Footnotes from the Fongster

Remythologizing Theology

2011-03-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

I've finally just finished reading Kevin Vanhoozer's Remythologizing Theology (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2010) and I hope to be able to provide a summary and review of it at some point in the future. As for now, I'm just part exhilarated and part exhausted by the voluminous and sometimes quite dense writing of Vanhoozer (I wrote some outline notes along the way and they are 26 pages long!). But I thought I'll quote Vanhoozer's final paragraph on what it means to speak and do theology with the Holy God in our midst as a means of inspiring us!

"A divine voice speaks from the burning book: the interpreter stands on holy ground. The appropriate response is not cowering in terror... but the fear-of-the-Lord reflex of the faithful Israelite and covenant servant - Mary's "Let it be to me according to your word" (Lk. 1:38). Terror may be the right response to the unknown, but the name of the God who speaks in Scripture is "the Lord... merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness" (Ex. 34:6). This same Lord is the Author who has emptied - emplotted - himself in our midst, the triune God whose voice breathes out words that create, guide, challenge, console, and complete us. Only the communicating God can help." (p.504)

The Goal of Good Theology

2010-08-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

A good, humourous but yet serious reminder from Vanhoozer as to what good theology is all about... or rather, where good theology should lead us to. A good reminder for all aspiring theologians like myself!

"Success in theology is a matter of becoming right with God.

When one stands in right relation to God, all one's other relations are made right too. Knowing ourselves forgiven by God, we are empowered to forgive others. This too is part of our "lived knowledge" of Scripture. Indeed it may be no exaggeration to say that the ultimate purpose of biblical interpretation is to achieve right relationships: with God, with others and with oneself. After all, Christian truth is in the service of Christian love. If I speak with the tongues of Reformers and of professional theologians, and I have not personal faith in Christ, my theology is nothing but the noisy beating of a snare drum. And if I have analytic powers and the gift of creating coherent conceptual systems of theology, so as to remove liberal objections, and have not personal hope in God, I am nothing. And if I give myself to resolving the debate between supra and infralapsarianism, and to defending inerrancy, and to learning the Westminster Catechism, yea, even the larger one, so as to recite it by heart backwards and forwards, and have not love, I have gained nothing.

First philosophies eventually come and go. So do trends in theological method. I cannot predict what the next generation will decide is of first priority and importance.This one thing I do know: that there is no more vital task facing Christians today than responding faithfully to Scripture as God's authoritative speech acts-not because the book is holy but because the Lord is, and because the Bible is his Word, the chief means we have of coming to know Jesus Christ. Those who interpret the Bible rightly - those who look and live along the text, following the written words to the living Word - will have rightly ordered loves and rightly ordered lives. Indeed first theology matters precisely because it is tied up with our first love. The apostle Paul leaves us in no doubt as to either his first theology or his first love: "I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord" (Phil 3:8)"

Taken from First Theology (Nottingham: APOLLOS, 2002), 40-41

The Triune God and its implications for Theological Language

2010-06-05T06:15:00.000-07:00

In preparation for our annual Church Camp on the Doctrine of the Trinity, I have been reading Broughton Knox’s essay ‘God in Trinity’ from D. Broughton Knox Selected Works: Volume I The Doctrine of God (Kingsford: Matthias Media, 2000). Here’s an excerpt which has an interesting connection to a question raised in my previous post - can our theological language which comes through human words and language actually refer to and describe who God is? Is theological language univocal, equivocal or merely analogical?

Knox says this:

The doctrine of the Trinity helps solve another problem which troubles modern theologians. How is it possible that human language drawn from human experience can be an adequate vehicle for describing the ineffable God? Must all language be merely analogical when it is used to describe the realities of religion? That is a very popular view. Religious language is thought to be analogical and not direct description, but if this were true it would mean we have no sure knowledge of God, for we cannot be sure how an analogy fits unless we already know the object which the analogy describes-that is, unless we already know God, we cannot know whether analogical language fits the God of whom we are speaking. In other words, this line of thought means that we have no sure knowledge of God and this is a conclusion of much modern theology.

However, the doctrine of the Trinity reminds us that human life has been created in the image of God. Human relationships reflect the image of the Trinity. It follows that human language reflecting these human relationships is a suitable vehicle to describe God's relationships within himself and with humanity, for we have been created in his image and our relationships correspond to his relationships, for they are an image of them. It follows that when God chooses human language to describe his relationships, not only within himself but especially his relationships to us, he is not using analogical language but a direct description of reality, for the language being used is language drawn from the image of that reality. It is God who is using the language (for he is inspiring the prophet), and the vehicle that he is using (human language) is adequate, indeed exact, to describe what would otherwise be beyond our powers of knowing. Because we have been created in the image of God, the revelation of God to us becomes a possibility. We may know him truly through our own human language. [...] God reveals himself to us personally in a direct and literal and not merely analogical way, and so we are able to respond in a real and true way and enter into real personal relationships with God. All this follows from the fact that God is Trinity and has created us in his image, that is to say, to be relational, so that the language which describes our relationships is an adequate vehicle when used by God himself to describe the real relationships that he has within himself and with us. In other words, religious language is not analogical but direct and univocal (p.90-91, my emphasis)

Knox has provided us an interesting and important insight. If David Clark (from the previous post) provided us a philosophical reason for the univocal nature of language when it comes to describing God, Broughton Knox here provides us a theological reason. The overall insight is valid and important. But upon deeper thought, one realises that Knox’s argument works through various intermediary steps. God, in giving us the gift of language, has allowed that human language describes human relationships (univocally). Human relationships in turn reflect (though not fully or perfectly but truely i.e. univocally) God’s relationships within Himself and with humanity, since we are created in the image of the Triune God. Hence, human language ‘which describes our relationships is an adequate vehicle when used by God himself to describe the real relationships that He has within himself and with us’ (p.91). In another words, Knox’s argument really works based on a two-stage univocity. Human language describe human relationships univocally, and human relationships represent the inter-Triune and the Triune God-mankind relationships univocally too, hence human language can refer to the Triune God univocally.

I’m wondering if Knox’s argument can be further strengthened by the truth of the incarnation. The inter-Trinitarian relationships summarised by love and other-centredness and servant-mindedness (and Knox provides in his essay biblical references to show this) sees its climax in the incarnation of the second person of the Godhead, God the Son. Jesus comes and speaks to us these daring and totally amazing words, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him. [...] Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father [...].” (John 14:6-7, 9). Jesus here is saying when we know Him and relate to Him, we are relating to the Father as well (through Jesus enabled by the Spirit). The force of Jesus’ statement here is univocal. Jesus is not saying here that knowing him is different from knowing the Father (equivocal relationship), nor is he merely saying knowing him is like knowing the Father (analogous relationship), but He is saying knowing him is equivalent to knowing the Father (univocal relationship). In another words, it is through our knowing and relating to Jesus that we are brought into relationship with the Triune God. And how do we know and relate to Jesus? We know him through his words spoken, which by virtue of the fact that he is God the Son incarnated as man, means through his words of human language. There is of course the role of the Holy Spirit in reminding the disciples and illuminating and convicting us today of what Jesus had spoken, but the point remains clear – human words and language help us to know Jesus univocally, and knowing Jesus is knowing the Triune God univocally. The incarnation of our Lord Jesus arising from the doctrine of the Trinity grounds this truth.

Features of an Evangelical Theological Method - review of To Know and Love God by David Clark

2010-06-04T00:37:00.000-07:00

What does an evangelical theological method look like? One that is contextually aware and well-suited for the times we are in, as we sail our way through the waters of modernism into postmodernism? One that retains the best insights of theological methods influenced by modernism and yet incorporates the new insights brought about by postmodernism? This is the question that David Clark seeks to answer in his To Know And Love God: Method for Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2003). Clark works his way through different features or aspects of an evangelical theological method, and arrives at the following picture –

An Evangelical Theological Method should

1) Take into account what Clark calls the ‘Contextual Pole’ (the emphasis for theology to be connected to the cultural situation or other forms of human thought e.g. philosophy and reason) and the ‘Kerygmatic Pole’ (the emphasis of theology to be objectively grounded in faith and Scripture and ‘systems’). An evangelical Theological Method should hold onto both poles and work within the extremes of these two poles. The evangelical theologian should not be a ‘transformer’ – one who so emphasises the Contextual Pole that the truths of the gospel are compromised for the sake of cultural connection, nor a ‘transporter’ – one who simply transports theology straight from the bible without any regard or awareness of culture or influences from other forms of human thought. Rather, the evangelical theologian should seek to ensure that his theology is ‘contextually relevant in every mode of expression, yet shaped very fundamentally through essential connection with biblical revelation’ (p.57).

2) Recognise the Scriptures as uniquely authoritative in authorising both theological statements and moral commands. More than that, the authority of Scripture is first and foremost grounded in the ontological truth of God and his act of speaking, rather than in the church or the community’s reception of that Word. In technical language, the ‘ontological ground of the text’s authority is not the same as the epistemic acceptance of the text’s authority’ (p.65). In authorising the theological statements and moral commands (or in moving from Scripture to Theology), Clark also denounces principlizing – where Scripture is seen to be filled with universal timeless principles which lie beneath the narrative, cultural husks the words of Scripture find themselves in, and theology is all about extracting these principles and applying them to our new context. Instead, Clark calls for a nuanced version of narrative theology, where the whole Bible itself (with its different genres and narrative account), rather than just the principles, is seen to be the thing that authorises theology for living (p.96-97)

3) Be Contextually Relevant. In this regard, Clark discourages a decode/encode way of contextualisation which he deems in essence as a form of principlizing (p.112-13) and instead encourages a dialogical model for evangelical contextualisation, where from one’s culture with its own values, beliefs, practices and dilemmas, Christians raise questions and issues; they then take these initial questions to Scripture and allow a culturally relevant theology to emerge – at all times doing this with great humility and a keen eagerness to apply their discoveries to life while recognising the supreme authority of the Word of God to question and challenge their cultural viewpoints. This dialogical process is further extended to involve the “other culture” whether it may be a culture in a distant era of time or a far off place. The whole dialogical process continues and at all times, understanding of Scripture is deepened (p.114 and 120-21).

4) Have a foundation on which evangelical theology is built. In terms of this foundation, Clark rejects ‘strong’ foundationalism (or classical foundationalism which asserts something like ‘basic beliefs must either be self-evident, incorrigible, or evident to the senses’) (p.155-56); coherentism (where a system of beliefs is valid as long as the individual beliefs are coherent when they come together) (p.156-58), or pragmatism (where a system of beliefs is valid as long as it works!) (p.159-161). Instead, Clark espouses soft foundationalism, consisting of the following tenets (p.161-62):
• A kind of belief-foundationalism, which distinguishes between basic beliefs and non-basic beliefs. Basic beliefs are warranted directly in a variety of ways, while non-basic beliefs build on basic beliefs.
• Coherence is relevant to the warranting of beliefs, but is never sufficient to ground an entire web of belief.
• Unlike classical foundationalism, basic beliefs can be warranted despite they not achieving the same standards of self-evidence or incorrigibility as demanded by classical foundationalism. This means a person is justified prima facie in accepting many ideas when the justification is less than absolutely certain. Soft foundationalism also allows for its basic beliefs to be defeated if it turns out to be so upon further inspection.

5) Recognise because there is a larger unified narrative behind the various disciplines (Biblical Theology, Systematic Theology, Historical Theology, Philosophical Theology and Practical Theology) – that of God’s self-revelation in the totality of history – a unity of the theological disciplines is achievable (p.192). A good evangelical theological method recognises the uniqueness and diversity of disciplines; understands its own discipline’s horizon, and fuses that horizon with that of the other disciplines.

6) At its best be scientia that serves sapientia. Scientia refers to knowledge that is derived from a scientific way of exploring and discovering, while sapientia is godly wisdom directed to salvation and Christian living. A good theological method recognises both and does not see the two as contradictory but rather complementary – seeing theology as a means to the end of loving God is perfectly consistent with a robust interest in objectively correct (albeit an imperfect and incomplete) biblical descriptions of the object of our love (p.217). In another words, ‘theology is a science of God that enables faithful Christian followers to know God and to find spiritual wisdom’ (p.219). To this end, Clark espouses a five step method involving both scientia and sapientia – Engagement, Discovery and Testing, Integration, and Communication (p.232-44). Clark’s summary of the process is helpful:

Theology, then, includes both truth-discerning and truth-applying functions. Theology as scientia is concerned to tease out the best possible understandings of God, his will, and his ways. This happens as theologians appropriately pursue the discovery and testing phases in order to explore successively more adequate theological ideas, models, theories, and research programmes. This requires objectivity and critical testing. [...] Theology as sapientia functions to transform believers’ lives through integration, and Christians in turn influence people and communities through communication. [...] The second and third moments in theology yield understandings that genuinely reflect the Word and the world; the fourth and fifth moments use theological truth to influence affections, decisions and characters (p.244).

7) Be open to philosophical methods of analysis involving strategies for clarifying concepts, criticising assumptions, evaluating arguments, and constructing positive viewpoints. These analytic skills are helpful, though not sufficient for good evangelical theologizing.

8) Acknowledge that some genuine knowledge of an objectively existing spiritual Reality (in this case God!) is essential to evangelical theology, and that language while not capturing that reality fully, does connect to that objective reality. Clark espouses a minimalist account of correspondence, where language does refer to mind-independent state of affairs. It is a view which Clark admits is more of ‘an affirmation of an intuition than it is the development of a theory’ (p.381), for trying to prove truth beyond the category of intuition to more basic or fundamental terms will only result into hopeless circularity. Applying this concept to religious or theological language, Clark espouses a ‘carefully crafted commitment to univocity’ (p.393), where religious language speaks univocally (a word has exactly the same meaning in two different contexts) as opposed to speaking equivocally (the way a word is used in one context is entirely different from the way it is used in another) or by analogy (where a word or term as used in two different contexts communicate different senses, but yet the different senses are somewhat meaningfully related to each other). A commitment to univocity means that when a term is used to predicate of God the way it is used of man, e.g. ‘God is loving’, the meaning of the term as applied to God and the meaning of the term as applied to man are identical, though the mode or manner of expression of the two predications of a univocal term may different completely. But in the case of analogy, the meaning of the term as applied to God and the meaning of the term as applied to man are not identical, though they are similar. Finally, Clark also encourages us to see religious language as not only having its function in referring or describing, but through Speech-Acts theory, to see that it also has other functions and does other things. Saying things about the world is one thing language does, but not the only thing it does – or even the most important thing it does. Speech-acts also forms a link between theology or theological language as scientia and sapientia. Speech-acts as a way of understanding religious language

[...] shows how the language of Scripture, worship, preaching, spiritual formation, and moral instruction is sapiential. This language is intended to do something. As such, religious utterances of this sort do something other than informing listeners about reality. But they do relate to theology as scientia. Scientia is the language intended to describe spiritual realities truly. The purposes of sapientia – worshipping the triune God, transforming Christian character, building the spiritual community called the church, and fulfilling God’s call to evangelistic and social mission – these all involve the use of linguistic utterances of various sorts. But they require the background truth of theology as scientia (p.416-17).

Overall, the biggest contribution of To Know and Love God is to provide a realistic philosophical underpinning to evangelical theological method – one that draws the best insights of both modernism and postmodernism, yet without succumbing to the blind spots and weaknesses of either. It affirms critical realism (that there is a mind-independent objective reality); a minimal account of correspondence to religious language (that language is able to refer and describe this reality); epistemic humility (we can know truly though not exhaustively or fully), and theology that is rooted in scientia for the purposes of sapientia – that we may be truly wise, having ‘passionate love for God, genuine worship of the Trinity, true community with fellow Christians, and loving service in personal evangelism and social compassion – all to the glory of God’ (p.424).

Being on the pendulum of time - Reflections from Ecclesiastes 3

2010-04-13T21:10:00.000-07:00

As a church, we are currently reading the book of Ecclesiastes, and last evening, we read chapter 3.

Chapter 3 begins with a somewhat enigmatic poem (as per the rest of the book!)
NIV Ecclesiastes 3:1
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

The above poem covers every single activity or season that one can experience in life – from the activity of life and death (v.2a); to our constructive and destructive activities (v.2b-3); to our range of emotional activities (v.4), and also our range of activities as we relate to one another (v.5-8). Furthermore, the activities are listed such that they are polar opposites – the first activity of being born and the last activity of dying are listed together, killing and healing are listed together, being silent and speaking are listed together, and so on. At first glance, it seems like this passage could just be about the appropriateness of different activities for different times – there is a right time to plant, a right time to uproot etc. - i.e. this poem could simply be read as regarding ethical appropriateness in behaviour.

But I suspect more is stake, as shown by Qoheleth’s (or ‘The Teacher’) question: “What does the worker gain from his toil?” (v.9). This question is a key question that guides our interpretation of Ecclesiastes, having appeared in the beginning of the book (1:3) and one that appears regularly throughout. This question is really the question Qoheleth seeks to answer in the book of Ecclesiastes. When paraphrased, it goes something like this – “What do we gain from all the activities listed above? From the whole enterprise of life as captured by the activities and seasons listed above?” In another words, as Qoheleth finds himself and others caught up in the activities and seasons in the enterprise of life as listed above, he asks, “What gain is there?” As how my senior pastor puts it – as we find ourselves on the pendulum of time swinging from one (polar) activity to the next - what gain is there?

Qoheleth further reinforces this question by stating his observation of the burden God has placed on men (v.10). As we ‘swing’ through the pendulum of time in all its various polar activities, we can’t help but have an inkling that there must be something larger than this – that time (and life) must surely consist of more than just the polar seasons, that there must be a bigger scheme to it, that God must have stretched out time from its beginnings to its end. Yet, it is precisely this larger scheme that we cannot fathom, and this is what leads to us experiencing the burden Qoheleth talks about (v.10-11).

Isn’t it true – Qoheleth’s observation? As we go through the enterprise of life swinging from one activity to another - as we go from one birth to another funeral; as we attend one wedding and see another divorce among our friends; as we go through moments where we can’t even have a peaceful meal on the dinner table because of young children to moments where it seems all too quiet on the dinner table now that our teenage children have their own activities and are no longer present for family meals; as we hear of a loved one recovering from a sickness only to hear of another loved one contracting a deadly illness; as we read in the papers of promised economic growth only to have in the next moment that same newspaper report of an economic slump – as we go through all these polar activities in this enterprise called life, don’t we question and yearn for something larger? But yet we discover the very next moment that we can’t fathom what this larger scheme of things is with our own autonomous understanding and wisdom. O what a burden!

How then can we or should we respond to this burden? Qoheleth imparts his wisdom with his two ‘I know’ statements (v.12 and v.14). First, recognise that since we have no control over the seasons or activities we will find ourselves involved in this pendulum of life, seize and cherish every good moment, recognising such moments are a gift from God (v.12-13). Strangely, this lesson came across to me in an interesting way. As a family, we had a chance to travel up to Malaysia for a short break together with my parents and another family. Upon coming back to Singapore, I attended consecutively in the next two Fridays two funerals, both of which involved my friends’ fathers. As I stood there reflecting at the funeral, I was thankful for the holiday we had with my parents, especially with my father, for who truly knows when he will be here or when he will be taken away? My conclusion was only God knows, and on my part, I can but respond by cherishing every moment I have to spend with my father. Second, respond with reverence fear to the one who truly holds the bigger scheme of things in his hand, the one who truly orchestrates the one forward swing of the giant pendulum of time, from beginning to end (v.14-15). He is the one who from his perspective sees things that are as already have been; and for whom future things are merely what has been before. But most importantly, he is the one who can call the past things into account. We cannot do that, bring the past back to the present, but unlike us, that is something which God can do. In another words, I think the best words to capture this dual response is recognise our creatureliness and submit to our creator, seizing and recognising every good moment from him as a gift, and at all times, revering him alone who holds the bigger scheme of things of which we find ourselves being part of.

And that leads on to v.16, where Qoheleth talks about wickedness and judgement. While some commentators see this as a separate section, I see the two sections connected. Qoheleth here presents the third alternate response we can give to this burden placed upon us – this burden of being on the pendulum of time but yet not knowing where it is heading – and that is the wrong response of wickedness. Such a response is formed out of the wrong perception of fatalism arising from having the burden placed on us. We think that being on the pendulum of time is fatalistic and deterministic, that there is nothing we can do, and hence we indulge in wickedness. But Qoheleth warns us against such a response – there is judgement by God (v.16-17). For those who are wicked and proud, who think that we are masters of our time and our destinies with no form of accounting whatsoever, Qoheleth humbles us by reminding us of his observation that at the end of the day, we are just like the animals – death awaits us both (v.18-21). We are just like the animals – mere creatures – so recognise our creatureliness and respond appropriately in this pendulum of time we find ourselves on.

'Theodramatic Triangulation' as a Theological Method

2010-04-09T02:00:00.000-07:00

What is the nature of theology? Its subject matter? And hence, what is the befitting theological method to employ in doing theology that is appropriate to its nature? For those familiar with the works of Kevin Vanhoozer, one would anticipate his answer, “Theodrama!” In his essay ‘On the very idea of a Theological System’ (p.125-182 in Always Reforming: Explorations in Systematic Theology (ed. A.T.B. McGowan, Leicester: Apollos, 2006)), Vanhoozer considers some of the philosophical and theological difficulties with current theological methods, and provides a genuine attempt to show how theodrama could answer, albeit partially, some of the difficulties.

First, Vanhoozer draws our attention to the difficulties associated with current theological methods which rely on evidentialism and conceptual schemes. Here, he mainly interacts with the work of Donald Davidson, who attacks what he terms as one of the dogmas of empiricism, namely ‘the Kantian notion of conceptual schemes that organise and translate our raw, preconceptual sensory experiences’ (p.155). What Davidson rejects is this dualism of scheme (organising system) and content (that which awaits organisation). In his view, such a scheme-content dualism promotes scepticism (about whether we can actually get to the ‘given’ behind the scheme, or whether we are just getting the scheme itself) and relativism (where meaning and truth is only relative to a certain conceptual scheme). Hence, in Davidson’s view, conceptual schemes actually create a barrier between the subject’s mind – what is ‘in here’ – and the external world – out is ‘out there’ (p.156). Vanhoozer next mentions the work of Bruce Marshall as one who has applied Davidson’s proposal to theology. Marshall states that too much of theology has been done with what he calls an ‘epistemic dependence thesis’ – where theology becomes epistemically dependent on extra-biblical conceptual schemes in order to explain its truths of Christian doctrine (e.g. existentialism, process philosophy, Aristotelianism etc.) Rather, Marshall proposes theology should be done via the ‘epistemic independence thesis’ – where ‘theology must not interpret biblical narratives by means of some conceptual scheme but rather begin by assuming the truth of the biblical narratives as they stand’ (p.157). In another words, instead of explaining the events of the Bible in terms of some conceptual scheme, the events themselves acquire explanatory power with respect to everything else! Who falls into such a content-scheme dualism proposed by Davidson-Marshall? Vanhoozer himself states:

“Not only card-carrying empiricists, but a host of others as well: virtually all post-Kantian philosophers; most postmodernists; modern theologians searching for the right –ism; postliberal theologians who believe we are trapped within incommensurable cultural-linguistic frameworks. Charles Hodge’s approach seems to be another clear example of one who trades on the scheme-content dichotomy by distinguishing the facts (propositions) of the Bible and the laws and theorems (systems) that theologians devise to account for their relation.” (p.156)

Second, having posed the difficulties with the scheme-content dichotomy way of doing theology, Vanhoozer proposes what could be the way forward. He states, “The question before us is whether the subject-object dichotomy is the best way to account for how understanding takes place. This brings us back to Davidson; specifically, to his suggestion that understanding others is a three dimensional affair, a matter of ‘triangulation’.” (p.160) The problem of the subject-object dichotomy is that it either leaves the subject with the contents of his or her own mind only, or it leaves the community with their own conceptual scheme or cultural-linguistic framework only. In both cases, the problem is determining ‘how we can know a scheme is true to the content if we can never get outside our scheme to see the content as it is in itself’ (p.160). Rather, understanding requires three sorts of knowledge: of our own minds, of other minds and of the world. We know what our own words and concepts mean only by triangulating with other language users about our shared world. Triangulation hence coordinates beliefs, words and actions; and understanding arises when two speakers coordinate their beliefs and practices with the world through communicative interaction, through language. Indeed, communicative interaction is the key in triangulation.

