this book and interact with the arguments therein.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book, but I must finally mention a minor grumble: the book's formatting is at times awkward, with some pages ending with a new section heading and only one line of text. These sections should have simply been moved to the next page.

A Eucatastrophe

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 09:30:00 +0000

J. R. R. Tolkien, in a letter dated 7-8 November 1944 to his son Christopher, coins the word "eucatastrophe" (a mix of eucharisto and catastrophe) in an attempt to express what he regards as a crucial part of good fairy-tale storytelling:

"Eucatastrophe": the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. It perceives – if the story has literary 'truth' on the second plane (for which see the essay) – that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made.

And I concluded by saying that the Resurrection was the greatest 'eucatastrophe' possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love.

Of course I do not mean that the Gospels tell what is only a fairy-story; but I do mean very strongly that they do tell a fairy-story: the greatest. Man the story-teller would have to be redeemed in a manner consonant with his nature: by a moving story. But since the author of it is the supreme Artist and the Author of Reality, this one was also made to Be, to be true on the Primary Plane. (Letters)

Though Tolkien always maintained that The Lord of the Rings was not an allegory, it is clear that his fantasy writing was guided by such a view of good storytelling, a desire to provide "sudden glimpses of Truth". C. S. Lewis was reportedly brought to tears by parts of The Lord of the Rings, and in his own words he described the trilogy as follows: "Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron; here is a book that will break your heart."

Such beauty the Church encounters every Sunday, in worship and at the Eucharist Table.

The Sanctification of Tradition

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 07:53:00 +0000

My Master of Systematic Theology dissertation is now available for download in PDF format. You may also view it in your browser through Scribd.

The Sanctification of Tradition: John Henry Cardinal Newman’s Account of Theological and Ecclesiological Unity and Development, Assessed Within A Reformed Theological System

(PDF) (Scribd)

Note: It appears that the file upload/conversion to Scribd resulted in one or two small formatting issues, like the out-of-line "Newman's Concerns" in the Table of Contents.

To Live Is To Change

noreply@blogger.com (Shepherd) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 10:00:00 +0000

John Henry Cardinal Newman describes the history of Christianity in Incarnational terms in his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine:

Christianity differs from other religions and philosophies in what is superadded to earth from heaven; not in kind, but in origin; not in its nature, but in its personal characteristics; being informed and quickened by what is more than intellect, by a divine spirit. It is externally what the Apostle calls an “earthen vessel,” being the religion of men. And, considered as such, it grows “in wisdom and stature;” but the powers which it wields, and the words which proceed out of its mouth, attest its miraculous nativity. (57)

Such a description is appealing on a number of fronts, particularly as an address to concerns about inconsistencies, disagreements, and shifts in Christian doctrine through the ages. Says Newman: “In a higher world it is otherwise, but here below to live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often” (40). Newman hopes to affirm the authority, infallibility, and consistent identity of the Church while accounting for doctrinal changes and growth.

The problem I see with an Incarnational analogy for Christianity is that it fails to take into account an element present in doctrinal development and disagreements that was not and is not present in Christ's Incarnate life. That element is the reality of human sinfulness and depravity. Newman's account makes a misstep with its over-realized eschatology.