Third, having suggested triangulation as a better way of accounting for understanding rather than the subject-object dichotomy, Vanhoozer moves on to take the conceptual step from the notion of general to ‘special’ (in this case theological) triangulation and proposes his main thesis – the best systematic is a matter of theodramatic triangulation with an authoritative script (p.164). He moves to this thesis via various steps. First, the nature or subject matter of theology is theodramatic in nature – it involves God doing and saying things in the world to and for others. Vanhoozer states:

“The Christian gospel is something God both says and does. It is not a philosophy, a system of morality nor an expression of human subjectivity, but a theodrama: God’s words and deeds on the world stage with and for us, especially with respect to creation and redemption as these are summed up in Jesus Christ. […] The theodrama begins with God bespeaking creation. The plot accelerates with God’s promise to Abraham: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you… and by you all families of the earth shall be blessed’ (Gen 12:2-3). It continues with God making good on his promissio thanks to the missio (sending) of Son and Spirit.” (p.164-65)

And not only is the nature of theology theodramatic in that it involves God saying and doing things, it also involves us humans having speaking and acting parts too. We not only make sense of what God has done but also of what we are to do in order to participate rightly in the action. As Vanhoozer states, “Theology is a human endeavour (the drama of human knowing) that prays to be caught up in a prior divine endeavour (the drama of God making himself known).” (p.165)

Second, theodrama involves triangulation. It is itself an instance of triune triangulation. The way God reveals himself is best not described in terms of the subject-object dichotomy (God is not the ‘object’ of human experience or investigation), but rather communicative interaction. God makes Himself known by what He says and does to us on the world stage. Consider the incarnation as the supreme example of God’s communicative interaction seen in triangulation: ‘the Word speaking words, acting and suffering with and for others, in the world’ (p.165). Theodramatic understanding also requires triangulation, because in understanding, we constantly relate the three sides of ‘what God does in Christ, the Scriptures that present Christ, and the Word-and-Spirit-guided practices of the church, the body of Christ’. Another way of putting it, theodramatic understanding involves triangulating between divine and human action and speech with reality made new in Christ, so that the church today can participate fittingly in the ongoing drama of redemption. Theodramatic triangulation hence involves Word (or Scripture), church and world.

Third, while theodrama involves triangulation, epistemic priority is given to ‘what God says in and through the biblical text’ – it has the privileged place in the triangle. And the Bible has epistemic primacy not because it acts as an epistemic foundation (either a ‘storehouse of facts’ or a deposit of propositional revelation), but because of ‘its nature as the church’s authoritative script, the normative specification for interpreting what God is saying and doing in creation, in the history of Israel, and in Jesus Christ’ (p.168). In another words, the doctrine of Scripture is correctly grasped when viewed not separate but closely related to the events it recounts, displays and enjoins. The Bible is the means and medium of God’s communicative interaction with the church – He speaks ‘in and through’ the Scriptures. And as He speaks ‘in and through’ the Scriptures, two levels of triangulation occurs. The first (Triangulation I) is at the formation of the canon, resulting from the Spirit’s triangulation of language, belief practices and reality – the Spirit leads the human authors into communicative interaction with the mighty acts of God and a true understanding of these acts and the reality it has brought about. The second (Triangulation II) is where the Spirit continues to be active in the contemporary church’s attempt at theological triangulation – the Spirit ministers the truth of the reality brought about by Christ through the inspired biblical discourse to the church in the world today. But Triangulation II is dependent on Triangulation I or (another way of putting it) - canonical triangulation is the norm for ecclesial triangulation. As Vanhoozer states, “While both Scripture and the church’s interpretation are components in the triune economy of communicative action, only the biblical discourse carries epistemic primacy.” (p.172)

Vanhoozer has provided in the essay a genuine attempt to explore the nature of theology and hence the best way of doing theology. Out of his works that I have interacted with so far, he has also provided his most rigorous defence of theodrama as a theological prolegomena in this essay, going all the way down to analytical philosophy in terms of the way language and understanding works and its epistemic implications. While his overall argument is clear, I still have one remaining outstanding question – what is the place Vanhoozer allows for conceptual schemes in his theodramatic triangulation proposal? If he goes all the way with the Davidson-Marshall proposal, then I really do not see how theodramatic triangulation involving communicative interaction can work, because such communicative interaction and exchange also takes place via conceptual schemes (This is also the question I have for Bruce Marshall – how exactly does one allow the ‘narrative emplotment’ of the events in the bible to provide explanatory power to everything without resorting to some form of conceptual scheme? And here is where I confess I will have to read more of Davidson and Marshall). How do we have communicative interaction and understand that communicative interaction without some prior conceptual scheme of sin, salvation, hope, eschatology etc.? If it is the pure distinct subject-object scheme-content dichotomy way of doing theology (where the conceptual scheme stands unbendable and unchangeable to categorise the content) that Vanhoozer is objecting against, then I can understand his polemic and concur that indeed, triangulation involving communicative interaction is a better way of doing theology that is closer to its nature. But if it means a total disregard of conceptual schemes at all, then I really have difficulty seeing how theodrama triangulation works in practice. But there are hints that it is more of the first objection that Vanhoozer is concerned with. Firstly, he states his reservation regarding Davidson’s holism and his way of going beyond realism (p.156 fn. 135). Secondly, he states the purpose of doctrine within theodrama triangulation as ‘direction for the church’s fitting participation in the ongoing drama of redemption as normatively specified in Scripture’. Doctrine, under this definition, must surely involve conceptual schemes and propositional statements, though not being totally exhausted by them. Thirdly, Vanhoozer states in a footnote that ‘his own preference is for a modest, chastened, ‘fallibillist’ foundationalism in which one employs basic beliefs on a provisional basis. We begin not with indubitable foundations but with load-bearing frameworks that from time to time may need adjusting and repair’ (p.152 fn. 125). I would like to think that Vanhoozer’s comment extends to the place of conceptual schemes in theodramatic triangulation discourse – we employ these conceptual schemes on a provisional basis, and as we undergo triangular communicative interaction at all times holding onto the primacy of Scripture – we allow these conceptual schemes to be challenged and changed.

Putting the question aside, all in all, Vanhoozer’s conclusion in this essay captures well his firm conviction why theodramatic triangulation produces a theological method more befitting to its nature and subject matter:

“The way forward is clear: theology must focus not on producing theoretical systems of knowledge but on cultivating disciples who learn and embody practical wisdom. And the best way to do that is to approach the bible not as a knowing subject, but as one who walks the way of Jesus Christ with others, triangulating our position by attending to the Spirit speaking in the Scriptures, to the church’s great performances of the past, and to the church’s situation today.” (p.182)

History and Hermeneutics

2010-04-01T07:22:00.000-07:00

What is the relationship between history and theology? How does our understanding of history suffer in not having a theological account of history? And vice versa, how does our theology suffer when we go about carrying out our theology ahistorically? These are the questions that Murray Rae, theology lecturer at University of Otago, seeks to answer in his History and Hermeneutics (London: T&T Clark, 2005).

Rae begins in the 1st two chapters by covering the overview of the history and current status of the relationship between theology and history as it is in the areas of historiography and theology. He summarises the thoughts and contributions of Descartes, Spinoza, Hermann Reimarus, G.E. Lessing, Hegel, D.F. Strauss, Ernst Troeltsch and the Jesus Seminar under the field of historiography, and the thoughts of contributions of Martin Kahler, Rudolf Bultmann, Karl Barth, Ernst Kasemann, Oscar Cullmann, Wolfhart Pannenberg, Hans Frei, and N.T. Wright under the field of theology. His conclusion is that largely, there has been a divorce between historical and theological study, and that this divorce takes two forms –

“The first seeks to protect theology from the alleged vagaries of history, while the second seeks to protect history from the allegedly ephemeral and speculative claims of theology. Both strategies are premised on the conviction that history and divine action are mutually exclusive categories and that it is improper, therefore, at least in academic circles, to speak of God’s participation in the unfolding nexus of historical life.” (p.4).

The divorce is seen especially in biblical studies, where in the first form, the Christian faith is sought to be set free from the historical narratives of the Christian faith such that its essence is not dependent on the truth or falsity of the New Testament’s historical claims (e.g. Bultmann and his account of resurrection). The second form is the reverse where history is sought to be set free from faith such that the Gospels must be purged of their dogmatic content in order to lay bare the truth of who Jesus really was (e.g. the Jesus Seminar). Rae suggests that even those who attempt to bring historiography and theology together in their prolegomena risk establishing one on the other, and hence in that way actually rendering them asunder (e.g. N.T. Wright who privileges and founds his study of historiography-theology in the fields of ‘autonomous’ historical enquiry alone; or Hans Frei who commits the ‘opposite’ error in not extending far enough the results of his historiography-theology study to give critical attention to ‘what history is’, even reworking the concept of history if necessary).

That is the task Murray Rae undertakes in chapter 3 – to give a theological account of history. And to begin to do so, Rae turns to the Bible, for “the Bible is a theological account of history. It is an account that is shaped by the conviction that all that takes place does so within the context of God’s providential care [and may I add, God’s involvement] for the created order” (p.49). While the tradition of Western historiography which privileges a secular account of history and dispense with any divine involvement of God may lead one to think that Rae’s starting point is ill-founded, Rae is right in stating that there is no a priori basis upon which to decide whether God has or has not acted. Rather, we should reckon with the conviction of Israel that ‘its own history as a people is inaugurated by God and is shaped throughout by God’s action’ and not just simply dismiss this claim in advance! (p.50).

With the above working assumption in place, Rae turns to consider the opening move of creation ex nihilo and its implications for our understanding of history. Here, he refers to the work of Colin Gunton and states three implications: Firstly, that the world was brought forth by God ‘out of nothing’ implies that God creates with some purpose in mind and that the world is invested with a telos. History, then, can be understood as the ‘space and time opened up for the world to become what it is intended to be’ (p.51). Secondly, the idea of creation out of nothing means the world is fully God’s world. A Manichean view where history is seen as a struggle between opposing forces is thus ruled out, and instead history is ‘confessed to have an overall coherence under the creative, providential and redemptive care of God’ (p.51). Thirdly, the creation of the world should be seen as the act of the Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and ‘because God is already, ‘in advance’ of creation, a communion of persons existing in loving relations, it becomes possible to say that he does not need the world, and so is able to will the existence of something else simply for its own sake’ (p52 quoting Gunton). The further implication flowing from this truth is that human action is given value in its own right and is not simply the necessary unfolding of God’s own being. History and human responsibility go hand in hand, and conversely this means that human action requires some notion of the purpose of history as a whole to evaluate it ethically. But human action does not negate God’s sovereignty. That creation is a triune act enables us to speak of God’s continuing action in the world via His son becoming incarnate in the midst of history and His Spirit poured out on all flesh. At the same time, God’s sovereignty also does not negate human action – human agency in history is directed toward the fulfilment of the divine purpose. Rae states it well:

“We have observed […] the biblical conviction that God enlists human participation in the working out of his purpose. Again, it is in Jesus Christ that such participation reaches its fulfilment – his human life of obedience to God, his death, his resurrection and his ascension, is the series of events that truly make history. It is through Christ that God restores the world to its true purpose. By sending then his Holy Spirit, who bestows gifts and fruits for truly human life, Christ ensures that our own human action may become, under the impact and empowerment of that Spirit, a like participation in God’s purpose.” (p.54)

God himself is bringing creation to its goal, and that lays the foundation to our theological understanding of history where history is seen as the time and space opened up for creation to be what God intended to be. It is the action of God that gives history its purpose and directs it towards its goal. The actions of God are seen in the divine promise given (Gen 12:1-3) and climaxed in the incarnation and resurrection of Christ, and it is from Christ that history defines its meaning and telos. Rae again on this:

“The resurrection of Jesus from the dead is God’s vindication of this man and his history as the means through which participation in his coming kingdom is opened up. We may say therefore that through the death and resurrection of Christ God’s action makes history. It is through the series of events that make up the life of Jesus of Nazareth that creation’s destiny is secured and its meaning revealed. [... It is] the event in the midst of history that secures the fulfilment of God’s promise and brings creation to its goal.” (p.61)

And that’s what Murray Rae goes on to do in chapter 4 – to look further into the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Against the common thinking in historiography that belief in the resurrection renders the evidence of the Gospels problematic one way or another, Rae advocates the opposite: “The resurrection is that which enables us to see the history of Jesus aright.” (p.67) But yet Rae concedes that ‘seeing’ the resurrection is not possible within the prevailing canons of historical-critical enquiry, not because the resurrection is not an historical event, but because historians have construed history as a causal series from which God is excluded. Instead, seeing the resurrection is only possible by faith – under the impact of the reality of the risen Christ himself. In another words, ‘seeing’ the resurrection is only possible by grace, and is dependent upon the self-disclosure of the risen Christ himself (Rae himself provides an insightful exegesis of Luke 24 in p.80-84 to substantiate his point). But seen in light of that reality, the resurrection is seen as a definitive event – it is the decisive clue in understanding who Jesus is. Taking the lead from Pannenberg, Rae contends the resurrection not just reveals what is true of Jesus anyway, but the resurrection itself is constitutive of Jesus as the Messiah – constitutive of Jesus as the one in and through whom God brings about his new creation. “Only the Easter event determines what the meaning was of the pre-Easter history of Jesus and who he was in relation to God.” (p.76 quoting Pannenberg). More than that, the resurrection is also transformative and eschatological – transformative in the sense that resurrection bursts the bounds of the present order and transforms our understanding of history itself. And eschatological in the sense that right now in the midst of history, there is a foretaste of what is to come. And not only foretaste, but an actual participation in that reality and making of history.

“For it is the Spirit who unites us with Christ and enables our life now to be a participation in the making of history. The history that we now live matters because if lived in the power of the Spirit, or not, it is gathered, or not, into that final consummation of all things that is the kingdom of God.” (p.79).

At this point, the discerning reader may realise that Rae’s theological account of history is circular – it requires one to be under the ‘reconstrued’ reality of history brought about through the resurrection event before one can appreciate the theological account of history! In another words, a theological account of history requires faith! And this is the premise that Rae goes on to defend in the next two chapters – to defend his prolegomena of the theological account of history given by him. In chapter 5, he challenges the common view in historiography that telling the truth about history is merely a reporting of what would have been apparent to the naked eye, and instead advances ‘an account of ‘seeing’ that has less to do with ocular perception and more to do with comprehending what has taken place’ (p.86 his emphasis). Rae contends that all interpretation of history require historical judgements, and that all historical judgements are selective, approximate and provisional in nature, and are conditioned by one’s background beliefs about the way the world is constituted. In another words, the perception of historical reality is ultimately a hermeneutical activity. Belief helps us to see. And because the resurrection does nothing less than call our existing worldviews into challenge by presenting a new conception of history and God’s involvement in our world, we will never see the resurrection rightly unless God first enables us to. By our natural selves and on our own, we will be kept from recognising the risen Christ because that reality is one which contradicts our entire natural conception of how the world is constituted. “What is required is conversion, a new way of seeing that takes its starting place from the reconfiguration of things brought about through the incarnation, and through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.” (p.103) In chapter 6, Rae confronts the widespread contemporary prejudice in theology and biblical studies against the reliability of testimony and the authority of tradition, suggesting that such prejudice originates from rationalism. Instead, he rehabilitates and infuses confidence back into an epistemology derived from testimony and tradition, suggesting that the testimony itself is the fruit of sustained critical reflection on the meaning and implications of Jesus of Nazareth, while the passing on of the testimony through tradition in turn validates the authority of the testimony (p.130).

In the final chapter, Rae discusses the topic ‘The Ecclesial Reading of Scripture’. While seeming to stand apart from the rest of the argument of the book thus far, my guess is that Rae includes this chapter as a means of rounding up his argument – if a theological account of history depends on Scripture, which in turn is influenced by how we read Scripture within the realm of faith against the backdrop of testimony and tradition, then the community of faith will be the primary and normative locus for the interpretation of the Bible. Rae begins by discussing the concept of ‘meaning of the text’, advocating neither a determinate meaning (the form of interpretation which sees only a single meaning inherent in the text) nor an indeterminate or anti-determinate meaning (the form of interpretation which seeks to deconstruct established interpretive certainties in the name of the excluded ‘other’), but instead going for a definition of meaning where meaning is not reducible to a property of the text independent of its relation to context, but rather arises out of that text’s relationship to the context, and more rightly so contexts which the text finds itself speaking in. Because the people receiving the word ultimately is one community – the church, be it the Jew or the Gentile, there is only one common community as the receiver of the word. But this community spreads across time and space, and hence arises for the multiple level of contexts the text speaks in, all of which are integrated and interdependent in some way (p.131-134). In another words, Rae’s definition of meaning is dependent upon the text’s relation to its context or circumstance. While this leads some to wonder if there are any limits and controls to Rae’s definition of ‘meaning’, and how we can know if a reading is legitimate or not, Rae answers his own question by stating that any meaning in order to be legitimate has to be answerable and accountable to the ‘role played by the text in question within the book from which it is taken, within the collection of books that is the canon, within the community that has bound these books into its Bible, and within the worldwide community that is constituted precisely by the acceptance of and participation in the biblical story of God’s dealings with his people’ (p.135). In another words, the legitimacy of the meaning of a text is determined by its relation to the divine economy – the singular reality that constitutes the unity of the Bible! This is why readings of the bible which justify apartheid or national socialist readings are erroneous – they cannot conform and are irresponsible to the divine economy. This is also the controlling factor that distinguishes Rae’s definition from the anti-determinate definitions – such anti-determinate readings have no such control! But Rae is realistic – he recognises that such a definition does not serve as a method to avoid errant readings, but rather for identifying them when they occur. Ultimately, the different contexts should really be seen as different levels of an ever-broadening context showing the unfolding story of the relation between God and his world. Rae states:

“In the end, God defines himself through this story, and supremely so through the incarnation of his Word. It is in the event of incarnation worked out through the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth that the meaning of the story, and thus of the diverse partial telling of the story, is once and for all disclosed. […] The meaning of the text is thus a matter of the role it plays in this story of the God who goes his way among his people and who, through His Word and Spirit, gathers all things and successively embraces countless ‘others’ into reconciled communion with himself. This is the overarching context in which the meaning of the text is to be discerned.” (p.139-140)

This is why ecclesial reading of Scripture is normative, rather than just one among many options. For it is in the community of the church that we are not just the readers of the text, but we are actually participating in the reality of which these texts are speaking about! This is why the church is privileged in our reading and interpretation, not because we are any smarter or more enabled in our own resources, but because we the church exists and does all our reading of Scripture ‘predicated upon the grace and faithfulness of God’ (p.150).

Overall, Rae’s History and Hermeneutics is a book worth reading, and one which commends much to reflect upon. Though it is relatively brief (about 160 pages), it is packed with ideas and discussion on prolegomena, the concept of historiography, doctrines of creation, Christology, eschatology, and hermeneutics, all held together by the truth of this God who has created the world and who continues to be involved in providential care of it, and whose involvement reaches its climax in the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus, and the pouring out of His Spirit which genuinely grounds the authenticity of human action under the sovereignty of God, and opens our eyes as the church to see this reality as the world heads towards God’s intended purpose for it. This is what gives history and existence meaning.

Scripture informing Jesus?

2010-03-05T23:47:00.000-08:00

We are familiar and affirmative of the relationship between Jesus and Scripture as one where Jesus fulfils Scripture (Matt 5:17). Jesus is the one whom Scripture’s characters, images, and promises point. As Telford Work in Living and Active: Scripture in the Economy of Salvation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 168, states, “[Jesus] makes Scripture intelligible. With Jesus’ arrival, the tables are turned and the man becomes the new context for the biblical text.”

But Work suggests that the relationship is more than just one-way. In as much as Jesus fulfils Scripture, Scripture also informs Jesus. The ‘biblical Word is instrumental to the incarnation of the logos. Canonical Scripture plays an indispensable part in Jesus’ human formation’ (p.168). Here’s an extended quote from Work which highlights his point:

“Obedience names Jesus’ respect for the will of the Father (John 6:38-40). Jesus’ obedience takes concrete shape as obedience to Scripture. As a child of the covenant, he humbly accepts God’s total claim on his life. As the creator of Israel becomes a son of Israel, so the creator and content of Israel’s Scripture grows up obedient to Scripture (Luke 2:41-52; John 6:38). In Jesus’ life Scripture acts as the revealer of God’s will for humanity and for the Son of Man. It commands Jesus’ obedience and so defines his mission. The Tanakh reveals the Father’s will for Jesus’ career like no other institution in Jesus’ world.

[...] Jesus is not only the antitype of the Old Testament’s predictions and pointers. [Tanakh] does not simply map out a course that leads others to him. The Tanakh discloses Jesus’ significance to others because it firsts discloses Christ to himself. In the Tanakh, the written Word encounters the incarnate Word. Jesus listens to the voice of the Father, and hears – himself.

Did Jesus know at some point in his itinerant ministry that he was Israel’s Messiah? [...] If Jesus’ self-awareness was an effect of his anointed prophethood [...] and not merely of his status as incarnate Word, then it was also in large part a function of Jesus’ relationship with Scripture. N. T. Wright traces likely indications of Jesus’ messianic self-awareness in the Gospels, and concludes that Jesus’ baptism is as likely an inauguration of messianic consciousness as any. And at the center of Wright’s speculations is the fact that if Jesus became aware of his own messiahship, he did so on the basis of the Tanakh’s descriptions of his messianic anointing. If the earthly Jesus knew he was Messiah, he knew it from his own exposure to Scripture.” (p.170-171)

Food for thought there by Work. Regardless of whether one agrees or not, one effect of Work’s proposal is that it serves to reinforce the doctrine of Scripture (here, Old Testament Scripture) as God’s Word. If Scripture is central in informing Jesus’ awareness and understanding of his messiahship, then the view that Scripture is merely a ‘witness’ to the Word incarnate is too weak a view to substantiate how Jesus viewed Old Testament Scripture. Rather, what we seem to have is as Work puts it ‘the written Word encountering the Incarnate Word”. As how Work states it further in his book, “Scripture is Jesus’ heritage, his horizon, his formation, his practice, his authority, his instrument, his medium, his teaching, his crisis and vindication, his witness, his confession, his community, and his glory. The Bible is the very language of the Messiah.” (p.212)

Robert Jenson and 5 perspectival points on reading Scripture

2010-02-10T23:33:00.000-08:00

In his essay ‘Scripture’s Authority in the Church’ in The Art of Reading Scripture (ed. Ellen Davis & Richard Hays; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 27-37, theologian Robert Jenson offers 5 perspectival points for reading Scripture. I shall try to summarise them:

1) The church needs to remember that our attitude and approach to the Bible will be very different from that of the world. It is only the church that gathers together to hear what is said in the Bible and submit herself under its authority. Jenson states, “What Christians call the Bible, or Scripture, exists as a single entity because – and only because – the church gathered these documents for her specific purpose: to aid in preserving her peculiar message, to aid in maintaining across time, from the apostles to the End, the self-identity of her message that the God of Israel has raised his servant Jesus from the dead.” (p.27) Therefore, the church needs to be blatant and unabashed in reading Scripture for the church’s purpose and within the context of Christian faith and practice - a reading guided by church doctrine (p.28)

2) We need to recognise the narrative unity that is present in the Bible. The gospel is a message about an event – the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus – and so itself has the form of a narrative. In another words, what is present in Scripture as a unified whole is narrative unity, and the church should read Scripture recognising ‘the single plotted succession of events, stretching from creation to consummation, plotted around exodus and resurrection’ (p.29). This means that ‘in the church any passage of Scripture is to be read for its contribution to the telling of Scripture’s whole story’ (p.29).

3) Not only is there a narrative in Scripture, it is an over-arching narrative. “Scripture’s story is not a part of some larger narrative; it is itself the larger narrative of which all other true narratives are parts.” (p.34). As Jenson highlights, this means that ‘not only is Scripture within the church, but we, the church, are within Scripture – that is, our common life is located inside the story Scripture tells.” (p.30). This in turn means that certain ways of construing scriptural authority is not right. We must not think of Scripture as an information base for some entity outside the story – be it God or classical religious experiences or theological history of Israel or the primal church – since we are living in that story, there is no position from which such a ‘third-party outside view’ can be conducted. This also means that we must not think that before we can apply the Scripture passage to us, we first have to grasp it insofar as it is not about ourselves. While a proposition of Paul or the story of Samson happens in its community, we stand on the same line of continuity as the common community of interpretation. Positively, Jenson advocates a playwright analogy of understanding Scriptural authority. He suggests: “Scripture is authoritative for us, as characters in the story that it tells, somewhat as the existing transcript of an unfinished play is determinative of what can be true and right for its characters in the part that remains to be written.” (p.32). Sounds Vanhoozer-ish at this point? But there are differences. Jenson suggests that the third act is not written, but ‘when he does, he will do it as the same author who wrote the first two’ (p.32). I believe Vanhoozer would not agree with this or he would put it in a different way – the Script is complete, the final act is penned down and the whole drama is awaiting its final end and conclusion, though the performance is still going on and heading towards that direction. But both Jenson and Vanhoozer agree on this – The grand story told in Scripture is not only the story of the characters created by the author but is also the story of the author as a character in his own play. The story is also fundamentally God’s story. The end state of this hermeneutical perspective – “Scripture is not a set of clues from which to figure out God, for the story it tells is itself the truth of God.” (p.33)

4) Since we now live the story Scripture tells, Scripture does not merely inform us, but when we read Scripture in the church, Scripture addresses us. And the voice that addresses us is the Word of God, the Logos, the second identity of the Trinity. Jenson goes on to suggest, rather interestingly, therefore that the voice that speaks in the Old Testament is that of the pre-existent Christ, just as the New Testament is the voice of his continuing prophetic activity. Jenson gives the example of Isaiah – when the prophet describes the servant as a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief”, it is really Christ’s own testimony to his own character, given by the mouth of his prophet. Hence, we should not be afraid to ‘find Jesus in the Old Testament’. I have to admit this is a somewhat controversial point, but one that is definitely food for thought.

5) In the light of all this, the best way to experience the authority of Scripture is to see how Scripture is privileged in the life of the church – privileged in such a way as to fundamentally shape its life. As Jenson wittily says, “To experience the authority of Scripture, this is the chief thing to do: Hang out with Scripture, on a particular corner, the corner where there is a little crowd gathered around someone telling about the resurrection.” (p.36)

The necessary circularity of a theological account of Scripture

2010-02-08T23:05:00.001-08:00

Here's Westmont College professor of religious studies Telford Work on why a theological account of the Doctrine of Scripture will necessarily be circular:

"Protestant systematic theology has traditionally placed the topics of revelation and Scripture first in its order of reflection. This arrangement has much to commend it. It solidly grounds the rest of systematic theology, and stresses the sheer divine initiative in any human knowledge and love of God. But it tends to leave the character and work of Scripture behind, undeveloped, as the theology moves on. By contrast, an economic Trinitarian theology of Scripture continually revisits bibliology in light of every other locus of theology. A systematic, Trinitarian doctrine of Scripture is necessarily circular: all the categories that decribe it also emerge from it. This circularity liberates the doctrine of Scripture from its prolegomenal ghetto and appreciates the Bible as reaching into the very plan of God and the very heart of the Christian life. Every further uncovering of the mystery of God's economy of salvation - Christology, Trinity, soteriology, eschatology, ecclesiology - is a new warrant and occasion to make another hermeneutical circuit, and develop a fuller account of Scripture, with which the Church can evaluate and shape its biblical practices."

(Telford Work, Living and Active: Scripture in the Economy of Salvation, 9)

Moving Beyond the Bible to Theology

2010-02-01T08:15:00.000-08:00

I know the very title of this post might discomfort some: “What do you mean by ‘moving beyond’ the Bible? Are we supposed to ever move beyond the Bible?” But this is really the title of a book I’ve just finished reading – Four Views on Moving Beyond the Bible to Theology (ed. Gary Meadors; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009). In this book, a power packed cast of writers provide their different understandings of how they move from the Bible to theology or how they take the words or message of the Bible and apply it to modern day contexts and situations which the writers of Scripture never had to contend with - the most popular situations as presented in the book being the issue of abolition of slaves, women teaching, and (as presented by one contributor) transsexuality.

The first contributor is Walter Kaiser with the Principalising model, where Kasier states that we in fact don’t have to move beyond Scripture in the sense of taking the words of Scripture off on some trajectory to enable it to meet our present day contexts and situations. Rather, Scripture itself already has to full capacity to address these issues. What is needed, rather is to move through what he calls the ‘Ladder of Abstraction’ to sieve out and state ‘the general principle that embodies what is seen in the specificity, culture, and times of the text’ and then to ‘apply (that principle) to our day in corresponding specifics that elaborate on the same general principle’ (p.50). In a somewhat convoluted essay, the second contributor Daniel M. Doriani presents his Redemptive-Historical model, which seems like the standard grammatical-historical method, except that a much greater weight and attention is given to the location of the passage within salvation history. In another words, it is biblical theology resulting in a stronger Christocentric focus. So far so good, except that at this point Doriani introduces other factors such as allowing narrative to have its say in directing us in theology and ethics (p.87); casuistry (p.100), and asking ‘questions the Bible endorses’ (p.102), which really serve to confuse rather than illuminate his presentation. Third up is Kevin Vanhoozer, who presents his (curtains up and to no surprise) Drama of Redemption model. In this model, Christian living is seen as a fitting participation in God’s Theodrama, which He has graciously invited us to be part of. The Bible, in this case, serves as the script for a fitting participation, but yet a fitting participation is not just merely performing out the Script as it is, but rather it requires improvisation – which involves knowing how a portion of the Script fits in with the wider whole (what Vanhoozer calls ‘canon sense’: “To read with canon sense [...] is to read figurally or typologically, which is to say with the conviction that there is an underlying theodramatic consistency and coherence that underlies and unifies the whole.” (p.180)); and to see and learn from the previous performances of other saints and to understand the context ones is in (what Vanhoozer calls ‘catholic sensibility’ p.181). In another words, a faithful performance is when one performs or inhabits not so much the ‘world behind the text’ or even ‘the world of the text’, but rather ‘the world in front of the text’ or ‘the world implied by the text’. In another words, a fitting performance is when one cultivates theodramatic vision – when we ‘move beyond the script and become faithful performances of the world it implies by cultivating minds nurtured on the canon’, when our minds, hearts and imagination are trained and disciplined to think, desire, see – and then do – reality as it is in Jesus Christ’ (p.170). It is hence not surprising that doctrine, for Vanhoozer is largely formative – to so shape our thinking and imagination that we become people who habitually make good theodramtic judgements as to who God is, what He is doing, and hence what we must do in response (p.178). The final contributor is William Webb, who presents his Redemptive-Movement model, which is mainly concerned to find the ‘trajectory or logical extension of the Bible’s (or passage’s) redemptive spirit that carries Christians to an ultimate ethic’ (p.217). Due to this model’s frequent association with other more ‘out there’ hermeneutical theories which involve launching the meaning of the passage off on a trajectory which often ends up where the reader’s whims and fancies lead them to, Webb has to spend a proportionate time responding to the misconceptions and defending his model. Webb does not deny the NT as final and definitive revelation, but ‘understanding the NT as final and definitive revelation does not automatically mean that the NT contains the final realisation of social ethics in all of its concrete particulars’ (p.246). In another words, I think it is the ethical application of the passage that Webb allows for a trajectory to an ‘ultimate ethic’, one which may or may not be seen within the pages of the Bible itself. What makes this book worth it’s price is an additional three reflections from Mark Strauss, Al Wolters (who provides an interesting argument for general revelation which together with special revelation helps us to move ‘beyond the bible’ in these contentious issues p.317-19), and Chris Wright (who suggests that a further perspective that needs to be taken into account is that of a missional hermeneutics – since Scripture is about mission or since Scripture is to be read with a missional hermeneutic, then the direction and paradigm in which we go beyond Scripture in thinking through issues must also have a missional direction).

I conclude with three comments. Firstly, it is comforting and encouraging to know that all four writers are thoroughly convinced of the nature and authority of Scripture. While they may be convicted to varying degrees over the sufficiency and perspicuity of Scripture , all four writers recognise the need to submit oneself to the Word of God. Perhaps the deeper question discussed here is not Is Scripture authoritative but rather How is Scripture authoritative? Secondly, the answer to the How question varies, but each polarity is not without its own difficulties. For example, Kaiser’s principlising model states that there is no need to move beyond Scripture – Scripture contains (timeless?) principles that are more than sufficient to answer any situation in any context (he shows this by considering women leadership, euthanasia, abortion, stem cell research, slave abolition etc.), but the deeper question that remains (as pointed out by the other contributors) is whose principles? i.e. what is there to guide me to ensure that I draw out the right principle, or what is there to prevent two people from drawing out contrary principles? Kaiser would answer, “Solid exegesis!”, but the exegesis of certain passages can be tricky at times and not as simplistic as Kaiser makes it out to be (for e.g. his exegesis of 1 Tim 2:12 to justify his egalitarian position). As David Clark (To know and love God) puts it, “principlizing obscures the fact that any articulation of the allegedly transcultural principles still reflects the culture of the translators.” There is no such thing as propositions free from cultural bias or worldview (p.276). On the other polarity, someone like Webb faces the same criticism. How do we determine the ‘ultimate ethic’ of the text? Webb would answer, “By the redemptive spirit of the text!”, but whose spirit? Isn’t it of the reader at the end of the day? Or the Holy Spirit? Either way, Webb (as Strauss points out) runs the risk of being unable to provide a definite answer by labelling “meaning” as ‘something not part of the human author’s communicative intent as expressed through speech-acts (p.290). Even Vanhoozer cannot escape this difficulty. What is the measure by which we use to define faithful performance? What is the measure of faithful improvisation? (Questions asked by Wolters p.316) Though I think Vanhoozer provides us a hint of his answer in his essay - It is the rule of love, the way of wisdom. A faithful performance, a fitting improvisation is one which corresponds to the dramatis personae himself – God as revealed in Jesus – full of love, full of wisdom. As Vanhoozer himself states, “The way forward is the way of wisdom – to walk in such a manner that one corresponds in one’s whole being-in-act to God’s prior-in-act. The wise disciple is the one who discerns, deliberates, and does the truth, goodness, and beauty that is the love of God in Jesus Christ.” (p.186). My third and final comment is this book is really a mistitle. I was expecting to learn how one can move beyond the Bible to Theology, thinking doctrine and systematic theology. But that does not seem to be the main emphasis here. Instead, a more accurate title should be ‘Moving Beyond the Bible to Ethics’.

Blocher and "God Crucified" Theologies

2010-01-15T00:51:00.000-08:00

In an essay ‘God and the Cross’ (p.125-141 of Engaging the Doctrine of God (ed. Bruce McCormack; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), French theologian Henri Blocher evaluates the “God Crucified” theologies, most notably expressed in the theologies of Jürgen Moltmann (as seen in The Crucified God) and Eberhard Jüngel (God as the Mystery of the World: On the Foundations of the Theology of the Crucified One in the Dispute between Theism and Atheism).

Blocher states that the dual attraction found in the “God Crucified” theologies is the new theodicy it provides as we see God involving Himself in upmost suffering, and an affirmation of history as linked and binded with God’s being (for e.g. Moltmann in The Crucified God goes so far as to say that the Trinity is constituted by the event of the cross) (p.129-30). Blocher himself applauds and agrees with the “God Crucified” theologies on two fronts. Firstly, the biblical sense of truth leads us to a certain degree to this truth. Blocher states, “If a view of God makes it impossible for him to be in Christ on the cross, reconciling the world unto himself, it cannot be entertained.” (p.130) Secondly, the “God Crucified” theologies warn us against the influence of pagan Greek philosophy on Christian theology and the recognition of God’s pathos (“passion”), that entails compassion. A ‘positive valuation of history and the constant stress on the doctrine of the Trinity are welcome indeed’ (p.131).

However, Blocher also has three serious misgivings – the first relates to the deity of the Son, where in the “God Crucified” theologies, there is a tendency to relegate the second of the Trinity to the man Jesus, as ‘the man (crucified) with whom God identifies himself, thus defining himself as love, thus differentiating himself as Trinity’ (p.132). The second difficulty relates to God’s independence from the world if his being is defined by a worldly occurrence. Moltmann, for example, is ready to soften the emphasis of God’s freedom in creation, and he makes room for ideas of ‘panentheism’ in his theology (p.133). The third difficulty relates to the relationship between ontology and history. If God’s being is constituted or defined by the event in time, then this event itself is transmuted or changed into ontology itself: it becomes eternal, it no longer “happens”. The news of the cross runs into the risk of being an eternal Idea. Blocher states it this way, “The nemesis is that ontology historicised breeds an ontologised history, which loses the true character of history. The true character of history demands the duality." (In the same way, we wonder if the same comment can be posed of Barth’s idea of the incarnation of Christ as crucial to God’s being, though Barth prevents the ‘dehistoricising’ of the incarnation by stating that God’s being is ‘anticipated’ in that key event, which happened distinctly in time and history. ‘God’s being is in his becoming’. As McCormack states it, ‘God’s being in eternity is a being-in-act’. See here.) All this leads to Blocher’s major difficulty with ‘God Crucified’ theologies and what they tell us about God’s nature – the hermeneutics of the event. Whatever knowledge we derive of God from the event (of the cross) comes to us within a grid and framework of interpretation bound to the event itself! Blocher states, “The only “God”, then, that can be conceived is “correlative” of some worldly reality. […] Only if God himself testifies about himself may we go beyond.” (p.134). In another words, Blocher is for a theology of the cross – but one interpreted under the guidance of all the Scriptures, the abiding word of God written! (p.135).

With this in mind, Blocher states three interpretive guidelines from Scripture that help us to think through what the theology of the cross reveals about God. Firstly, God cannot die in his own (divine) nature. Scripture seems to lead us towards that direction (Hab 1:12 and 1 Tim 6:16). Secondly, the distinction between person and nature becomes foundational, and thirdly and related to the second, persons in the Godhead can be viewed as subsisting relations. Blocher states this, “There are several persons of the one God, and the language of the “crucified God” must be explained as dealing with God the Son, whom God the Father has sent that he may take on human flesh and die in his flesh, in the weakness proper to human flesh.” (p.138)

A Nuanced Defence of PSA by Marshall and Holmes

2010-01-08T01:04:00.000-08:00

I have just finished reading two books on the atonement, where the authors offer a nuanced defence of Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA) – the view which states (the way I would put it) that on the cross the God-man Jesus bore the penalty of our sin in our place, satisfying God’s wrath against our sin and enabling forgiveness to come to us.

The first book is by Ian Howard Marshall, Aspects of the Atonement: Cross and Resurrection in the reconciling of God and humanity (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2007). This book really consists of 4 essays written by Marshall, each constituting a chapter in the book. In the 1st chapter, Marshall defends the concept of the penalty of sin, with the aim of hopefully persuading us to a stand like: “Well, maybe terms like penalty and anger are open to misunderstanding, but properly understood they express the heart of the matter.” (p.12). He explores the vocabulary of ‘punishment’, ‘vegeance’, ‘wrath’, ‘judgement’ and ‘destruction and death’ from the New Testament (p.11-19), and concludes that there is ‘no legitimate way of avoiding the fact that these terms refer to the (personal) attitude of God himself that results in action being taken against sinners’ (p.19), and may we add, actions that also include the results or consequences of sin which sinners bring upon themselves. If the God of the Bible is fundamentally holy and loving, and both of these attributes are relational, then they will find expression in his grace and mercy towards his creation, but yet also judgement and wrath when that creation is spoilt by sin (p.24). Marshall also explores and upholds the concept of ‘retributive judgement’, broadening it beyond a simply legal consideration, but including the whole breadth of the consequences of sin in the Bible (p.32). What is attractive about Marshall’s proposal is his suggestion that the ultimate element in judgement is the exclusion from community, from the kingdom of God – a suggestion which has mileage in developing the idea of penalty and penal substitution (understood in this broad sense) for Israel within her covenant relationship with God. In the 2nd chapter, Marshall attempts to go deeper into the atonement itself – what exactly is happening on the cross. He begins by taking the cue from P.T. Forsyth and suggests that it is the ‘Holy Love of God’ that undergirds the nature of the atonement and calls for it (p.34-38). He then explores the various New Testament metaphorical language used to describe the work of salvation – ‘sacrifice’, ‘curse’, ‘redemption and ransom’, ‘reconciliation’, ‘forgiveness’ – and concludes that ‘essentially the same basic principle is expressed in each of these different understandings of the death of Jesus. The principle of one person bearing the painful consequences of sin is the modus operandi of the different understandings of the cross’ – God did something in Christ that involved Christ dying while bearing our sins (p.51). Thus, the concept ‘penal substitution’ can be appropriately used of the cross, though the ‘penal’ should be understood in the broadest sense of the word as mentioned above, and though we might need to think of improving on the term to cover the concept in today’s theological climate. Marshall concludes this chapter with 4 points about PSA (p.64-67):

• A clarification of the nature of judgement (as what Marshall has done in the 1st chapter) helps us to a better understanding of the death of Christ
• It is possible for us to hold fast to the concept of penal substitution while looking for terminology that may communicate it more effectively to our contemporaries.
• The doctrine of the Trinity is our firm defense against any false suggestion that God the Father had to be appeased by the Son in order to bring about the purpose of redemption.
• As we clarify and defend PSA, we can and should continue to subscribe to declarations of the evangelical faith that enshrine this fundamental and essential doctrine and to sing with reverent thanksgiving and praise.

In the 3rd chapter, Marshall turns to the resurrection, and conducts an in-depth study as to how the resurrection of Jesus is related to the achieving of salvation on behalf of sinful humanity. He explores passages in Hebrews, and several other NT passages, before zooming in on Rom 4:25 where it is stated that ‘Christ was raised from the dead with a view to our justification’, i.e. our justification is in some way tied to Jesus’ resurrection. Marshall concludes:

[The link between Christ’s resurrection and our justification] goes beyond the simple understanding of Christ’s resurrection in terms of God’s vindication of him, purely as a demonstration to humanity that he was the Messiah after all and that his sacrifice has been effective. Rather, in raising Christ from death […], God is not so much vindicating what Christ has done and saying that he approves of it, but is bringing him back from the dead as the One who is now just and experiencing the new life that God grants to those whose sin has been taken away; this is happening representatively to Christ so that believers may share in this new life.” (p.90)

In another words, Jesus is our substitute in dying on the cross for us and bearing our penalty, but Jesus is our representative in experiencing justification and living this new relationship with God.

In the 4th and final chapter, Marshall searches for a term that best encompasses all that is happening in the salvation and work of Christ, and he finds it in the candidate ‘reconciliation’. Marshall explores passages which have the word (2 Cor 5:17-21; 1:19-23; Rom 5:1 and Eph 2) and also passages which contain the two other closely connected word-groups of “peace” and “forgiveness”. He then compares ‘reconciliation’ with other ‘models’ of salvation such as ‘justification’, ‘redemption’, ‘salvation’, ‘sacrifice’, ‘family’ and ‘covenant’ and show how while these other models are similar in structure to the motif of reconciliation and often closely linked with it, reconciliation might still be the most comprehensive and apt of the models used. Four points in particular stand out: Firstly, reconciliation particularly brings out the relational and personal element in the problem between us and God – There is a breakdown or lack of a positive personal relationship between sinners and God. Secondly, reconciliation highlights the divine initiative of God in bridging this chasm. Thirdly, reconciliation highlights the fact that in salvation, the sinner is brought back into a restored relationship with God, and both the negative and positive sense of salvation is brought out – not only cancellation of sins or imputation of righteousness, but also the positive righteous status and the ‘peace’ we now have. And lastly, reconciliation as a term and concept highlights the social dimension or implications of being saved to God better than some of the other terms. Marshall concludes:

“[…] Reconciliation is a model that expresses clearly the basic pattern of human need, God’s action, and the resultant new situation that shapes all the biblical imagery of salvation, and that it does so in a way that is particularly comprehensive and is especially relevant in a world where the need for new relationships between human beings is so clamant.” (p.137)

The second book is by Stephen R. Holmes, The Wondrous Cross: Atonement and Penal Substitution in the Bible and History (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2007). Unlike Marshall’s book, which is a compilation of his essays written over various occasions, Holmes book is more of a bird’s eye view on the topic of the atonement, written in an accessible style targeted for both lay readers and pastors. After an introductory chapter laying out the issues, Holmes begins by exploring atonement as seen in the Old Testament and the New Testament. He focuses mainly on sacrifices and the suffering servant of Isaiah from the OT, concluding that perhaps the biggest feature portrayed for us in these several different pictures is that of mystery (p.27) – God commands the sacrifices, he states that the suffering servant will suffer vicariously, he commands Abraham to sacrifice his son but intervenes at the last moment by providing a sacrifice – in all these, we see what God commands, but we do not know how or why they work. As for the New Testament, Holmes concludes that the New Testament writers did focus on the cross, but used many different images to illustrate what was happening, with each of these images in and of themselves being either partial or incomplete. All this leads to Holmes’ conclusion that the ‘best way to think of the cross is to use many and complementary models or stories of salvation that hint at or point towards the indescribable truth at the heart of the matter’ (p.41). In this regard, Holmes views that there is no clearly worked out doctrine of atonement n the NT, only the raw material by which we may and must attempt to construct such a doctrine (p.41). And in our attempt to construct such a doctrine, it is tempting and very easy to read these images or stories of salvation as different ways of describing PSA, especially when we already know from somewhere else that PSA is the (only?) right way to understand the atonement. Holmes believes that the NT language in and of itself does not demand to be read this way. In the next 2 chapters, Holmes looks at the doctrine of atonement from Christian History (from key Church Fathers to Medieval theologians to the Reformation and all the way into present day twentieth century) with him concluding that the early church fathers right through to the Medieval Fathers had different stories of salvation to tell. It was only from the Reformation (John Calvin) that penal substitution became a common and successful way of talking about the cross, with this being the case till recently. Holmes defends his thesis most strongly in the 6th chapter – that the Bible itself does not have just one picture of how Jesus saves us, but has different pictures ‘put right next to one another with no suggestion that one is more important than the other’ (p.76). And Holmes argues further that such a many-and-complementary picture way of viewing the cross has to be the way, because the cross is far too fundamental, far too basic, to be just one example of some more general part of human life (p.78). So if we try to understand the cross of Christ through an exclusive idea of sacrifice, or love, or anything else in the world, what we end up doing is making the cross of Christ just another example – it might be the supreme example but still just an example – of love, or sacrifice or whatever the thing might be. Rather, the centrality of the cross obliges us to understand sacrifice, love, and every other human reality by thinking about the cross of Christ (p.78). And only a many-and-complementary picture view of the cross allows for such a view. In the 7th and 8th chapters, Holmes explores the place of PSA within such a many-and-complementary picture view, and defends that it has a valid place and is one valid story to tell of the cross, even amidst the theological and cultural objections to PSA. Holmes has some interesting insights along the way, such as his proposal that it is by seriously considering union with Christ that the objection that it is not fair to transfer guilt from one individual to another can be answered – God can take our guilt because he identifies so closely with us that our guilt can be shared, or transferred (p.97). Holmes also reminds us that PSA must be thought of as a work of the Trinitarian God and that it first arises and begins out of a hermeneutical horizon of the divine love of God. As Holmes reminds us, John Calvin insisted at length that the only reason we have an atonement theology is the prior love of God. The following paragraph perhaps best captures Holmes’ thoughts on PSA:

“[…] Properly told, penal substitution is a story that helps us make sense of the cross of Christ, of the astonishing thing that happened at Calvary. But it is not the only way of describing the cross – not even a privileged one. […] However, penal substitution is a way of talking that we should hold on to, because it preserves certain truths that are taught better by telling this story than by telling any other story I have ever heard.” (p.100-01)

What do we make of Marshall and Holmes’ proposals? On the one hand, I agree with Holmes’ many-and-complementary picture or ‘stories of salvation’ view that he upholds. Perhaps we as evangelicals have quite often presented PSA as the only and exclusive way in explaining the atonement, and have either ignored the other models or stories, or ‘subsumed’ them under PSA. And PSA has been a good story to tell so far in our time and age, where a sense of sin and guilt and courts of law and justice were pictures and terms that individuals could easily identify with. But as Holmes pointed out, does the story of PSA still resonate so deeply in today’s culture, where sin and shame and guilt are no longer felt and experienced so deeply as before? (p.114-15) In this regard, perhaps Marshall’s suggestion that the ultimate form of judgement as exclusion from God’s community might be something that resonates stronger with people today – in another words, the sense of alienation and exclusion is stronger than that of shame and guilt?

But here, on the other hand, is where I disagree with Holmes. Must we, in holding onto this many-and complementary picture view of atonement, at the same time state that there is no privileged picture or story of salvation? Here is where Marshall helps tremendously. If as Marshall as shown, there is an underlying principle of one person bearing the consequences of sin as the modus operandi of the different pictures or stories of salvation, then can we say that penal substitution undergirds all the different pictures? In saying this, I am of course going for a very broad definition of ‘penal’ being the consequences of our sin and rebellion, rather than the narrowly-defined definition of ‘penal’ being the consequences of breaking some law in a court of justice (which I suspect is the definition Holmes works with throughout his book). Finally, I think there is much worth exploring into Marshall’s suggestion of ‘reconciliation’ being a suitable term to describe the multi-faceted work of the cross as shown through the different pictures and stories of salvation – a header term that connects and brings together the different pictures and stories not by subsuming and collapsing the different pictures into one, but summarising the different effects of the atonement won by Christ for our salvation.

5 Hermeneutical Horizons when thinking about Eschatology

2009-12-15T06:37:00.000-08:00

In the last chapter of his The Hermeneutics of Doctrine, Anthony Thiselton provides 7 hermeneutical horizons we should consider when considering eschatology. They are:

Promise. For the Christian, the expectation and hope of the future acts of God and hence our human destiny is grounded on a perceived gap between what God has promised and what has so far come about. It is this very gap that forms the basis of the fundamental of “not yet” of biblical and Christian eschatology. It projects hope toward the future (p.541).

Community. The second horizon of community stands in contrast with the common individual focus or horizon which we often bring to our thinking on eschatology. We often think of the four traditional “last things” – namely death, judgement, heaven and hell, from an individual focus and reduce the foreground of biblical eschatology that focuses on the cosmic, world events of the Parousia, the last judgement, and the resurrection of the dead to the background. Biblical eschatology more often than not has the world, creation and community as its immediate loci of discussion.

Resurrection of the dead. Our hermeneutical horizons on eschatology in turn are confirmed by this one – the resurrection of the dead. As Thiselton puts it, “The ground for belief is the infinite resourcefulness of God as Creator to create anew a mode of existence appropriate for resurrection life, and the act of God in raising Jesus Christ, as evidenced by witnesses (1 Cor 15:3-6; 35-44).” (p.543).

Apocalyptic. Thiselton contends further that the three hermeneutical horizons mentioned above come together as major features of apocalyptic thought within eschatology. Thiselton suggests, despite scholarly opposition which he defends against, that the apocalyptic pattern of thought has influenced the eschatology of Jesus and Paul, as well as other material in the New Testament. Thiseton also has an interesting section discussing the often perceived differences between Moltmann and Pannenberg in their utilisations of apocalyptic patterns of thought, with the view that Moltmann places a stronger emphasis on the contrast and discontinuity between the old creation and the new, while Pannenberg stresses their continuity and coherence. Thiselton’s assessment is that both Pannenberg and Moltmann complement rather than contradict each other. They both ‘stress the possibility of novelty and surprise as God’s promises come to be fulfilled in unexpected ways. But each also stresses divine faithfulness as God remains true to His promise.

Thiselton has separated the last three horizons, but I prefer to see them as one grouped together. They all have to do with the formative effects on us as we think about eschatology. We are led to the discipline of waiting coupled with eager expectation for the future, something we modern people don’t really know how to do very well anymore! An excellent quote from Thiselton:

“This hermeneutic of understanding is far removed from the drive for immediacy, instantaneousness, and instant gratification of desire generated by the combined effect of socio-economic consumerism, the availability of massive financial credit, and an increasingly “postmodern” turn of mind. Almost unlimited credit draws upon, and uses up, the uncertain future for the desires of the present moment. [This is] a short-term philosophy of “enjoy it now; pay it later.” Such horizons do not relate readily to an eschatology of “not yet” in which waiting is characterised not by resentment but by eager expectancy concerning what lies ahead. Postmodern consumerist cultures regard “waiting” as intolerable, and as a source of resentment or at best disappointed resignation.” (p.546-47)

This act of waiting in turn will sharpen our appreciation of what Thiselton calls the conceptual grammer of expectation. Thiselton’s main point here is that the grammer of expectation is not so much linked with believing propositions about chronological duration, but more about practical action. Just as what it is to believe in bound up with attitudes, behaviour, and disposition, so also to expect is embedded in a situation from which it takes its rise. The New Testament writers rejected the notion that expecting had anything to do with chronological calculation, but rather the logical currency of expecting the eschaton is shown by how Christians live. All this leads us to the last horizon of time. Thiselton in following Pannenberg’s lead states, “Faithfulness to promise manifests itself only over a period of time. Neither God’s proven faithfulness nor the readers’ tested faithfulness can acquire working currency other than through time.”

Overall, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading The Hermeneutics of Doctrine. Thiselton has showed us his view of the nature of doctrine – that doctrine is best viewed as practices of life; that it is built on the biblical writings defined in terms of canon; has continuity with an ongoing developing tradition; is formative in nature in that it generates habits that generates performance, and has a temporal logic of narrative embodying a coherent plot (p. 77). He has succeeded to varying degrees in showing how his understanding of the nature of doctrine informs our hermeneutical horizons to the different doctrines – having a fairly generous exegesis of the related Scriptural passages, a respectful treatment of historical theology (including a charitable treatment of theologians whose theology we might not find ourselves readily agreeing with), and at all times, a constructive and innovative idea or insight in between.

Hermeneutical Guidelines for thinking about Charismatic Revival Theology

2009-12-03T21:50:00.000-08:00

As you can tell by now, I have been ploughing through Thiselton’s The Hermeneutics of Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007) and posting on any gems I can find. In his chapter on the Holy Spirit, Thiselton explores and advocates that our understanding and communication of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit should derive primarily from Old Testament traditions, which become modified in the light of Christological, corporate, and eschatological horizons in the New Testament (p.416). The Old Testament Scriptures portray the work of God’s Spirit or breath as one of empowering individuals for special (and often salvific) tasks; and towards the later portion of the OT comes to be a marker of the eschatological age where the Spirit is shown as a communal gift for empowerment for transformation and renewed life. This gets carried forward into the NT, but with ‘Christological and eschatological extensions and qualifications’ (p.419). Thiselton’s one statement sums it up well: “The anointing by the Holy Spirit that becomes the gift of all Christians corporately is derived from the Christological anointing of Christ by the Spirit to bring in the reign of God.” (p.419). Thiselton then traces the thinking of the church fathers on this matter and shows how their thinking conforms and in fact develops the NT teaching into a stable doctrinal tradition. This tradition is then “challenged” by Pentecostalism and the Charismatic Revival (he does an excellent job in summarising the history of the charismatic movement including the three ‘waves’ of it from p.436-440). The main “challenge” is that the movement raises new questions which bring new horizons to our understanding of the doctrine.

Rather than providing simplistic answers, Thiselton carefully engages these new horizons with the ‘older’ established horizons. The result is a list of excellent hermeneutical guidelines for thinking about the charismatic revival theology (p.442-444).

1) An emphasis upon the ministry of the Holy Spirit reflects NT and Christian doctrine, provided that it is not abstracted and isolated from its Trinitarian frame. This is the firm and stable tradition which the church fathers have placed us on – they spoke of the Holy Spirit from a Christological and Trinitarian context. In this regard, Thiselton suggest that perhaps we should speak of Trinitarian renewal rather than Spirit renewal.

2) We have to be careful that our experience of vitality, dynamism, power and energy associated very often with charismatic revival theology does not lead to a loss of the dimension of pilgrimage, waiting, and self-discipline. To fall into this danger would be to compromise on the horizon of eschatology by relegating things to an over-realised eschatology.

3) Likewise, the delight that arises from an intimate and personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ in the Holy Spirit should not lead to an inward-looking pietistic individualism but to a shared concern for the church and for the well-being of society and the world.

4) The experience of newness of life, an awareness of the present and future, of surprise and creative novelty often expressed in a moment-by-moment “walking in the Spirit” must not lead to a disregard of tradition and history – The Holy Spirit acts in continuity with his own past work in earlier centuries.

5) The Holy Spirit renews the whole person. This includes the mind (which tends to be downplayed in charismatic renewal) as well as the emotions and bodily action (which tends to be overemphasised). Charismatic Revival must not lead to a mood of anti-intellectualism.

6) Healing happens “when and where God wills it.” Thiselton questions whether the terminology of the “miraculous” is the most accurate way of conveying God’s almighty sovereignty to act in or through causal processes or otherwise, as God chooses. He states this further: “Too weak an emphasis upon healing diminishes trust in the sovereignty of God; too strong an emphasis upon healing increases the anguish of the problem of evil and suffering for those (and their loved ones) who do not receive healing by other than medical means” (p.443), and can I add, who may not even receive healing in the end.

7) There is a need to distinguish between using a term like “baptism in the Spirit” on an exegetical basis to describe the authenticity of the experience denoted by that term. As Thiselton states: “it would be presumptuous to deny that sometimes Christian believers “catch up” on an experience of Pentecostal power and holiness at a stage subsequent to their initial coming to faith. But if the term “baptism of the Spirit” is used to describe this, this is not Paul’s use of the term. Such a claim would entail a misleading hermeneutic, based on a mistaken exegesis.” (p.444)

Thiselton ends off his whole chapter with this deep hermeneutical paradox – the more we engage with signs of the Holy Spirit, the more we risk losing the very goal of the Spirit’s work, namely to illuminate Christ, the cross, and the future resurrection as the heart of the gospel (p.450).

Excellent hermeneutical guidelines for us to evaluate Charismatic Revival theology, not only as a whole movement, but also as individuals who may have had varying points of contact with it!

Christology in Hebrews

2009-12-02T07:58:00.000-08:00

Anthony Thiselton (The Hermeneutics of Doctrine, 2007) laments the fact that in discussions of Christology, we either end up with the age-old debate of ‘high’ Christology or ‘low’ Christology; or if not end up employing a form of discussion not focused on the “two natures”, but instead the “two languages of man-language and God-language”, which ends up ‘reducing ontological truth-claims into a contrived dualism between empirical events in history and “myth”’ (p.387). He instead recommends a hermeneutical model where we search within the New Testament for the highest possible Christology (including an explicit definition of Jesus Christ as God) while cohering within the same writing with the fullest possible explanation of the humanness of Jesus (one that fulfils in every respect what it means to be truly human). Such a Christology, Thiselton suggests, is found in the book of Hebrews. He states:

“Clearly John and Hebrews are major sources of “high” Christologies. But what is remarkable about Hebrews is that in comparison with other New Testament writings it has both the highest and most deliberate expressions of the humanness of Jesus Christ. [...] It is essential for the writer’s theology of priesthood, representation and mediation that Christ is portrayed as genuinely human, and thereby able to represent humankind in priestly mediation to God, and equally portrayed as sharing in deity to represent God to humankind in prophetic mediation and address. Jesus Christ is both “ascending” Mediator on behalf of humankind and “descending” Mediator on behalf of God. Nevertheless, in effect anticipating the later creeds and Chalcedon, this writer nowhere suggests that Jesus Christ is half-man and/or half-God.” (p.391)

Thiselton goes on to provide examples in Hebrews which reflect the perfect representation of man to God in terms of Jesus’ humanness, and the perfect mediation of God to man in terms of his deity. And this leads in to Thiselton’s key point in this chapter – the hermeneutical horizons in considering Christology are far much more anchored in the “home” horizons of the New Testament itself than in horizons of historical speculations about the development of a “two-stage” Christology into a “three-stage” Christology, or, still less convincing, of the effect of pressures from the Greek world to transpose narrative of the earthly Jesus into mythological or metaphysical terms (p.395). In another words, the ‘home-langauge’ when it comes to discussing Christology still lie in the New Testament Scriptures.

Thiselton on the hermeneutics of the doctrine of Atonement

2009-11-30T00:44:00.000-08:00

In chapters 14-16 of his The Hermeneutics of Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), Thiselton explores some of the hermeneutical horizons which lead to the doctrine of the Atonement. The following is an attempt to summarise and evaluate some of his thoughts.

Thiselton begins by stating upfront that ‘the search for hermeneutical starting points for the Christian proclamation of the cross has never been easy’ (p.309). We need to be first aware that when we think about the cross or about atonement, we are really engaging at two different kinds of horizons of understanding. The first concerns the initial preunderstandings or readiness to understand on the part of those who seek to understand. This means being aware of or discovering our preunderstandings which will find a point of overlap or engagement with that which has yet to be understood. The second horizon of understanding concerns what the ‘otherness of the subject matter demands’; it is concerned with discovering the appropriate horizon of understanding where ‘the subject matter assumes its proper context for a fruitful understanding that does not distort it or impose inappropriate questions upon it’. In another words, it is about “hearing the other” on its own terms without imposing our prior conceptions on it.

With that in mind, Thiselton moves on to explore three interpretive issues which engage the two horizons stated above – i) the role of human experiences to which a theology of the cross has spoken (and especially in view of the New Perspective), ii) the need to approach our entire hermeneutics of the cross from the standpoint of divine grace, and iii) the recognition of the variety of imagery used to interpret the work of Christ in the New Testament.

With the New Perspective, the challenge has been whether to think of the cross as reflecting a situation of human plight to solution, or one of solution to plight. While Thiselton admits that this contention remains controversial as with regards to the second horizon of understanding – that demanded by the subject matter itself; it is clear that within the first horizon, our understanding of the cross has been shaped by our human experiences of struggle, guilt, or alienation from God. “There is a correlation between specific aspects of the human experience of sin, bondage, or alienation, and aspects of the saving work of Christ.”But Thiselton adds further:

If sin is seen in structural or corporate terms as characterising collective humanity fallen “in Adam”, then the work of Christ is perceived as that of the last or eschatological Adam who brings about believing “in Christ” (Rom 5:12-21; 1 Cor 15:22, 23 and 45-49). Experiences of bondage or vulnerability to forces beyond human control find a correlation with Christ as Victor over such forces (Col 2:15). Notions of facing divine wrath or judgement are matched by a theology of reconciliation through the work of Christ on the cross (Rom 5:1-11). (p.315-16, his emphasis)

With the second interpretive issue, Thiselton states that the presupposition of grace and the nature of divine love must be the axiomatic starting point (and may we add) the basis of all our hermeneutical thinking on the atonement. Throughout the New Testament material, there is no trace of any contrast between the wrath of God and the love of Christ. It is here that we discuss Thiselton’s view regarding which is the more appropriate term to describe Christ’s work – expiation or propitiation, which he discusses in detail in chapter 15. Three key factors lead to Thiselton’s conclusion that it is not a simplistic matter of ‘either-or’, but really one which encompasses both. First, all such discussion must arise out of a horizon of divine grace, i.e. we must not portray the notion of “appeasing God” as one that undercuts the initiative of divine grace. Second, what enables us to ground our thinking on this subject in a realm of divine grace is that of seeing the cross and atonement as a Trinitarian act. The concept of God’s “directing against his own very self” wrath or self-chosen propitiation can become intelligible only within a Trinitarian horizon of understanding. Third, Thiselton emphasises on the notion of divine integrity or “being true to oneself” as the key notion to hold the various concepts together. Divine integrity provides a balanced counter-perspective to the many accusations held against penal substitutionary atonement as being shaped by reading the Bible through the modern day lens of the criminal justice system. Thiselton states wisely, “[…] the nineteeth-century concern to place a heavy emphasis upon jurisprudence and theories of punishment should not lead us to exclude every issue about divine self-consistency and integrity, to which the model of propitiation may point, however relative it may be to other models that qualify it. The deeds of God are bound up with the character and reputation of God’s “name”.” (p.344). Divine integrity also helps us to understand God’s wrath as being “internal” (sin bringing its own consequences) but yet “personal” at the same time – the ultimate punishment is for God to turn from his jealousy for us and be calm (p.344-45). Overall, divine integrity serves to show us a God of grace who is not to be thought of like a vengeful headmaster seeking a scapegoat, but a God of grace that takes upon himself what it costs to stand by his promises and warnings, while reconciling the world to himself. Under such horizons of thinking, expiation and propitiation do not offer an either-or. If we do not totally exclude what propitiation (qualified by other models) points to, this will also presuppose the reality of expiation. Similarly, to just highlight expiation exclusively risks losing out the personal dimension of God’s action. It is also within this context of divine integrity that Thiselton discusses Anselm’s work (chapter 16). Thiselton suggests that rather than to understand Anselm’s work from the perspective of honour or jurisdically, it is better to understand Anselm’s work “ontologically” or “covenantally”. What is at stake is God’s own internal coherence and the consistency of his divine nature. Thiselton states, “What is at stake is the “order” of the universe. This is part of the horizon of understanding for a hermeneutic of the doctrine of the work of Christ alongside the priority, sovereignty, and initiative of divine grace.” (p.365). Coming back to the notion of divine grace, Thiselton draws on the work of Jurgen Moltmann and suggests that the notion of a God who allows himself to grieve and suffer provides the best horizon to work out the complicated questions and issues arising from the atonement today.

We turn now to Thiselton’s third interpretive issue – the variety of images and metaphors used to show the work of Christ. Here, Thiselton first suggests the usefulness of images and metaphors to convey a certain state of affairs. The juxtaposition of a variety of mutually qualifying images, symbols, analogies, metaphors sometimes work together to offer a coherent picture in place of the atomistic pieces which we first begun with. In this light, Thiselton explores in Chapter 14 what he terms as the explicit hard currencies of biblical language used to describe the atonement – redemption and salvation; and what he terms as other effective hard currencies of biblical language – reconciliation, mediation and approach. Interestingly, while Thiselton does not mention explicitly at any point in the three chapters, one wonders whether his statement that the substitutionary nature of the death of Christ as a sacrifice “for our sins” which formed for the subapostolic and early Patristic writings a core understanding (p.355) might be representative of his own thinking. What is clear is that Thiselton advocates a multi-model approach, all working together to qualify single models, or to cancel off unwanted overtones in other models. What is also clear is that ‘the Old Testament texts and life of Israel provide the public horizons of understanding in terms of which the vocabulary and language uses of the New Testament that relate to the work of Christ can be understood’ (p.324). We must not think of these images and metaphors as abstract theological formulae and lose sight of their role within the living, dynamic, dramatic narrative of the New Testament. Otherwise, their ‘hermeneutical currency becomes debased and reduced’ (p.340).

Thiselton has discussed much more and in far greater detail than what this writeup can capture. Perhaps the contours of his thinking are best summarised in his conclusion to the three chapters:
[…] Love and grace provide the overarching horizon of understanding for everything else about the work of Christ. But to stress this horizon is to take the first step without embarking further on the journey. Anselm and Calvin show that divine integrity and the divine governance of the world also form part of a necessary horizon of understanding. Today, in the early twenty-first century, Moltmann has enlarged that horizon in further needed directions. He writes, “I no longer asked what the cross of Christ means for human being, but also asked what the cross of the Son of God means for God himself, whom he called ‘my Father.’ I found an answer to this question in the perception of the deep suffering of God, which is bound up with the death of the Son in Golgotha and becomes manifest in him. It is the suffering of a boundless love.”

Here is the most fundamental hermeneutical horizon in both sense of the word “horizon”. It places the doctrine of the work of Christ fully within the doctrine of divine grace and within the doctrine of the Trinity, from which it derives its theological truth and intelligibility. It also provides a horizon of hermeneutical communication within which those who seek a fuller understanding may engage with “questions that arise” where they already stand. (p.375)

Overall, Thiselton’s three chapters are extremely stimulating in getting us to think deeper on the hermeneutics of the doctrine of the atonement. In particular, his two horizons of understanding listed at the beginning are particularly useful. We must not deny the presence of preunderstandings which we bring to approach on this topic, and sometimes which skew the direction of where we are led to in our investigation. Yet, we do not cast them aside or deny them, but seek to see how they overlap with the second horizon, where the subject matter speaks for what it is without any demands laid on it. Our end-point will always be a fusion of these two horizons. This will translate into two particular emphases in our consideration of the doctrine – we must consider what the whole biblical revelation has to say, and not just mere portions of it to support our preunderstandings which we first bring. In this regard, Thiselton has explored the New Testament language used to describe the work. A complementary approach would be to consider the whole of biblical salvation history in terms of its key moments and consider how that might shape our understanding to the context of how much of the New Testament language on Christ's work is used. The second emphasis would be to adopt a inter-doctrinal approach. The doctrine of the work of Christ cannot be considered in isolation and as a free-standing problem, but it will have bearings in relation to other doctrines, in particularly the doctrine of grace, of God, and of sin. Such an inter-doctrinal approach, as evidenced by Thiselton, will lead to a rich and deep consideration of the great work of Christ for us.

Review of Death by Love: Letters From the Cross

2009-11-19T08:16:00.000-08:00

What does the theology of the atonement have to do with someone tormented by demons and spirits? Someone struggling with lust? Someone struggling to forgive and seek reconciliation? Someone wanting blood and revenge for a justified cause? Someone crumbling under the filth and stain from acts of sin done to them in their lives? Someone seeking to justify himself from a horrendous crime previously committed? Someone unaware of his own problem of self-righteousness? Someone struggling with sickness and staring at potential death in the face? Someone aware of the debt we owe God but trying to pay it off through his own efforts? Someone struggling to know God? And hear this - a young child born in a loving Christian family and environment? What does what happened on the cross have to do with all these situations?

That’s the big question that pastor Mark Driscoll (together with theologian Gerry Breshears) addresses in one of his more recent books Death By Love: Letters From the Cross (Wheaton: Crossway, 2008). After an introductory chapter discussing the substitutionary death of Jesus, Driscoll and Breshears go on to present the multi-faceted jewel of the cross. What is unique about their presentation, however, is the way the theology is presented. The rich theological truths of Christus Victor; Jesus as our redemption; our New Covenant sacrifice; our righteousness; our justification; our propitiation; our expiation; our examplar; our ransom; our reconciliation; our revelation, and even the doctrine of the scope of the atonement are presented not in an abstract way, but embedded within a certain life situation or context. Each chapter begins with Driscoll introducing someone he had worked with in a pastoral context. This is then followed by a personal letter written to that person where one facet of the golden jewel of the cross is presented so that ‘the person and work of Jesus are made intensely practical for that person’s life’ (p.13). Driscoll and Breshears are clear in their overall aim – ‘to show that there is no such thing as Christian community or Christian ministry apart from a rigorous theology of the cross that is practically applied to the lives of real people’ (p.13).

Overall, I think Driscoll and Breshears have succeeded to a large extent. Here is theology that bites; theology that is not presented in a high-brow academic ivory-tower fashion but instead shown clearly for what theology should be – theology that speaks to real people in real circumstances of real life. Here is theology meets pastoral counselling meets evangelism meets edification – as Driscoll shows how he wisely counsels people, confronting them and challenging them where necessary, but at all times grounded in the rich truths of Scripture. Here is dramatic theology – where theological truths not just inform us, but they actually shape our posture and direct us towards a fitting participation in God’s great drama of his revelation, which by his gracious Word and Spirit he has invited us to be a part of.

I have just three points to make which I believe would contribute further to the book. Firstly, the cosmic renewal aspect of the cross (and resurrection) was not highlighted. Instead, the application of what the cross achieved seemed largely to be individualistic. While that is true, the cross and resurrection of Christ does also have a cosmic effect. It is because of the cross and resurrection that we can have assurance of the new creation. In a passing world tainted and burdened with sin, decay, environmental degradation, and pain, the new creation and the new hope made possible and promised through the cross and resurrection is surely a welcome to all. Secondly, there needs to be a stronger emphasis of the atonement as a Trinitarian work. Certain portions of the book might run the risk of almost sounding like the cross was solely the work of the Son. While Driscoll and Breshears do make mention of God Himself as the second person of the Trinity stepping up to take the penalty in our place (p.115), a stronger emphasis of this theme would have been better. And lastly, it would have been ideal if Driscoll and Breshears had concluded the book by perhaps showing how the different facets and aspects of the cross ‘hang together’ – is there a central key idea which holds the different aspects together? Driscoll and Breshears would answer an affirmative ‘yes’ - it is penal substitution (an answer I would agree with). But they seem to assume and state this truth rather than show us how it is so, and doing more of the latter would add further to the academic standing of the book.

Overall, even after consideration of the three points above, this is still an excellent book and one which I think all pastors and ministry leaders should get their hands on. Read these letters from the cross and be warmed, be encouraged in heart, and with our lips and our lives, may we break forth in praise declaring ‘O the Wondrous Cross’!

Thiselton and Green on Money

2009-11-12T18:56:00.000-08:00

Anthony Thiselton has this interesting thing to say about money and power (the context is actually in a discussion on the hermeneutics of the doctrine of what it means to be human. Thiselton proposes that part of being created in the image of God means humanity has a capacity to take responsibility for the world, and such a responsibility will bring with being human the use of power. It is in this context that he discusses on money and wealth):

“The development of civilisation has led to the use of money as our instrument of power and of the quest for the security of the self. The biblical writings abound in warnings against the misuse of wealth. Like power itself, money may be used positively for human flourishing as a unit of exchange in place of goods, land, and property. [Quoting a certain report]… “Money is not the problem; we are the problem. It is not money that defines us theologically or spiritually, but our personal attitudes.” Our problem, especially in our times, is the risk of equating a person’s value or worth with the extent of their financial gain in the system of money.

[…] The most dramatic phenomenon of today is the explosion of credit. In moderation, drawing on credit permits the purchase of houses and the expansion of businesses. But today exponential advances of credit promote the use of wealth in the present drawn against future projections that may or may not materialise. The present is becoming increasingly mortgaged to the future, which demonstrates the link between relationality, power, and time. [All this] makes possible […] “the fantasy of a risk-free life,” as if humankind could hold old age, finitude, and mortality at bay.

Yet there is a core of continuity in the biblical traditions and Christian doctrine. Concern for the poor, the destitute, the fatherless, and the widow is overwhelming in biblical traditions and Christian doctrine. The poor are a special concern of God’s, for they live on the edge of destitution, with no economic security. “You shall not worry or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Exod 22:21). “Because the poor are deported, because the needy groan, I will now rise up, says the LORD” (Ps 12:5). James writes, “Religion that is pure… is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world (Jas. 1:27). Here, once again, we see the importance of the dispositional character of belief. What people do with their pocketbook or purse exhibits in the bodily world of action what his or her faith amounts to; how it is lived out.”

Interestingly, Thiselton shares much common ground with Stephen Green, Chairman of HSBC Holdings plc., who gave a seminar yesterday on ‘Good Value: Money, Wealth and Morality in an uncertain world’. Firstly, both share a common insight to the dangers of the current economic system, especially in the area of credit. Credit, when used wrongly, leads to one developing greed; a sense that we can live the future in the present, in the now; and a mistaken idea that this economic dream could hold utopia for us – all the major tenets of consumerism (Stephen Green puts it in a different way, but nonetheless bearing the same concept). Secondly, both Thiselton and Green locate this desire for exchange between humans as a natural occurrence in human nature. Green highlights that since the earliest civilisations, humankind developed the need to exchange goods and services, and locates this urge or desire as a natural one. Thiselton expresses it more within the doctrine of what it means to be human. For him, being human, being created in the image of God means two important concepts will be expressed in our doctrinal horizon of understanding humanity – relationality and along with that, embodiment or ‘bodiliness’. We are created to relate to God and to one another, and this world, and we relate doing so in an embodied context within place, space and time. This desire for exchange between one another could be located in the exercising of power and wisdom for the flourishing of all creation, and the fact that we do so as embodied beings. Thirdly, both have rightly grounded the fault of all things not in the external economic system, but the internal heart condition that governs over the system, and expresses itself in the corrupting of the system. Interestingly, I have always had the thesis that the first mention of ‘city’ in Gen 4:17 must be located along two contexts or horizons arising from Genesis. The first is in light of the creational mandate Gen 1:28, and cities in that sense can be seen as part of a the development of this filling and subduing and ruling of the earth (the development of agriculture, music, and technology from 4:20-22 could further support this view). The second horizon is that of Gen 3 – the Fall. All this development happens in the context of the Fall, and hence we can expect almost a ‘natural corruption’ of this development (for example, we see this in modern cities today. Modern cities can be the place of vibrant culture, where we experience wonderful modern living and multitude cultures and experiences, but yet cities can be a devastating place in terms of alienating and isolating individuals from one another). In another words, as we look at economic cities, urbanisation, globalisation, we must realise these are not perfect structures or systems – they can never be and are not meant to be. Lastly, both Thiselton and Green remind us that in the midst of all these, we must hold onto hope – hope of a future which God alone will bring – and live out our lives in consistency with that hope, in this case, inwardly allowing the Spirit of God to transform our hearts and minds to contentment and wisdom and knowing truly what the (eternal) value of things are, and outwardly looking after the marginalised and oppressed where this fallen current system will naturally exclude them. In another words, how we view money and wealth and economic systems must be located within the horizons of the doctrines of man, sin, and eschatology!

Possible objections to the hermeneutics of doctrine?

2009-11-01T22:52:00.000-08:00

In chapters 7 & 8, Thiselton considers possible objections to the thesis he has been advocating in the Hermeneutics of Doctrine – that doctrine arises out of a dispositional account of belief; it is contingent, embodied in practices of life; communal, and formative. His predicted possible objections seem to be able to be classified under the following three categories.

Firstly, is it valid to use hermeneutical theories to apply it to Christian doctrine? Afterall, isn’t doctrine more concerned with coherence while hermeneutics and biblical exegesis more characterised by the respect for particularity? Doesn’t that bring the two into tension? Not apparently, Thiselton thinks so. The alleged tension is ‘more apparent than real’, he states (p.124). He quotes Pannenberg as one who held onto the importance of coherence in his view and understanding of systematic theology, but yet had a degree of contingency within that system. Thiselton states: “On the side of systematic theology, few have placed greater emphasis upon coherence than Wolfhart Pennenberg. […] Nevertheless this does not suggest, for Pannenberg, that the truth of Christian doctrine constitutes a “finished” system. First, all truth remains provisional upon the realisation of the eschaton. […] Second, if truth is derived from the living God who acts in ongoing history, the truth of doctrine and truth of God is disclosed “‘in a contingent manner.’” (p.125, his emphasis).

Second, does a communal, contingent, hermeneutical approach exclude epistemology i.e. if doctrine has a communal and contingent nature to it, then isn’t doctrine at the end of the day without any objective truth-claims, but merely the ‘product’ of ecclesial communities in particular situations? Thiselton answers with a resounding ‘No’. Quoting Pannenberg, he states that the truth of doctrine does not rest upon “a mere consensus theory of truth,” even if ecclesial consensus plays a role in the development of doctrine. It is not that the consensus of churches creates Christian doctrine, but that (quoting Pannenberg) “conviction of the divine truth of the Christian religion [establishes] and [justifies] the continual existence of Christian churches.” (p.126). Thiselton suggests that one of the main culprits leading to such a view is the general attack of “foundationalist epistemology”, which in turn is loosely and uncritically linked with modernity, ‘as if to suggest that all who have reservations about the one also reject the other, and thence turn toward the postmodern.’ (p.127). Thisleton goes on to differentiate between what he calls “hard” foundationalism and “soft” foundationalism, shunning the former but espousing the latter (p.128-130). He concludes this issue with the following (which arises from a context where he is critically evaluating the work of Richard Heyduck):

“On one side: a hermeneutic of doctrine affirms […] community, embodiment, narrative, drama, practices, wisdom, community identity, the place of the church as an interactive community […]. On the other side: none of this could be commended or accepted if it were to entail a retreat from epistemology; a consensus or social theory of truth; and an uncritical appropriation of the postmodern as such.” (p.131)

Elsewhere, he states: “A hermeneutic of doctrine prevents doctrine from becoming only a monologic discourse; a hermeneutic of doctrine prevents hermeneutics from becoming only relativistic.” (p.136, his emphasis).

Third, if much of hermeneutics consists is contingent-based, particular and formative, if hermeneutics consist of the two poles of “explanation” and “understanding” (where the former provides a critical or “checking” dimension while the latter provides a more creative and formative dimension), then in what way can we still speak of theology and doctrine as a “science”? Here (like in the previous 2 objections highlighted above), Thiselton draws on and discusses the work of many theologians or thinkers in hermeneutics, but what I found extremely useful is his discussion on T.F. Torrance, where he highlight’s Torrance’s five criteria for a “scientific” theology (p.148-49):

(1) The first is the utter lordship of the Object. The Knowledge of God entails an epistemological inversion. The human subject must not impose upon God as our Object of thought any prior categorisation or fixed horizon that will distort our understanding by speaking before we have listened. God speaks and humankind hears. Here is an inversion between subject and object (or better subject matter) – rather than subject study subject matter, here it is the subject matter transforming the subject!

(2) The second is an acknowledgement of the personal nature of the “Object “ of theology and doctrine. This is Jesus Christ as both “Person and Word”.

(3) The third is the notion of dialogue and conversation. The word of God creates “a community of conversation” that corresponds as far as possible with the “objectivity of the Object” and God’s glory. God gives himself as Lord, but in human form “within our space and time”. This coheres well with Thiselton’s earlier point of doctrine as communal, formative and embodied.

(4) The fourth is the centrality of Jesus Christ as the self-objectification of God for us in our humanity. This is the beginning point from which theological coherence grows. In another words, coherence in doctrine depends upon relating all theology ultimately to Christ.

(5) The fifth is the continual place and function of critique and self-critique (similar to the concept of “explanation”) in theology.

This leads Thiselton to conclude that ‘the nature of “theological science” place “scientific” theory firmly within a hermeneutical framework that not only allows but also positively nurtures formative, transformative, embodied, and dynamic doctrine’ (p.149, emphasis his). Further on, he writes, “Truth and understanding and their frame of reference remain dynamic, temporal, embodied, contingent, and provisional as well as coherent, and grounded in God.” (p.162)

Doctrine as Temporal and Doctrine as Drama

2009-10-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

In chapter 4 of The Hermeneutics of Doctrine , Thiselton explores the nature of doctrine as temporal and doctrine as drama (here, ‘temporal’ does not mean temporary, but rather it refers to the sense of temporality that is embedded within doctrine, i.e. the recognition that ‘God interacts with the world through actions marked by purpose, duration, periodicity, tempo, and eventfulness’ (p.64, emphasis his). In another words, meaning and truth are not “timeless” in relation to God). Thiselton states:

“Doctrines evolve often by responding to new challenges, [..] or in the context of changing languages or situations. But they also assume a living, dynamic, ongoing form, because God is the living, dynamic, ongoing God. If doctrine reflects the nature of God and derives ultimately from God, doctrine will be no less “living” and related to temporality than God, who acts in human history.

[...] The particularity, contingency, and temporality of hermeneutical inquiry remain not only appropriate but also necessary for exploring the truth-claims, meaning, and life-related dimensions of Christian doctrine. To say that doctrine is derived ultimately from God, far from suggesting that doctrine inhabits an abstract, timeless, conceptually pure domain, underlines the temporal and narrative character of its subject matter.” (p.63, emphasis his)

This sets the stage for Thiselton to go on exploring the concept of doctrine as narrative or drama. Borrowing from Ricoeur, Thiselton suggests that the coherence and continuity of narrative (or in this case, drama) depends on the three functions of expectation, attention, and memory. “Christian doctrine relates closely to memory of God’s saving acts in history; attention to God’s present action in continuity with those saving acts; and trustful expectation of an eschatological fulfilment of divine promise.” (p.65, emphasis mine) Hence, the appropriateness of the drama metaphor as a way of capturing the nature and effects of doctrine.

The following quote where Thiselton shares the similar viewpoints between himself and Vanhoozer captures the appropriateness of doctrine as drama:

“We share a common concern about the importance of doctrine and its current tragic neglect or apparent inability to inspire; a common emphasis on doctrine as practices of life, also expressed in worship; a common conviction about the foundations of the biblical writings defined in terms of canon, but also its continuity with an ongoing, developing tradition; a common belief that covenantal promise stands at the heart of divine communicative action and Christian theology, and that this grounds the currency of divine speech-action in the world; a common understanding of doctrine as formation that generates habits that generate performance; and the temporal logic of narrative embodying a coherent plot. The application of the term drama allows the dynamic and tensive nature of doctrine to remain prominently in view.” (p.77, emphasis mine)

A mouthful there... but good stuff!

Anthony Thiselton and the Hermeneutics of Doctrine

2009-10-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

I’m beginning a couple of new postings on Anthony C. Thiselton’s The Hermeneutics of Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans), 2007. For those of us familiar with Thiselton, he’s highly regarded in the area of hermeneutics. But in this book, he takes hermeneutical theories to cover not so much the biblical texts, but doctrine, i.e. his whole book is really about how we come to believe what we believe about our doctrine. He unpacks his proposal in the first section, discusses possible objections to it, and then proceeds in the third section of his book to apply his proposal and theory to the different key areas of Christian doctrine.

The key proposal Thiselton offers is that a dispositional account of belief stands at the heart of a hermeneutic of doctrine. He begins by suggesting in the first chapter that rather than think of doctrine as ‘solutions’ to free-floating “problems”, it is better (pace Gadamer) to understand doctrine within a ‘hermeneutical dialetic of question and answer’ (p.8), i.e. understanding the two horizons of understanding (the earlier original (‘their’) context and the present (‘our’) context), and seeing how these two horizons modify each other and merge to form a single, larger horizon (p.4). Thiselton suggests that this was how the early Christian confessions came about – they were a first-person way of expressing Christian identity and commitment called forth by specific settings or situations, in another words – it was how one nailed one’s colours to the mast. This prepares the way for the 2nd chapter where Thiselton heads into the dispositional account of belief. His central thesis is as summairsed on p.21:

“Belief, then, is action-oriented, situation-related, and embedded in the particularities and contingencies of everyday living. [...[ Action, contingency, particularity, and the public world of embodied life constitute part of the very grammar of what it is to believe. In the chapters that follow I argue that these features stand at the heart of a hermeneutic of doctrine. For hermeneutics is concerned with particularity and embodied life, as well as with a distinct dimension of coherence and with expanding horizons of understanding.” (emphasis his)

Anticipating the objection that such a thesis might lead to a behaviourist account of belief (causal mechanism akin to a conditioned reflex), Thiselton suggests the reverses is true. Rather, the dispositional account of belief he offers embodies within it the concept of habit and “training” or tradition, which enhances the moral and volitional dimension of the person/s believing by relating belief to the formation of character. In this regard, Thiselton highlights the advantage of seeing doctrine as drama in relation to training and performance, something which he discusses at greater depth in subsequent chapters.

Finally, Thiselton highlights that his thesis of a dispositional account of belief pertains to communal doctrine rather than only to individual belief. Thiselton argues ‘that “doctrine” must retain its epistemological status as necessarily embodying truth-claims that invite and indeed deserve belief, but on the other side [...] doctrine also carries with it inextricably a communal commitment and communal formation’ (p.21, emphasis his) . In another words, Thiselton is against the idea that belief in doctrine is merely what a community or body of believers ‘makes it out to be’, where in such a case, the epistemic question of whether there is really an objective truth-claim does not matter; but at the same time, Thiselton does retain the idea of the communal nature of belief in doctrine.

If I could summarise, what stands at the center of Thiselton’s proposal are the following tenets – doctrine is self-involving first-person belief utterances; it is located in action, contingency, particularity and is public; it involves disposition which (in following H. H. Price’s definition) is the reservoir of knowledge, understanding or conviction which the believer draws to perform appropriate belief utterances or habituated actions in the public domain (p.30); it involves habit and training, and finally it is communal. What an interesting proposal! More to come as we plod along in the book.

Penal Substitution in postmodernity - Thinking Deeper on PSA 5

2009-10-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

This will be the last post for the recent series on Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement, and it will summarise and review Kevin Vanhoozer’s essay ‘The Atonement in Postmodernity: Guilt, Goats and Gifts’ found in The Glory of the Atonement.

Vanhoozer begins by stating that PSA is viewed as scandalous by many postmoderns. And the scandal is often viewed as coming from three separate problems with PSA. Firstly, the methodological or “formal” problem – proponents of PSA have the tendency to reduce the many NT metaphors of speaking about the cross to one: penalty. The move is from many metaphors to one, and from the one metaphor to a single concept. Secondly, the soteriological or “material” problem – PSA seems to presuppose and operate from a divine “economy” where God distributes a particular response (in this case forgiveness) only after the appropriate payment (in this case Jesus’ death). Such an economy leads towards the direction of legitimising retaliation and retribution. In another words, the question here is – “Does God need to be placated before he can love and forgive? Is God party to an economy of retaliatory exchange?” (p.372). Thirdly, the pastoral or “political” problem – how can we preach and practice the atonement? Does PSA lead to practices that perpetuate suffering and abuse?

Drawing on key postmodern philosophers and theologians, Vanhoozer proceeds to show how postmodernity both challenges and contributes to PSA. The main thing he advocates for is that PSA in postmodernity must be seen to operate from what he calls an economy of excess rather than from the traditional view of an economy of exchange. He explores this concept under the following 3 aspects of PSA:
Guilt: justice as satisfaction or payment of debt (traditional) vs. Justice as what is in excess of the law (postmodern)
Goat: averting violence by sacrificial killing (traditional) vs. Denouncing violence by exposing the violence inherent in sacrifice (postmodern)
Gift: giving to get something back (traditional) vs. Giving without hope of return (postmodern)

Drawing on Ricoeur, Derrida, and Milbank, Vanhoozer both questions and affirms (in fact he ‘over-affirms’ by going beyond a sole or exclusive affirmation) the concept of justice as requiring some form of payment or satisfaction. Vanhoozer then turns mainly to Rene Girard’s ‘scapegoat’ mechanism to show how postmoderns see Jesus’ death not so much as a scapegoat to avert violence, but as the scapegoat that exposes the ‘scapegoat mechanism’ present in human cultures and societies – the ‘dark secret of civilisation that society and religion alike are founded on collective violence’ (p.384). However, Vanhoozer also offers some criticisms of Girard’s proposal. Lastly, Vanhoozer draws on the work of Jean-Luc Marion and Ricoeur to suggest a new viewpoint of gifts – not within the economy of exchange, but within the ‘hyper-economy of grace’ (p.396). He concludes this section with the following:
“The operative concept in postmodern theological understandings of the atonement is excess, not exchange. The death of Jesus exceeds our attempts to explain it. Postmodern treatments of the cross are thus “hyper economic.” They seek to articulate the saving significance of Jesus’ death in a way that goes beyond explanatory economies and propositional truths.” (p.396-97) (his emphasis)

Vanhoozer then proceeds in the final section of his essay to offer a constructive proposal of the atonement – God’s gift of Jesus’ Death for us. Vanhoozer suggest that the key NT word used to express the significance of Jesus’ death is the Greek word hyper, or simply “for”. He begins with Jesus’ Word at the last supper – “This is my body given for (hyper) you”, and states there are three key concepts within this statement that should not be missed – the covenant, the temple, and the Exodus. The first two, taken together, deal with the negative – Jesus’ earlier reference to his body as a temple (John 2:19-22) means that Jesus saw himself as the fulfilment of everything that Israel’s temple was and meant to be. And by saying his body is broken, Jesus is saying that he is the place where sin is dealt with, making life possible in the presence of God. As Vanhoozer himself emphasises, “The shed blood is a sign that God has proved this covenantal faithfulness precisely by undergoing the sanctions, legal and relational, for covenantal disobedience.” (p.398, his emphasis). The concept of covenantal disobedience is an important one for Vanhoozer in understanding how he sees the definition and demands of ‘justice’. Earlier in the essay he states that what we need is ‘some such phrase as “making right covenantal relationship” to catch both the objective and the subjective outcomes of Christ’s atoning work. The atonement makes things ‘right’ to be sure, but this righteousness is legal and interpersonal, objective and subjective’ (p.381, his emphasis). If the first two concepts of covenant and temple deal with the negative, then the third concept of Exodus deals with the positive. Vanhoozer suggests that Jesus’ describing of his death as ‘exodus’ (Luke 9:31) is Jesus’ way of stating the new promised land he is taking us to – the Kingdom of God which is the reign of God in our human hearts. Christ’s death makes possible God’s gift of the Holy Spirit – ‘Jesus gives his body and blood for us, and in return we receive his Spirit, the operative principle of the new covenant and of the new age’ (p.399, his emphasis). Perhaps there is no better way of summarising what is at the heart of Vanhoozer’s proposal than to quote from the man himself:
“Jesus’ death is ultimately the result of a divinely initiated reconciling act that deals with sin by forgiving it […] and by establishing a new hyper-economy of covenantal love. In this triune economy, Father, Son and Spirit give without reserve out of the abundance of their Trinitarian life and love. Perhaps this is the lesson of the atonement in postmodernity: that the triune God is excessive, so much so that God shares his overflowing love with creatures who are not God: “God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us” (Rom 5:5).” (p.400, his emphasis)

Vanhoozer ends his essay by suggesting how such a view of atonement leads to the definition of true religion and spirituality and leads to a life of obedience and worship – “to practice the doctrine of atonement is to offer oneself back to the Creator and Redeemer, to the glory of God.” (p.402). It also helps us to see how in the atonement, there is nothing less happening than the triune God giving himself to sinners taken to the limit and beyond; and the cross as the condition and source of great covenantal blessing – “in loving his enemies (Rom 5:10), God brings his covenant partner to justice, not simply retribution.” (p.403, his emphasis) What is Vanhoozer’s overall conclusion of the place of PSA? “The economy of covenantal grace is not exhausted by the logic of penal substitution even though the latter has a legitimate place.” (p.404).

In many ways, Vanhoozer offers a fresh penetrating insight into how postmodernity challenges and even contributes to our understanding of the cross. His suggestion of viewing God’s salvation as an economy of excess rather than an economy of exchange is a welcomed one. He still has a place for retributive punishment (though for him, that should not be the only or exhaustive way of viewing the cross), but he goes beyond retributive punishment to God’s excessive self-giving love which is at the heart of the divine economy of excess he is proposing. This, for Vanhoozer, is justice (granted that Vanhoozer here is going with the postmodern definition of it). The other helpful point is Vanhoozer ‘backing up’ his whole ‘divine economy of excess’ proposal not just from the work of postmodern philosophers or theologians, but from the whole biblical concept of the covenantal relationship between God and his people. For Vanhoozer, the covenant and the whole blessings associated with it is excessive in nature – it is grace. PSA is God taking upon himself the sanctions of the covenant so that we can enjoy the blessings of it. Such a refreshing perspective is surely a welcome – at least to me!

However, a few questions and thoughts remain. Firstly, there is another important aspect of Jesus’ understanding of his own death. Besides seeing himself within a covenantal framework, Jesus also saw himself very much in the role of the suffering servant of Israel (for a good work on this idea, refer to Peter Bolt’s The Cross From a Distance). Of course, the role of the suffering servant (even as spelt in Isaiah) is never divorced from the larger covenantal framework the whole relationship Israel had with God is based in, but it remains to be shown more explicitly how these two concepts tie in together in Jesus’ understanding of his death. Secondly, while Vanhoozer has explained the concept of justice (both restorative and retributive) by the concept of covenant, one questions if the concept of covenant or covenantal love can totally exhaust this idea. From Romans 1-2, the Apostle Paul explains God’s wrath against the world and mankind, but it would be difficult to explain that within a covenantal framework (unless one goes with the concept of covenant of works with Adam etc. which I personally find it hard to substantiate from the Scriptures). In another words, the deeper metaphysical questions of the nature of God’s justice still needs to be explained and explored as we explore PSA, and while the concept of covenant complements it and is part of the explanation, it does not exhaust it. This leads to the third and final point – while Vanhoozer admits that PSA has a legitimate place in ‘the economy of covenantal grace’, can we go a step further to explore what place it has and how central is that place? Perhaps postmoderns will accuse such a step of stripping the ‘otherness’ of the atonement and trying to totalise the atonement with a theory; nevertheless we must ask, with the full revelation of God revealed in salvation history, can we see how the different aspects of the one atonement might be brought out, without either diluting their diversity or compromising on the overall unity? Such an attempts calls for nothing less than a combination of biblical theology and systematic theology

The ontological significance of penal substitution - thinking deeper on PSA 4

2009-10-11T09:04:00.000-07:00

Bruce McCormack has an interesting essay ‘The Ontological Presuppositions of Barth’s Doctrine of the Atonement’ in The Glory of the Atonement. He states that we must not separate the work of Christ from the person of Christ in our systematic theology considerations. A response to the challenges facing PSA today hence requires us to integrate PSA not only ‘into a well-ordered Christology, but into a well-ordered doctrine of the Trinity as well’ (p.348). And here is where he suggests Barth offers a great deal of help.

McCormack begins by exploring the importance of the Chalcedonian formula for understanding the person and work of Christ – the two natures (human and divine) coming together in the one person of our Lord Jesus Christ. The two natures ‘ “come together into a single person and a single subsistent being” and that, as such, “he is not parted or divided into two persons, but is one and the same only-begotten Son, God, Word, Lord Jesus Christ.”’ In another words, the unity of divine and human in Jesus is expressed in the singularity or one-ness of the person, in whom are found two distinct natures (p.349-50). In another words, it is not God in a human, but God as a human. The Chalcedonian formula is both helpful and crucial in understanding the unity of human and divine in Christ.

However, McCormack suggests that it still leaves some “unattended issues”. In the traditional Chalcedonian thinking, the Logos is thought of as the ruling principle of Christ’s human nature. This leaves open the suggestion that ‘the human nature is reduced to the status of a passive instrument in the hands of the Logos; it is the object upon which the Logos acts’ (p.352). It also leaves open the question ‘who is the Logos?’ Merely a human being? That’s an answer which we would label under “liberal” theology and one which is excluded by the Chalcedonian formula. The Logos simpliciter (the eternal logos)? Such an answer is not excluded by the Chalcedonian formula and is an answer that would promote the idea mentioned above of the Logos as the operative agent and the human nature as merely an object through which the Logos acts. Or should the Logos be thought of as the God-human in his divine-human unity? McCormack suggests that in our outworking of the Chalcedonian formula, we have more often than not headed towards the second option. And he suggests the reason why we head down this path is because of our concept of “divine immutability” – It was unthinkable for the ancients that God could suffer and die. Hence we
“[abstract] the Logos from his human nature in order, by turns, now to make of the human nature something to be acted upon by the Logos and now to make of that nature a subject in its own right in order to seal the Logos off hermeneutically from all that befalls that human nature from without. In both cases, the Logos is abstracted from the human nature he assumed, and the Chalcedonian formula is read in terms of the second [possibility] rather than the third.” (p.355) (my emphasis)

McCormack further suggests that the reason why we hold on to this concept of “divine immutability” is because of our “substantialism” – our “substance” way of thinking of God’s “essence”. In such a way of thinking, “substance” is what it is that makes for the self-identical element in “persons” and it is complete in itself. In another words, when we define the essence of God in terms of his substance, we
“[…] make the essence of God to be complete apart from, and prior to, all of his decisions and acts. At most, what God does (whether in eternity or in time) manifests, or gives expression to, what he is, but what God does in no sense constitutive of what God is.” (p.357) (his emphasis)

McCormack advocates that pursuing this line of thinking to its very end means that it will become impossible to understand the human nature of Jesus Christ as the human nature of the eternal logos. Any attribution of anything “human” to the Logos would set aside the “immutalibility” of the Logos. Our understanding of the Chalcedonian formula would hence always vacillate between Apollinarianism (where the human nature is purely passive and is acted upon by the Logos) or Nestorianism (where the human nature is fully operative and where the Logos is ‘sealed off’ from its effects)!

Here is where Barth comes in, McCormack states. Barth advocates two inter-related things. Firstly, Barth replaces divine immutability which has been controlled by “substantialistic ontology” with what McCormack terms “historicized ontology” – who God is (his essence) is constituted by his sovereign and free act of self-determination in the incarnation. Secondly and inter-related, this self-determinaton is not one that happened improtu or unplanned, but is one that happened in eternity, i.e. it is an eternal decision. Pulling the two together, this means
“[…] that the being of God in eternity is a being-in-act; a “being” that is realised in the act of self determination for incarnation, and so forth. There is no state, no mode of being or existence above and prior to this eternal act of self-determination as substantialistic thinking would lead us to believe. God’s being in eternity is a being-in-act. And when, in time, he does that which he determined for himself in eternity, no change is brought about in him on an ontological level.” (p.359) (my emphasis)

All this means that for Barth, the second person of the Trinity is ‘not and never was the Logos simpliciter’. “The second person of the Trinity has- already in eternity – a name, and his name is Jesus Christ.” (p.360).

The implication of McCormack’s thought means that we can now truly think of the subject of our redemption not as a mere human being (option 1), nor as the Logos simpliciter (option 2), but really as ‘the Logos as human means’ (option 3). This means that whatever happens to the God-human in and through his human nature happens to the God-human in his divine-human unity, which means that whatever we think of as a human experience is taken up into the divine life and happens to the Logos as human. The implication for PSA is that we must not conceive of PSA as an action of God directed toward an innocent human being, nor even as an action of God the Father toward an “eternal Son” (conceived of as the Logos simpliciter, in abstraction from the human nature he assumed). But rather, PSA is an ‘event between the eternal Father and the Logos as human’ (p.364). The significance is this: PSA is where
“the human experience of “the penalty of death” that humans have merited through their sinfulness is taken into the very life of God himself. [...] The triune God pours his wrath out upon himself in and through the human nature that he has made his own in his second mode of his being – that is the ontological significance of penal substitution. The triune God takes this human experience into his own life [...] and in doing so, he vanquishes its power over us. That [...] is the meaning of penal substitution when seen against the background of a well-ordered Christology and a well-ordered doctrine of the Trinity.” (p.364).

I have two comments of McCormack’s proposal. The first is that McCormack has provided us a thorough-going and well detailed exploration into the Chalcedonian formula and its application to PSA, and in doing so, has highlighted the deeper ‘inconsistencies’ in the Formula when pressed to its upmost degree. And that is, as much as the Chalcedonian Formula tries to state the unity of the two natures in the one person, the refusal (due to our “substantialistic” way of thinking) to allow human experiences to be taken up into the person of the Logos (thought of as the Logos simpliciter) means that we will either reduce the human nature to a totally passive role in that it is merely an object acted upon or we will elevate the human nature such that it is totally operative and ‘seal’ off the Logos Simpliciter from any human experiences. This leads to the inconsistency. McCormack ‘s proposal allows for human experiences to be taken up into the divine life through the Logos as the God-man in its God-man unity. The implication for PSA is that there is so much more weight now when we say what happens in PSA is that ‘God Himself enters into his own wrath’ and that ‘God Himself steps in and bears our sin’. In fact, I am wondering if McCormack’s proposal might serve a solution to the logical difficulty posed by Oliver Crisp (see previous post) about whether Jesus in any way could have borne our guilt and our sin itself (though he definitely bears the penalty of our sin). If, taking Barth’s thoughts one step further, Jesus the God-man is both the object as well as the subject of election, if Jesus is both the elected one in that He is both the condemned one (reprobate one) and the one who experiences salvation as the true representative of humanity, then would that provide a way to explain how our guilt and sin is actually borne by Jesus, because our humanity is understood in light of this crucial eternal decision of God to become man for us? However, I am well aware of the consequences of such thinking, which in turn leads me to my second comment of McCormack’s proposal, and that is McCormack does not trace out the full implications of Barth’s thinking in this essay. And if McCormack did so, then we would inevitably end up with the bigger question (and one of the criticisms of Barth’s theology) of universalism (See Garry Williams ‘Karl Barth and the doctrine of the atonement’ in Engaging with Barth (Nottingham: APOLLOS; 2008), esp.262-270 for a fuller engagement). The question is whether we can go ‘part of the way’ with Barth’s thesis, or whether logic and consistency would have us go all the way – a question reserved for another time another place.

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 3

2009-10-09T08:31:00.000-07:00

In this third post, we will explore some of the theological issues pertaining to PSA, as gleaned from the essays from The Atonement Debate and The Glory of The Atonement.

In ‘Penal Substitution: A response to recent criticisms’ (Atonement), Garry Williams addresses 4 criticisms levelled against PSA – that PSA entails a mistaken doctrine of God by ascribing retributive justice to him; that PSA conflicts with the doctrine of the Trinity by severing the Father from the Son; that PSA grows out of modern Western individualism with its conception of “autobiographical justice”, and that PSA is guilty of doctrinal isolation in that it has no place for the life of Jesus, it cannot account for the cosmic scope of the work of Christ, and it undermines the need for moral renewal in the life of the believer subsequent to conversion (p.172-173). Williams handles each criticism in turn.

For the first criticism, Williams highlights that punishment can be intrinsic, follow from an act (i.e. as cause-and-effect), and yet still be retributive in character, especially if the punishment is deliberately brought about by some superhuman agency. This is against the definition of the opponents of PSA who restrict retribution to purely extrinsic and voluntarily and not part of a cause-and-effect sequence. Williams also highlights that retributive punishment can be imposed for both the acts and the character behind the acts, with the acts serving as evidence of the character. Finally, Williams highlights that punishment can be both personal and retributive in nature, as in the case with God’s judgement. There is no antithesis between the two – one can be in a non-relationship with Christ and that non-relationship can be seen as retributive punishment as well.

For the second criticism that PSA acts against the doctrine of the Trinity, Williams reminds us of Augustine’s principle that since the Father, Son, and Spirit are inseparable, so they work inseparably. Jesus must not be thought of as purely the object in the atonement, and the Father the subject. Rather, Jesus himself is also the subject (he willingly lays down his life John 10:17-18), and even if his role within the Godhead in atonement is distinguished as the object, he is a willing object. Against the third criticism of individualism, Williams states that PSA in fact operates on a denial of individualism – the ‘guilty individual is not punished for his or her own sins as an individual. Rather, corporate categories are powerfully at work in the historic doctrine of penal substitution’ (p.181). But rather, in Christ our corporate head, as we become members of his body in the mystical spiritual bond between us and Christ, we find our punishment taken on our behalf and forgiveness found. Williams in fact suggests that this understanding of ‘corporate substitution’ will lend itself well in a postmodern culture which holds to ‘a communal accounting of human nature’ (p.183). Against the fourth criticism, Williams uses the idea of ‘Jesus as new Israel’ (as emphasised by N.T. Wright) to show how his whole life exemplified the pattern of PSA - “Jesus is Israel, and he is exiled. Exile is the punishment for Israel’s disobedience, and Jesus takes it on himself as the new Israel. Having borne the penalty for sin, he then rises to life and brings forgiveness.” (p.183). Williams also states that PSA has a cosmic renewal element to it as well – it is precisely because Jesus exhausted the curse of spiritual death that there can be resurrection and new creation. Finally, PSA also leads to moral renewal as Rom 6 so clearly teaches – “we died to sin, how can we live in it any longer?”

In conclusion, Williams states:

“Penal substitution is central because of its explanatory power with regards to the justice of the other models of the atonement. Note that such a claim affirms rather than denies the existence of other models, but it also affirms the centrality of penal substitutionary atonement to them.” (p.188).

In ‘Atonement, Creation and Trinity’ (Atonement), Graham McFarlane affirms that ‘the doctrine of creation provides the backdrop against which our thinking of the cross and the Trinity must be developed’ (p.194). Our understanding of humanity is hence bound up with our understanding of ourselves as relational beings (“we are to the degree we relate” p.195); sin is a manifestation of disordered relating and relationships and hence nothing less than a relational catastrophe; and hence the cross addresses ‘a multilayered network of relational associations it seeks to resolve’ (p.200). It is against this backdrop that McFarlane suggests that what happens on the cross is nothing less than the ‘place where the Lord of creation both covers our sins and stems the consequences of our relational dysfunction’ and he does so out of his initiative, not ours (p.202). Is there a place for justice within this backdrop? Yes, McFarlane proposes, but it is to be placed within the context of the Father’s love (McFarlane states that we must not think of PSA as God does not necessarily need to love but he does need to judge), and we must not think of atonement as primarily a desire for justice; rather, it is the restoration of relationship that is on view. McFarlane states, “divine love reshapes divine justice and does so by going beyond the boundaries established by normal law” (p.204). In line with his ‘relational’ backdrop, atonement for McFarlane is also covered comprehensively not just by Jesus’ death, but also by his incarnation, his life of obedience and his resurrection.

Finally, in ‘The Logic of Penal Substitution Revisited’ (Atonement), Oliver Crisp shows his strength in philosophical theology by examining in detail the logic of PSA. After outlining the assumptions behind PSA and restating the doctrine, Crisp outlines 4 ‘logical’ problems with PSA – i) Whether the doctrine of PSA reduces the love of God to something arbitrary in that God chooses to love only an elect, less than the total number of humanity, on no other basis than that he wills to do so ii) PSA seems to limit God from being able to simply forgive sin iii) Does PSA entail the actual transfer of sin from the sinner to Christ, and not just the transfer of penal consequences of that sin from the sinner to Christ? iv) Does PSA also mean guilt is transferred?

Crisp answers by first stating the PSA means that its proponents have to (or must) allow a concept of legal relaxation that applies to Christ’s atonement i.e. Christ is able to take on the punishment for sin because God decides that Christ’s work satisfies the requirement for sin, and God is willing to accept Christ’s work as a substitute for the sin of those human beings whom Christ came to save. Built into this is also the premise that the legal relaxation of punishment in the case of the atonement is consistent with divine justice. With regards to problem i), Crisp states that the problem is not so much one of penal substitution as a theory of the atonement but the way in which this theory is applied. If the defender of PSA holds onto particular redemption, then an arbitrariness problem does follow. “But a defender of PSA does not need to embrace this conclusion simply because they think PSA is right” (p.221). With regards to problem ii), Crisp suggests that the assumptions behind PSA already weakens the argument – ‘if divine justice is both retributive and inexorable such that God cannot permit forgiveness without punishment or satisfaction, then God cannot simply forgive sin without satisfaction being made’ (p.221). With regards to iii) and iv), Crisp honestly admits that this poses for the proponent of PSA a serious problem. I quote him:

“[…] The central problem with penal substitution remains: it is not possible for the sin and guilt of one individual to be transferred to another individual. […] Perhaps God can relax his justice to the extent that he can accept a vicarious satisfaction of the infinite debt owed by human beings instead of punishing them. If God can do this, it is a legal arrangement that has no obvious parallel in human penal transactions and still appears to be unjust, even if it is not arbitrary. And this problem alone poses serious difficulties for the traditional arguments for penal substitution.” (p.223).

However, Crisp states ‘matters are not as bleak’ as what is suggested. Crisp proposes 2 possibilities. The first is to go for an Anselmian satisfaction theory instead of a penal substitution theory. This ‘is a robust doctrine of atonement that delivers much of what penal substitution promises without some of the more problematic aspects of penal substitution’ (p.223). The other way is to ‘salvage’ the traditional doctrine of PSA by appealing to Augustinian realism, where God ‘constitutes humanity one metaphysical whole for the purposes of the imputation of sin’ (p.224). This calls for a closer examination of the doctrine of union with Christ – not just to see how Union with Christ provides us a way to see the benefits of salvation applied to us; but also how union with Christ can provide a robust doctrine of PSA – a task which I would very much like to take up in the future!

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 2

2009-10-08T08:05:00.000-07:00

In this post, I will attempt to summarise the key points from some of the essays from The Atonement Debate and The Glory of The Atonement which explore the biblical foundation or basis of PSA.

First up is Ian Howard Marshall’s ‘The Theology of the Atonement’ (Atonement). Marshall begins helpfully by suggesting four views that can be held about PSA (p.50):

The principle of PSA does not figure in the NT at all

It is only one of the pictures, metaphors, or analogies used in the NT to express the significance of the death of Jesus Christ. Some might argue that in this case it is of lesser importance or even dispensable

It occurs to such an extent that it is not only indispensable but also the most important

It is the underlying principle present in all the others and the factor that makes them cohere.

Marshall contends that though terms like ‘penal’ and ‘anger’ and ‘appeasement’ are open to misunderstanding, when properly understood, they express the heart of the matter (p.51). This is because ‘the reality of final judgement as the active response of God to human sin is an absolutely central part of the predicament from which sinners need to be saved’ (Ibid.) Marshall suggests that such a picture of judgement and condemnation is conveyed by the complex network of terminologies such as punishment, vengeance, wrath, judgement, and destruction and death found throughout the NT. This teaching of judgement and condemnation ‘cannot be pushed to one side as being less important than the other aspects of human sin and need’ (p.53); neither should wrath and judgement be made something impersonal and mechanistic rather than the personal reaction of the living God. He states: “To deny that God feels negatively about sin is a denial of the personal character of God, who reacts to evil that ruins his creation and destroys his relationship with his creatures.” (p.54) Marshall then contends a step further that the NT uses this kind of language about God’s judgement and wrath because he is holy (or righteous) and loving, two irreducible facets of the character of God. Citing the work of P.T. Forsyth, Marshall contends that the holiness of God must figure centrally in any doctrine of the atonement, and that at the cross, holiness is divinely satisfied once for all. Marshall then moves on to ask a further question – even if PSA is clearly present as one NT understanding of the death of Christ, is it principal and determinative? Marshall answers this question by stating how the death of Christ is portrayed in biblical terms in the NT – sacrifice, curse, redemption and ransom, reconciliation, and forgiveness (p.59-61). He states:

“It is clear that essentially the same basic principle is expressed in each of these different understandings of the death of Jesus. The principle of one person bearing the painful consequences of sin is the modus operandi of the different understandings of the cross. There are different nuances [...] But the central action, common to them all, is God doing something in Christ that involves the death of Christ, who bears our sins and the painful consequences of them. Christ’s sacrifice saves us from exclusion from the kingdom of God. The term “penal substitution” appropriately expresses this process.” (p.61).

I found Marshall’s essay to be very helpful in thinking about PSA from the biblical evidence. Without zooming into specific passages (due to lack of space), Marhsall paints broad strokes from the canvas of the NT, with a clear methodology outlining and leading to his conclusion. His book which explores these issues at a wider depth, Aspects of the Atonement: Cross and Resurrection in the Reconciling of God and Humanity (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2007) will certainly be worth getting.

Christopher Wright explores atonement in the OT in his essay of the same title (Atonement). With broad strokes similar to Marshall, he highlights the problem or predicament as described in the OT under 8 brilliant headings: A relationship that is broken: the relational aspect; The disturbance of shalom: the social aspect; Rebellion against authority: the covenantal aspect; Guilt that necessitates punishment: the legal aspect; Uncleanness and pollution: the ritual aspect; Shame and disgrace on oneself and/or on God: the emotional aspect; An accumulating burden: the historical aspect, and Death: the final aspect. This leads to his conclusion that atonement language is one part of this “putting right”, but the solution requires more than just a satisfaction of the penal or legal aspect of the problem. The other interesting point raised is that regarding the purpose or function of the levite sacrifices – are they expiatory or propitiatory? Wright states ‘both’. He states, “Putting things right, then, includes both a God-oriented and a human-orientated dimension. Sacrifice both cleanses the worshipper and “soothes” the wrath of God.” (p.77). Lastly, Wright also states correctly that ‘the language of sacrificial substitution and vicarious sin-bearing runs through Isaiah 53 unmistakeably’ (p.80).

The third essay is that by Steve Motyer ‘the Atonement in Hebrews’ (Atonement). Motyer begins by stating his conclusion – that ‘penal substitution does not provide a useful summary of Hebrews’ teaching about the atonement, and that Hebrews does indeed say different things about what Jesus did for us on the cross – things that are truly glorious and worship-raising but are not penal substitution’ (p.136). Motyer contends instead that Hebrews presents a picture of the death of Jesus as Jesus who shares in our suffering (with death as its supreme expression), and who because of that, becomes the High Priest who attains perfection and brings his people with him, i.e. a ‘representative leading us to perfection over death’ view of the atonement. While providing an interesting argument, Motyer has one fundamental flaw in his methodology – he assumes a strong discontinuity between the OT and the NT, so much so that he states that ‘the sacrifice of Christ is different from those of the old covenant. This means that we cannot use the Old Testament to explain what God was doing in Christ’ (p.139). Motyer’s presupposition has blinded him to what seems like a clear evidence that the purpose of the writer of Hebrews was not so much to show the discontinuity of Jesus from the OT sacrificial type, but more to show the continuity, and in fact beyond the continuity to show Jesus as the final fulfilment.

Overall, where does this lead us? I hope it is clear that PSA does have a firm biblical warrant or basis from the Scriptures as one way of presenting the atoning death of Jesus. The question is how central or key is this particular way of understanding Jesus’ death? Strange enough, this question does not seem to be the question opponents of PSA are contending against. Rather, they seem determined to keep PSA out of the picture altogether (position 1 under Marshall’s proposal). As what Garry Williams highlighted, this is ironic since opponents of PSA often call for a more ‘multicoloured’ view of the cross, but yet it is they who reduce the historical diversity by rejecting one major model. But agreeing that PSA has biblical warrant as one of the ways of viewing Jesus’ death is but the bare minimum. We can go further than that. As what Marshall suggested, there is evidence across the biblical canvas to suggest that PSA expresses the heart of the matter. Perhaps what is needed is an acknowledgement that we should not speak of discrete ‘models’ of the atonement, but rather we should speak of different aspects of the one atonement, and try to see how these aspects cohere and relate to one another and whether any one aspect of the atonement rightly organises or illumines or takes precedence over the others.

Thinking Deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement 1

2009-10-08T00:10:00.000-07:00

September has been spent reading and thinking deeper on Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA)– mainly from essays of two books on the subject, The Atonement Debate: Papers from the London Symposium on the theology of atonement (ed. Derek Tidball, David Hilborn, & Justin Thacker; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), and The Glory of the Atonement (ed. Charles E. Hill & Frank A. James III; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004).
I hope to, in the following posts, address some of the issues. We begin with objections to PSA.

Steve Chalke in ‘The Redemption of the Cross’ (Atonement) presents why he is against PSA. Incidentally, the current debate on PSA was ‘revived’ in part by Chalke’s The Lost Message of Jesus. Biblically, Chalke argues that PSA does not fit comfortably the ‘multicoloured rather than monochrome’ presentation of the theology of the atonement in the New Testament (though he admits there is substitution in the atonement, just not of a penal nature). In one portion of the essay, Chalke candidly states his difficulty with PSA:
“The greatest theological problem with penal substitution is that it presents us with a God who is first and foremost concerned with retribution for sin that flows from his wrath against sinners. The only way for his anger to be placated is in receiving recompense from those who have wronged him, and although his great love motivates him to send his Son, his wrath remains the driving force behind the need for the cross.” (p.39)
Historically, Chalke (quoting Joel Green and Mark Baker) argues that supporters of PSA have tended to “read back” modern views of PSA onto ancient texts or writings of the church fathers or early Christian writers to bolster their claims - the most famous example of which is the work of Anselm of Canterbury. Culturally, PSA fosters violence (“Penal substitutionary theory betrays Jesus’ attempt to root out the tendency of religion to lead to violence by inventing a theology of his death that is in direct opposition to his teaching”, p.41), and reflects ‘the 19th and 20th century culturally dominant values of individualism, autonomy and consumerism’. Pastorally and ethically, PSA seems to offer instant forgiveness without challenging basic day-to-day moral behaviour (ibid.) For Chalke, the best idea or concept that helps capture the story of salvation lies very closely to the Christus Victor view . He states in closing:
“It is Easter Sunday, not Good Friday, that shows the new kingdom in all its glory and God’s love in all its fullness. On the cross, Jesus does not placate God’s anger in taking the punishment for sin but rather absorbs its consequences and, as three days later he is raised, defeats death. It is the resurrection which finally puts the Victor in Christus Victor!” (p.44)

Another essay heading in the same direction is that of Joel Green ‘Must we imagine the atonement in penal substitutionary terms? Questions, caveats and a plea’ (Atonement). Green begins by referring to the Apostles’ Creed – how though the place of the cross is vitally important, the Creed remains silent when it comes to the more specific question of how Jesus’ death is salvific. This means, as Green proposes, that ‘one can inhabit the land of Christian orthodoxy, classically defined, without embracing a particular theory of the atonement, be it the now-regnant penal substitutionary model or some other’ (p.154). Green also states his view that mere or more biblical exegesis only will not solve the question. Rather, ‘larger issues are operating’ (p.155). Green’s contention against PSA is that it ‘strips Jesus’ death from its historical context in the Roman world and from its narrative context in the Gospels. Theologically, the model of penal substitutonary atonement eclipses the historical particularity of Jesus’ crucifixion, resulting in a serious deficit of interest in the incarnation and in Jesus’ human life and mission’ (p.159), i.e. PSA seems to advocate a view where only the death of Jesus is important – his incarnation, his obedient and faithful life, and his resurrection are at best sidelined, and at worst ignored. Green then proceeds on to name three questions that arise from biblical exegesis regarding PSA. The first is ‘by what logic can it be assumed that anger is quenched by acting upon it [through PSA]’ (p.160) – in another words, does the transfer of guilt satisfy the demands of justice? (A vital question which Oliver Crisp deals with in his brilliant essay ‘the logic of penal substitution revisited’ in the same volume, which I hope to address later). Secondly, if the Apostle Paul depended on the Old Testament notion of atoning sacrifice, there is no strict connection that the OT idea of sacrifice concerns the appeasement of God’s wrath; or that the appeasement of God’s wrath is the best way to articulate the instrumentality of that atonement (Green here is returning to the ‘expiation’ vs. ‘propitiation’ debate about the nature of OT sacrifices). Thirdly, in response to those who suggest that Rom 3:21-26 builds upon the picture of a God of wrath from Rom 1-2, Green contends that there is nothing to suggest that the wrath of God in Rom 1-2 is vindictive indignation or the anger of divine retribution. Rather, it is God’s divine response to human unfaithfulness. He states, “wicked acts do not stir up the wrath of God but are themselves already the consequences of the active presence of God’s wrath. That is, sinful activity if the result of God’s letting us go our own way, and this letting us go our own way constitutes God’s wrath.” (p.163). Culturally, Green also suggests that PSA is greatly indebted to ‘its incubation in an environment structured around individualism and mechanism’ – ‘individualism’ where we understand the death of Jesus in forensic terms focused on the status of the individual before God; and ‘mechanism’ where we are only satisfied with views of the atonement that clarify “how” in objective, cause-effect relations (p.164-65). In conclusion, Green states, “In short, the model of penal substitutionary atonement provides, at best , no basis for a thoroughgoing soteriology and, at worst, stands in its way.” (p.167).

I refer to these two essays because together, they summarise the main arguments against PSA and show the kind of attacks PSA is subjected under today – from the biblical exegesis front (is PSA a true or even accurate picture of the atonement from the wealth of biblical passages or the whole biblical storyline?); from the logic front (how does PSA work logically? Can it even by transferring guilt actually work in satisfying justice?); from the historical theology front (Does PSA accurately represent the views of the church fathers or early Christian writers?); from the systematic theology front (What is the doctrine of God assumed in the view of PSA or any other view for that matter?); from the ethics front (Does PSA promote ‘cheapened’ Christian living?); and from the cultural and contemporary front (Is PSA flourishing only because of the modern cultural context of individualism we are in? Is PSA still needed and useful in postmodernity?) These are huge questions which I hope to start addressing in subsequent posts.

Salt and Light

2009-09-10T02:07:00.001-07:00

Matthew 5:13-16 13 "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. 14 "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

The central idea of the Sermon on the Mount for John Stott is as evidenced by the title of his commentary on the Sermon: Christian Counter-Culture (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1978; subsequently reprinted under the Bible Speaks Today Series). Stott states and believes that if the church accepted Jesus’ standards and values as stated in the Sermon, it would be the alternative society he always intended it to be, and it would offer to the world an authentic Christian counter-culture (p.10).

As much as I’m a fan of Stott’s, I’m not fully convinced that Christian counter-culture serves as the exegetical idea of the Sermon i.e. counter-culture was what Jesus had in mind as he spoke these words or even what Matthew had in mind as he wrote the words of Jesus down. I still stand persuaded that the central idea of the Sermon is discipleship (being followers of Jesus) and what that will look like in the Kingdom of Heaven which He has inaugurated. Nonetheless, I admit that Christian counter-culture will be one of the implications of discipleship i.e. as disciples live out the life of the Kingdom and the way of following Jesus, they will be a counter-culture in this world we live in. In another words, I agree with Stott’s proposal that counter-culture forms as a good central idea for homelitics.

To that end, here’s some brilliant thoughts from Stott as to why salt and light form such an ideal metaphor for his argument that as Christians we cannot withdraw but must engage with society and culture. He states four things we can learn as Christians regarding social engagement and involvement from Jesus’ usage of the metaphor:

1) Christians are fundamentally different from non-Christians. The world is dark, but we are its light. The world is decaying, but we are to be its salt and hinder its decay.
2) Christians must permeate non-Christian society. Although Christians are (or should be) morally and spiritually distinct from non-Christians, we are not to be socially segregated. We are not to remain aloof from society, where we cannot affect it, but we are to be immersed in its life.
3) Christians can influence non-Christian society. The function of salt is to preserve, the function of light is to dispel darkness. This means that as Christians, we can hinder social decay and dispel the darkness of evil. We should not be bewailing the world’s deteriorating standards with an air of rather self-righteous dismay, but rather we should be asking, ‘Where is the church? Why are the salt and light of Jesus Christ not permeating and changing our society?’ It is sheer hypocrisy on our part to raise eyebrows, shrug shoulders or wring our hands. Stott goes on to say, ‘The Lord Jesus told us to be the world’s salt and light. If therefore darkness and rottenness abound, it is our fault and we must accept the blame.
4) But in all this, Christians must retain their Christian distinctiveness. On the one hand, we have to permeate non-Christian society, and immerse ourselves in the life of the world. On the other hand, while doing so, we have to avoid becoming assimilated to the world. We must retain our Christian convictions, values, standards, and lifestyle.

(the above four points are adapted from Jeffrey P. Greenman, ‘John R. W. Stott’, in The Sermon on the Mount Through the Centuries (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2007),275. Image is from flickr.com)

Interpreting the Ethics of the Sermon on the Mount

2009-09-05T19:00:00.000-07:00

There is no or little denial that Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount provide a stirring ethical challenge to all, Christians and non-Christians alike. Even Mahatma Gandhi appreciated its teaching and the high morality found within. But a bigger and more pressing question remains before one can accurately apply the ethical teachings - how should we understand and interpret the ethics of the Sermon on the Mount in the first place? With what hermeneutical rule should we bear in mind as we read the Sermon?

Graham Stanton has presented what I think are the five key questions for a right interpretation or hermeneutical approach (from his article ‘Sermon on the Mount/Plain’ in Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels). I have rephrased the questions slightly, tweaked the order in which they appear, and provided some comments on each of them.

1) Is the Sermon directed to all people or only to Christians? Of the prominent theologians that I have read concerning their interpretation of the Sermon - Luther, Calvin, Wesley, Bonhoeffer and John Stott (and just in case you were wondering, this reading comes from a useful book The Sermon on the Mount through the Centuries (ed. Jeffrey Greenman, Timothy Larsen and Stephen Spencer; Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2007)), all agree that the whole Sermon or at least a majority of it applies only to Christians. This makes sense in light of the Scriptural text – Jesus sees the crowds, he goes up on the mountain, and (only) the disciples come to him, and he begins teaching them (Matt 5:1-2). The sermon is also bracketed by two sections of narratives which emphasise the theme of the calling of Jesus and discipleship (Matt 4:18-22 and Matt 8:18-22). This is a particular important point especially for Bonhoeffer, whose hermeneutical approach to the ethics of the Sermon could be summarised as an Ethics of Discipleship (The Cost of Discipleship – see my earlier posts on him here and here). This means that all hermeneutical interpretations of the Sermon belonging to liberalism – where the Sermon is thought to be the essential map for building a progressive and (moral) civilization – is blown out of the water. For a discipleship-approach presupposes that we need Jesus as our Saviour, whereas liberalism presupposes that we merely need Jesus as at best a transformer of our decaying morality. Nonetheless, I agree with John Stott, for whom the central understanding of the Sermon can be characterised by the term ‘Christian counter-culture’. While the Sermon pertains to Christians, it will bring us into contact and in fact abrasion with the wider world, simply because the Sermon is so counter-culture to the ethos of our day and age.

2) Is the sermon for all time? Or only for an interim age, be it an age that has past us or is coming? (Question of eschatology and the application of the Sermon) There are further variations to the above question. Some view that the sermon is valid only for an interim age before the coming of the Spirit (which means we today have gone past that age). Others view it as an ethic of the interim age for Israel before the return of Christ, while others view it as an ethic for Israel for all time. But one thing is common. All these variations share a common mother thought – that of dispensationalism. Carson presents some compelling reasons why this is not the case (The Sermon on the Mount (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2001 ed.), 168-170). The main reason is that the dispensationalist approach to the Sermon relies so heavily on the larger dispensationalist theological framework that it obscures the reading of the text. In another words, rather than the Scriptural text of the Sermon leading to or confirming our theological framework, the Dispensationalist framework tends to ‘twist’ our reading of the Sermon in a certain way. I admit that the same accusation can be made of us who hold to a more ‘biblical-theological’ approach of reading Scripture. The challenge is to adopt (what one of the lecturers in College called) the heuristic approach to reading the bible – where we come to the bible with our theological systems, but in reading Scripture, we genuinely allow the words of Scripture to challenge our theological system and if need be, we are epistemically humble enough to change our theological systems. It would be straining our reading of the Scriptural text of the Sermon to suggest that either a temporal application of the ethics or an application applicable to only Israel is on view. Passages like Matt 5:17-20 and 24 with their emphasis on ‘anyone’ and ‘everyone’ more likely points to the direction that Jesus had in mind not only the hearers of the Sermon on that day, but also anyone who would eventually come to hear these precious words of his. The wider context of Matthew also does not support a Dispensationalist view (esp. Matt 28:18-20 where the disciples are told to go to the nations and where part of that includes teaching them ‘everything’ Jesus has commanded them).

Related to this point, even Kyle Fedler’s description of the ethics of the Sermon on the Mount as ‘kingdom ethics’ require careful qualification (Exploring Christian Ethics (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), 168-172). Fedler sees the Sermon as representing ‘a kind of “kingdom ethic,” a portrait of what ethics in the (future) kingdom of God will resemble’ (p.171). To his credit, Fedler disagrees with Reinhold Niebuhr’s analysis that in the Sermon Jesus holds up an impossible ideal for ethics; and he agrees more with Glen Stassen’s proposal that Jesus, while holding up a high ideal, nonetheless provided ‘practice norms’ or practical guidelines for transforming ourselves and our relationships such that we can start participating in this ‘eschatological deliverance that begins now’ (p.172). My discomfort with Fedler’s view is his presupposition that as Jesus was speaking the Sermon, he had in mind solely or even primarily the approach of the end-times. I think it would be more right to state that Jesus had in mind the kingdom of God (Matt 4:17 and the frequent reference to ‘kingdom’ in the Sermon) and what it means to follow him in this Kingdom (Matt 5:17-20, Matt 7:24). In another words, if we want to describe the Sermon as ‘Kingdom Ethics’, we need to qualify what we mean exactly in terms of the ‘eschatological horizon’ of the Kingdom. Otherwise, we might end up unintentionally weakening the ethical force of the Sermon by relegating it to the ‘not-yet’ eschatological horizon. My own preference and persuasion is that eschatology is not the sole or even primary consideration of Jesus as he spoke the Sermon. Something else is.

3) Is the Sermon meant to be taken literally in all that it’s saying? While many would jump at first response and say, “Of course not!” the answer is a bit trickier than that. Many in the Anabaptist/Mennonite tradition have taken seriously the words of Jesus here, and such seriousness has been manifested in their die-hard commitment to pacifism. I agree with Carson here that while being sympathetic to their views, two points lead me to stand on different ground. The first is that such a view fails to account or accommodate the rhetorical devices Jesus might have used in his Sermon to bring out his point – e.g. hyperbole or exaggeration to shock us hearers to the point or principle he’s making. While the shocking statements or hyperbole itself could be a possible application of the point Jesus is making, it would be wrong to confuse the application with the point or principle itself. Secondly, the Sermon by itself is not a final comment on issues such as war and capital punishment. Other biblical considerations that are derived from a reading of the whole corpus of Scripture need to be considered as well. It would also be good to familiarise oneself with the long Christian tradition of political reflection.

4) What’s the relationship of Jesus to the Sermon? Is he merely the speaker of the Sermon, speaking of an ethic external to himself? Is he radically presenting new teaching, or merely interpreting and clarifying the Law of Moses? The key passage to explore in this regard would be Matt 5:17-20, and a lot depends on the interpretation of the word ‘fulfill’. Does it mean to ‘confirm’? To ‘bring about something new by abolishing the old’? Or does it mean ‘to bring something to its full intended goal or purpose’? It is the third meaning of the word that is most likely on view. In another words, as Carson states, “Jesus did not conceive of his life and ministry in terms of opposition to the Old Testament, but in terms of bringing to fruition that toward which it points. Thus, the Law and the Prophets, far from being abolished, find their valid continuity in terms of their out-working in Jesus.” (Sermon, 42 (italics his)). The six examples Jesus gives from 5:21-47 all further work out this guiding principle.

But we must ask further – is that all there is to the Christological significance in the Sermon? Here, we wholeheartedly agree with the insights of Bonhoeffer who refused to separate the words of the Sermon from the preacher of the Sermon. “The one who preached the Sermon and the Sermon are one” (Bonhoeffer, Ethics, 231). He states, “the sayings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount are the interpretation of his existence, and thus the interpretation of that reality in which history finds its fulfilment in God’s becoming human, in the reconciliation of the world with God.” (Ethics, 235). In another words, Jesus doesn’t just speak the words or the ethics of the Sermon as someone external to it, but he speaks as someone who embodies the ethics in his very own life. As the one who brings in the Kingdom of God, Jesus exemplifies in his own life what life and behaviour in this Kingdom will look like. And it is only because Jesus is such that we who follow as his disciples have any chance of living out the ethics of this Kingdom he has brought in. In another words, correct ethical interpretation of the Ethics of the Sermon must be necessarily first and foremost Christological.

5) What’s the relationship between the Sermon and Paul’s gospel of grace? Is the sermon intended to make the readers of listeners aware of their need of grace? Or does the Sermon presuppose God’s forgiveness and acceptance of the sinner and therefore set out demands for true discipleship? I am delighted to state that none of the major interpreters of the Sermon that I’ve read (Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Wesley, Bonhoeffer and Stott) interpret the Sermon in the first way. Even Luther, who would probably have been the prime suspect, interpreted the Sermon in terms of his two-kingdoms theology. As Susan Schreiner comments:

“According to Luther Christians always had to distinguish the two kingdoms [...] ordained by God. The two kingdoms correspond to the two relationships in which the Christian stands: the spiritual kingdom involves the Christian before God; the earthly kingdom involves the Christian before the neighbour. [Before God] the Christian stands in a passive or receptive relationship. Here the Christian receives only faith and justification by that faith. [...] [Before neighbour], the Christian is always active in works of love.” (The Sermon on the Mount through the Centuries, 114)

For Luther, the Sermon relates to the Christian before men in the earthly kingdom. We ‘cannot understand the Sermon on the Mount unless we are first grounded in the doctrine of justification by faith alone. Having been justified, the believer should then turn to the Sermon in order to find ethical instructions about living the life of faith’ (p.111). More than anything else, Luther’s interpretation comes closer to the second approach mentioned above than the first.

Calvin, on the other hand, holds to the tension between gospel and law within the Sermon in his interpretation. He cleverly distinguishes between the two, but he does not make them antithetical. For Calvin, ‘the gospel of Christ cannot replace or alter [the] law without affronting the God who gave the law and sent Christ’ (Stephen Spencer, The Sermon on the Mount through the Centuries, 152). Calvin’s ethical hermeneutics involves him keeping law and gospel together.

For John Wesley, the emphasis of the Sermon was on what he termed ‘gracious holiness’ – holiness inspired by and born out of grace. As Mark Noll observes,

“The great marvel of Wesley’s thirteen discourses is how consistently they maintain both and exalted view of divine grace and a full dedication to active holiness – and without compromising one by the other. [...] [He has expounded] with rentless energy the bonded scriptural message of purity of heart bestowed by grace and sanctification of life pursued through works.” (The Sermon on the Mount through the Centuries, 179.)

Perhaps a hermeneutic of the Ethics of the Sermon will involve holding both law and gospel together. While not totally being able to articulate the clear and precise correspondence between the two (as presented in the Sermon), perhaps the more important thing is to ensure that our hermeneutic holds onto both components.

Finally, in pulling things to a close, what can we say as about the hermeneutics of Ethics in the Sermon? I’m suggesting the following:

Jesus, in bringing in God’s Kingdom, tells us what life, norms and behaviour in that kingdom looks like. He not only speaks it, but both speaker and speech are one. His own life embodies the Sermon and in that way, as his disciples and followers in this Kingdom, our interpretation of the Ethics must begin with him. And as we follow after him, we soon discover it is a journey of costly grace. Costly because obedience to the Sermon is called for; the requirements of the Kingdom are pressed upon our hearts; and discipleship and witness is intrinsic to the Sermon. But grace because it is Jesus we are obeying, the one who has first and foremost fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom and the requirements of his own words! And it is also grace because in giving up our life, we actually find it, or more correctly, we actually find it being given to us.

An Encouragement for Preachers

2009-09-03T23:14:00.001-07:00

Here's a beautiful little quote from J.I. Packer that I came across to encourage us who preach God's Word:

"The preacher, rather than the critical commentator or the academic theologian, is the true interpreter of Scripture, for the preacher is the person whose privilege it is to bridge the apparent gap between the Bible and the modern world by demonstrating the relevance of what Scripture says to the lives of those addressed."

from Truth and Power: The Place of Scripture in the Christian Life (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1996),125.

Chris Wright on a Missional Hermeneutic of the Bible

2009-09-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

In the 1st two chapters of his book The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible’s Grand Narrative (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2006), Chris Wright suggests that instead of seeing the Bible as merely providing a basis for mission (e.g. from favourite passages like Matt 28:18-20), it might be more profitable to see that there is a missional basis for the Bible – i.e. the Bible is generated by and is all about God’s mission. In another words, he suggests and tries to define the shape of a missional hermeneutic of the Bible.

Wright first tries to justify the idea of a missional hermeneutic. One of his main reasons is that the Bible can be seen as the product of God’s Mission. He states: “The whole canon of Scripture is a missional phenomenon in the sense that it witnesses to the self-giving movement of this God toward his creation and us, human beings in God’s own image, but wayward and wanton. The writings that now comprise our Bible are themselves the product of and witness to the ultimate mission of God.” (p.48). The processes by which the Scriptural texts came to be written also arose often out of a missional context or situation. Wright further shows how this missional context or situation which resulted in writing can be seen in the New Testament and Old Testament documents. In short, ‘the whole Bible renders to us the story of God’s mission through God’s people in their engagement with God’s world for the sake of the whole of God’s creation’ (p.51).

As for the shape of how such a missional hermeneutical looks like, Wright states that we first have to shift our paradigm and understanding of ‘mission’ from ‘our human agency to the ultimate purposes of God himself; missions as “missions” that we undertake, to mission as that which God has been purposing and accomplishing from eternity to eternity; and an anthropocentric (or ecclesiocentric) conception to a radically theocentric worldview’ (p.62). He then proposes a shape for the missional hermeneutic under the following headings:

God with a mission. The missional hermeneutic begins with us recognising that we have a ‘missional’ God. Wright cautiously agrees with the term missio Dei, often used to encapsulate this idea. The missional nature of God is seen in how the biblical narrative begins with a God of purpose in creation, moves on to the conflict and problem generated by human rebellion against that purpose, spends most of its narrative journey in the story of God’s redemptive purposes worked out in the stage of human history, and finishes beyond the horizon of its own history with the eschatological hope of the new creation (p.63). While not squashing out many of the smaller narratives that occur in the Bible, there is a general flow – the ‘affirmation that there is one God at work in the universe and in human history, and that this God has a goal, a purpose, a mission that will ultimately be accomplished by the power of God’s Word and for the glory of God’s name. This is the mission of the biblical God (p.64)’.
Humanity with a mission. Chris suggests that the creational mandate (Gen 1:28) sets humanity and mankind out on a mission. It is out of this missional understanding that generates our ‘ecological responsibility, our economic activity involving work, productivity, exchange and trade, and our whole cultural mandate’ (p.65).
Israel with a mission. Israel’s election, Chris contends, was for the sake of all nations. The universality of God’s purposes for the nations, but yet seen in this particular stage in salvation history in the particularity of God’s choosing of Israel, remains as one of recurrent themes in the Old Testament.
Jesus with a mission. Jesus came with a clear understanding and purpose that he was sent, and that he was the fulfilment of the Servant figure in Isaiah and the Davidic messianic king (Isa 42:1 and Ps 2:7, both of which are affirmed in the voice from Heaven at Jesus’ baptism). Jesus had a clear understanding that his will was to do his Father’s will, his mission was determined by God’s mission. Wright states, “In Jesus the radically theocentric nature of biblical mission is most clearly focused and modelled.” (p.66)
The church with a mission. Jesus in turn, entrusts to us the church a mission that is rooted in his own identity, passion and victory as the crucified and risen Messiah. (p.66).

In summary, Wright states that a missional hermeneutic means that we seek to read any part of the bible in the light of i) God’s purposes for his whole creation ii) God’s purpose for human life in general and all the bible teaches about human culture, relationships, ethics and behaviour iii) God’s historical election of Israel and the effect that has on the nations and their own national life in terms of obeying God iv) the centrality of Jesus v) God’s calling of the church to be the agent of God’s blessing to the nations in the name and for the glory of the Lord Jesus (p.67). He ends the chapter by suggesting how, like a map, this hermeneutical framework will not give an account of every single detail and landmark in the biblical landscape, but that it will provide a way of seeing the whole terrain, of navigating one’s way through it as one experiences the reality of the biblical landscape (p.68-69).

Overall, Wright has provided an interesting suggestion. He is right on how seeing how missions should not be viewed first and foremost as activity and in an anthropocentric way. If we do, our tendency would be to use the Bible to justify such activity and viewpoint. Rather, if we view missions as something integral to God Himself – something God does for the sake of his glory and purpose (and here, some would go further to suggest that missional is something God is) – then missions could be a key way of summarising what the flow of the Bible is about. In another words, there is some truth in Wright’s proposal that just as the Bible gives a biblical basis for missions, there is also a missional basis to the Bible. I’m not fully persuaded though that a missional hermeneutic (as Wright presents it as God with a mission; humanity with a mission; Israel with a mission; Jesus with a mission; and the church with a mission) actually serves to tell one what the Bible is all about – or in other words, what’s the content in this river of the Biblical story that is being told. Missions serves as a good and right way of describing the flow and direction of this river, but something else needs to be filled in to tell us what’s actually flowing in this river. Or to use Wright’s closing analogy of the map – I’m not too sure if his missional hermeneutic actually introduces us and connects the major features in the biblical landscape as we travel through it. Rather, I think the missional hermeneutic acts more like the vehicle we are sitting in as we navigate through the biblical landscape. We are heading somewhere with it, but we still need something else – another map – that helps to explain the major features of the landscape as we are carried along. As to what that map is, suggestions abound – the glory of God manifested in Christ (Schreiner); the Kingdom of God (Goldsworthy); or perhaps not the presence of any one main theme, but the inter-relation and connection of a few central themes (Carson? The writers of Central themes in Biblical Theology? My own view)

Chris Wright on Postmodernism and the Bible

2009-09-02T19:53:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting quote from Chris Wright, The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible's Grand Narrative (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2006), 46-47, as he comments on one aspect of postmodernism (diversity and plurality) and the Bible:

"[...] The living dynamic of the gospel has been such that, while it has an unchanging core because of its historical rootedness in the Scriptures and the Christ event, it has been received, understood, articulated, and lived out in myriad ways, both vertically through history and horizontally in all cultures in which Christian faith has taken root.

[...] The Bible got there before postmodernity was dreamed of - the Bible which glories in diversity and celebrates multiple human cultures, the Bible which builds its most elevated theological claims on utterly particular and sometimes very local events, the Bible which sees everything in relational, not abstract terms, and the Bible which does the bulk of its work through the medium of stories.

All of these features of the Bible - cultural, local, relational, narrative - are welcome to the postmodern mind. Where the missional hermeneutic will part company with radical postmodernity, is in its insistence that through all this variety, locality, particularity, and diversity, the Bible is nevertheless actually the story. This is the way it is. This is the grand narrative that constitutes truth for all. And within this story, as narrated or anticipated by the Bible, there is at work the God whose mission is evident from creation to new creation. This is the story of God's mission. It is a coherent story with a universal claim. But it is also a story that affirms humanity in all its particular cultural variety. This is the universal story that gives a place in the sun to all the little stories." (Emphasis his)

Books to recommend for thinking about Worldviews

2009-08-27T21:03:00.000-07:00

One of the main things that has kept me busy as of late is preparation for a short course on Worldviews which I will be conducting in my church. The course is meant to introduce the average lay person in the church to the concept of worldviews and how in understanding the biblical worldview, we can engage with the other worldviews out there. To that end, I have found the following books helpful in the preparation.

1) James Sire, Naming the Elephant (http://www.amazon.com/Naming-Elephant-Worldview-As-Concept/sim/083082779X/2)

In this book, Sire clearly and succinctly explores the concept of a worldview by asking and answering the follow questions (which happen to be his chapter divisions):
· What’s the history of the concept? How has it been used in both philosophy and theology?
· What comes first in worldview – reality or knowing the reality?
· Is a worldview primarily theoretical or pretheoretical?
· Is a worldview expressed as a rational system of propositions; as a way of life; or as a grand story or narrative?
· Are worldviews public or private?
· Can we now have a (re)definition of worldview?
· Of what use is the concept of worldview in engaging others?

I’ve found this book relatively easy to read, and Sire does a good job in summarising the key academic discussions that have occurred in recent worldview studies. His usage and commendation of David Naugle’s Worldview: The History of a Concept (which is a more technical book exploring the same ideas as Sire does) can be seen throughout his book. Overall, his definition is ‘all-encompassing’ enough to allow for the various schools of thought that have arisen within worldview studies.

“A worldview is a commitment, a fundamental orientation of the heart, that can be expressed as a story or in a set of presuppositions which we hold about the basic constitution of reality and that provides the foundation on which we move and live and have our being.” (p.122)

Readers familiar with Sire’s thought will realise he has allowed a greater place for the role of narratives or story in expressing (and likewise influencing) one’s worldview.

2) James Sire, The Universe Next Door (http://www.amazon.com/Universe-Next-Door-Worldview-Catalog/dp/0830827803/ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_b)

This is Sire’s earlier book on worldviews. Earlier would also mean that Sire here holds on to his earlier thinking that worldviews are primarily expressed as a set of presuppositions or propositions that we hold to the big questions of life. He hence distinguishes the different worldviews according to philosophical categories – theism, deism, naturalism, nihilism, existentialism, Eastern Religious worldview, New Age worldview, and postmodernism.

This book is useful because Sire masterfully summarises the key tenets of each philosophical worldview (according to the big questions of life) such that we can observe the general pattern for each worldview and what is it that distinguishes one worldview from the next. Though critics may accuse Sire of over-generalisation (which he recognises and tries to show the variances within each worldview), he has nonetheless done his best within the scope of the length of the book. It is up to us the readers to contextualise in our own peculiar situation – for e.g. in Singapore society, I think the philosophical worldview of the average Singapore is driven by a funny mix and combination of deism (though not Christian deism, but more of the gods of other religions) and naturalism (expressed most in pragmatism). But Sire’s book provides us the foundation to do this contextualising by enabling us to know the major tenets of each philosophical worldview. It is also important not to totally eject the ‘presupposition/propositional’ approach to worldview in favour of the ‘narrative’ approach because I remain convinced that behind every story or narrative stands propositions or presuppositions which shape that story – even though we may not be conscious of it, let alone articulate what these presuppositions or propositions are. Sire’s book draws our knowledge to what some of the presuppositions and propositions could be.

3) Michael Goheen and Craig Bartholomew, Living at the Crossroads (http://www.amazon.com/Living-Crossroads-Introduction-Christian-Worldview/dp/0801031400/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1251430431&sr=1-1)

This is actually the 2nd book in a series of 3 that Goheen and Bartholomew ( henceforth abbreviated as G&B) have come up with. The 1st focused on Biblical Theology (see earlier review here) and the 3rd will be on philosophy.

It is clear in this book that G&B adopt the story or narrative approach to worldview. The layout and the sequence of thought in the book is clear – starting first with a discussion on the concept ; then looking at how the biblical grand story (or metanarrative) of Creation, Fall, Redemption and Consumation actually provide or express a Christian worldview ; then tracing the other metanarrative that has largely affected the world – that of the story of secular or autonomous humanism (i.e. by our own reason, we can understand life and work towards a utopian life). Over the span of two chapters, G&B skilfully explores how this story of secular humanism was born and grew and blossomed over the whole course of human history and thought ( they begin with the Greco-Roman times and move through the Medieval, Renaissance, Reformation, Enlightenment – showing at each stage the development of the story of secular humanism). G&B proceed on to show how despite the advert of postmodernism, the grand story of secular humanism is still well and alive as expressed in the story of consumerism, which grips so many of us. The effect of the story of secular humanism is the increasingly secularisation of society - religion or God is forced into a private corner and has limited domain or say only in the ‘religious’ affairs of the world.

G&B’s challenge is that, rightly understood, the biblical grand story will lead us to realise the fact that ‘Jesus is Lord’ and God’s Kingdom and the salvation He brings is comprehensive and restorative. i.e. God’s Kingdom has every influence and area over our lives and this world we live in and should not be forced into the private corner. In the last 2 chapters of the book, G&B provide some brilliant ideas and insight (and a good list of references for those who want to chase it up more) on how our biblical worldview should impact us in the way we think about business, politics, sports, art and culture, scholarship, and education. One cannot walk away from reading this book without realising the ‘big-ness’ and ‘grand-ness’ of God’s kingdom penetrating into every area of life, and repenting of the way perhaps in our religious piety, we have ‘narrowed’ the scope of God’s salvation to our individual salvation or merely the salvation of the church, while forgetting the comprehensive restorative nature of his salvation to life in this world as well.

One minor point though – I felt G&B have not given enough weight and attention to the penal effects of sin and the penal substitutionary work of Christ on the cross. Instead sin is largely presented as a deconstruction and reconstruction (in a negative way) of the structures of this world God established at creation. Jesus’ death is hence presented as the way to undo the power of sin in this regard, hence enabling the restorative work of God in these structures of the world and life. While all this is true, it is my opinion that G&B could have showed more sufficiently the linkage between the restorative work of the cross and resurrection on creation and the wrath of God towards sin and sinners – it is precisely because that wrath has been dealt with, the penalty of sin paid for, that God can now restore what sin has damaged.

Overall, the two books – The Universe Next Door and Living at the Crossroads – complement each other. I have been greatly encouraged in my thinking and also in my pastoral ministry of the effectiveness of using the concept of worldviews as we proclaim the gospel, engaging with them at a level which matters most to them existentially – their understanding of life and this world we live in.

(pictures taken from Amazon)

Sustaining Grace

2009-08-03T18:29:00.000-07:00

"God has promised to sustain us by his grace. He has promised us the sustaining grace of forgiveness, so that we can stand before him unafraid. He has promised the sustaining grace of enablement, giving us strength to do what he calls us to do. He has promised us the sustaining grace of protection, delivering us from evil. He has promised us the sustaining grace of wisdom, protecting us from our own foolishness. He has promised us the sustaining grace of perseverance, keeping us until the final enemy has been defeated. He has promised the sustaining grace of eternity, giving us the hope of a day when the struggle will be over.

It is a willing heart that causes us to seek the grace that has been promised. When we turn from our own way and recognise our inability to live his way, we begin to seek the full range of resources that he has promised us in his Son. Grace is for the willing and we only become willing when we confess not only the gravity of our sin, but our inability to deliver ourselves from it. Then our willingness opens to us all the sustenance of heart that can only be found in the Son."

From Paul David Tripp, Whiter than Snow: Meditations on sin and mercy (Illinois: Crossway, 2008), 24 (italics mine)

(Picture is from flickr.com)

Thinking Deeper on Systematic Theology and Biblical Theology

2009-07-19T23:52:00.000-07:00

I'm carrying on a series of earlier posts (see here) reviewing some of the essays from McGowan’s Always Reforming: Explorations in systematic theology (Leicester: APOLLOS, 2006). Next up are the two related essays by Stephen Williams, ‘Observations on the Future of System’, p. 41-66, and Richard Gamble, ‘The Relationship between Biblical Theology and Systematic Theology’, p.211-239.

Using the topic of the Calvinist-Arminian dispute as a starting point and drawing on the works of Charles Simeon, Williams highlights the following key points in his essay: Firstly, that when one looks hard at his or her convictions in systematic theology, one discovers that coherence of convictions often happen in what he terms as the ‘religious (and if we may add piety) context’ of systematic theology over the ‘speculative context’ (p.45). In another words, as he states elsewhere, “Life, rather than thought, is the zone where coherence is demonstrated.” (p.52). Secondly, Williams advocates that systematic theology should follow the lead of biblical theology in being concerned more about the relation of particular doctrines to life than the mutual relation of doctrines (p.49). This leads in to the third point – that there may be a ‘wider system’ than what our individual ‘traditions’ of systematic theology has to offer us. If so, such a ‘wider system’ should be uncovered in relation to biblical literary genres and salvation history (p.53). Finally, we should be more concerned about ‘doctrinal rules’ (of engagement) rather than ‘doctrinal moves’. He states, “What matters is the notion that moves that we make within the body of doctrinal rules should not be the primary focus of our theological attention if theology is geared to worship, obedience, proclamation and service. The rules are what matters most.” (p.59).

In Gamble’s essay, he begins by first defining theology and the characteristics of scriptural revelation – how it is historically progressive, involves redemption, has a historic-organic nature to it, and how it consists of different literary genres. Gamble then goes on to explore the relationship between systematic theology and biblical theology, and his conviction comes clearly across – “[...] biblical theology is and should be considered the natural, proper, and even exclusive, structural framework for systematic theology.” (p.228). This would mean a ‘major recasting of most systematic loci or topics’ (p.226). Gamble recognises the ‘classical method’ of structuring systematic theology used at the time of the Reformation, and that this method has somewhat been largely passed onto us. The implication of allowing biblical theology to ground and drive our systematic theology would be that a more ‘objective’ way of arranging the topics or subjects in systematic theology – one that ‘comes from within [the bible’s] own pages’ (p.238). Unfortunately and disappointingly, Gamble stops short here in showing us or giving us a model of how this could be done.

There is a common trend observed in both essays – and that is a call for systematic theology to be more grounded in biblical exegesis within the context of a recognition of salvation history (i.e. biblical theology). Gamble has rightfully pointed out that at least one implication of the above conviction would be a rethinking of the loci or topics of systematic theology. Interestingly, in another book I’m currently reading, Michael Goheen and Craig Bartholomew, Living at the Crossroads: An Introduction to Christian Worldview (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008), actually propose four levels of engagement when one reads Scripture – firstly, Scripture itself. Secondly, biblical theology which traces out the narrative shape of the biblical story. Thirdly, as one considers the narrative shape of Scripture, what one finds is a Christian worldview which sets out the main elements of beliefs that constitute the biblical story and sets them within a coherent framework. Fourthly, systematic theology and Christian philosophy which seeks to reflect on these Christian beliefs at a more theoretical level. They state, “The point of a Christian worldview [...] is that the biblical story embodies and implies a framework of basic beliefs that can be set out to equip Christians in their lives.” (p.27). I have a point of agreement and a point of disagreement with Goheen and Bartholomew. I think they might be on to something in suggesting the concept of a worldview as a bridge between biblical theology and systematic theology. Carson has also earlier suggested such a move in his Gagging of God. This is all the more so following recent definitions of the concept as involving not just the mind, but more so the heart , i.e. fundamentally, a worldview is about orientation and commitment of the heart. Thus the concept of worldview could have some mileage in (coming back to Gamble’s conviction) shaping the loci of systematic theology. The point of disagreement is that Goheen and Bartholomew might have drawn up too sharp a distinction between intellect and practice in their definition of systematic theology, relegating systematic theology to the former. More recent definitions of systematic theology have been keen to include the element of sapentia (wisdom). John Frame for example defines theology as ‘the application of the Word of God by persons to all areas of life’ (p.10 in Always Reforming) . This would mean a much closer coherence and overlap between the concepts of worldview and systematic theology than what Goheen and Bartholomew’s four-level scheme would have allowed for.

Harvesting the Drama Metaphor for Ethics Part II

2009-07-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

See here for Part I of post.

In the 2nd section of his book, Wells moves on to examine five practices carried out as part of improvisation within the theatre – assessing status; accepting or blocking; questioning givens; incorporating gifts or ‘overaccepting’; and reincorporating – and seeks to see how these five practices could be applied to ethics. Well’s main proposal is that such improvisory practices enables the Church to know better how it should carry out its practices as it lives in Act 4. Wells proposes the main practice that should characterise the church should be that of ‘accepting all offers – to let go of the impulse to block and to enjoy the freedom of perpetually accepting’ (p.115).In the case of less than ideal offers, even evil offers, the church should not rely on ‘blocking’, but instead should ‘overaccept’. A (somewhat lengthy) paragraph from the book captures what I think is at the heart of Well’s argument:

“I have argued in my treatment of improvisation so far that Christian ethics is about learning to take the right things for granted. It is commonplace to perceive life within the context of a story, and one takes a circumstance or development for granted if it is true to the character of the story. Christianity perceives reality in terms of a particular story, whose broad dimensions I set out [...] as a five-act drama, spanning creation-Israel-Jesus-church-eschaton. The key to Christian living is to have a thorough perception and embodiment of what forms of life are appropriate to Act Four. Many, perhaps most, of the church’s mistakes derive from a mistaken apprehension of which act it is in. It is not the church’s vocation to create (Act One) or to conclude (Act Five) the story. The Messiah has come (Act Three), and it is the church’s role to follow in Christ’s footsteps (Act Four), not to act as if the fullness of God were yet to be revealed (Act Two). Thus the simple task of the church is to keep the story going, in the face of numerous temptations to block and kill the story when it becomes uncomfortable or threatening. Because the Christian story is larger and greater in depth and scope than the smaller stories that present themselves, Christians can overaccept the offers that come to them from the world in the light of the larger story. Rather than use violence, which bypasses the imagination, kills the story, and sits uneasily in Act Four, the church addresses threats to its integrity by perceiving what such offers could mean in the context of the five-act play.” (p.143-144)

Wells then moves on in the 3rd section of the book to apply his improvisory model to the four issues of human evil, diseases and sicknesses, cloning, and genetically modified food (!) In each of these issues, he consistently applies the five practices mentioned above within improvisation to the issue.

Overall, Wells’ methodology of carrying out ethics in Improvisation could be described as a ‘post-liberal virtue ethic couched in the theatrical language of improvisation’. ‘Post-liberal’ because Well’s emphasis on the location of theology and ethics being grounded in the practices of the church appear often enough to show his indebtness to those in the post-liberal tradition (e.g. Lindbeck). ‘Virtue’ because Wells’ central focus in the practices of the church is always on the formation of habits within the church, especially those formed through its acts of worship. The following paragraph captures both these emphases of Wells’:

“I argue that Christian ethics must always be grounded in the practices of the church. I suggest that the central role of Christian ethics is the formation of habits and disciplines – that it is those habits and disciplines that largely shape what the church regards as crises and dilemmas – and that it is those same habits and disciplines that largely govern the church’s response to such crises and dilemmas. [...] And I describe two central practices, overaccepting and reincorporation, that epitomize how communities should seek to reflect the pattern of God’s activity and embody the Christian story in their common life.” (p.213)

While Wells’ model could be one way of seeing how the theatrical metaphor could be applied to ethics; and while Wells has provided at times some interesting insights and reflections into ethical issues through his ‘improvisory practices’, one wonders if this is the most ideal way of utilising the theatrical metaphor. My main concern is the lack of consideration of the rest of the four Acts (Acts 1, 2, 3, and 5) within the Drama, and a result, due weight is not given to these other Acts. One seems to get the impression that for Wells, Acts 1 and 2 are merely there to remind the church not to behave as if it was still in the first two acts (as if it was creator or as if the Messiah has not come). But Wells has failed to give due attention to how Acts 1 and 2 could in fact have some degree of continuity into Act 4 for ethical consideration. Act 3 also seems to be there so that the church in Act 4 can directly follow on from its Saviour. This fails to consider how Jesus himself fulfils Act 1 and 2, and how in doing so, might have implications in terms of the Church’s following in Act 4. In another words (and in Wells’ terminology), ’overaccepting’ might mean more than just directly following Jesus in Act 3, but rather an overall consideration of how the whole Drama (Acts 1-3 and 5) might impact the exact stance of the church in ‘overaccepting’. This leads in to my last ‘questioning of the givens’ (in Wells’ terminology again) – Is virtue ethics the main way to carry out ethics within the theatrical metaphor? While it is definitely part of the consideration, wouldn’t the fact that there is Act 5 set the main way of doing ethics as more teleological in nature, or at least give more attention to it?

Harvesting the Drama Metaphor for Ethics Part 1

2009-06-25T07:19:00.001-07:00

I'm carrying on a series of earlier posts (see here and here) on how we can harvest the drama metaphor (theatrical metaphor) as a means of bridging the three disciplines of biblical theology, systematic theology and ethics. Here in this post, we are exploring how the drama metaphor can be applied to the discipline of ethics.

Samuel Wells has attempted just that in his Improvisation: The Drama of Christian Ethics (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2004). We shall summarise and evaluate his first section, where he sets out the presuppositions of his methodology.

Wells' proposes in the first section of his book (consisting of 4 chapters) that the theatrical notion of improvisation is 'an appropriate mode in which to understand the nature and purpose of Christian ethics' (p.11) He begins first by showing that the discipline of ethics has always 'been subject to the church's understanding of God an it's location in society more generally' (p.11), and he does this in the first chapter by painting broad strokes of how ethics has been practiced in the six historical eras of the early church; Christian empire; decay of empire; Middle Ages; modern, and postmodern times, before concluding that 'in common with the early church this book's approach seeks first to understand ethics specifically for Christians, rather than more generally "for everybody"' (p.30). In another words, 'ethics is theological' i.e. it is about 'imitating God, following Christ, being formed by the Spirit to become friends with God.' (p.31). In fact, Wells goes further to suggest that it is particularly 'ecclesial ethics' that is on view here as a distinctive theological ethic. Ecclesial ethics focuses on the traditions and practices of the church and the character and acts of God, and sees the key location of theology as being in the practices of the church (as opposed to the other primary locations of sacred text, events, or set of doctrines) (p.37). He writes:

"Theological ethics requires the written text, but is not limited to the written word. It assumes interpretation, but can never be just a verbal matter, written or spoken. It inevitably involves the organisation of interpretation and its structuring into doctrine, but this exercise must always be a support to something else, not an end in itself. That something else is the embodiment of the text, the events it describes, its interpretation and systematic construal in the practices and performance of the community. [...] It is what happens when words leave the page, when thoughts leave the mind, when actions ripple through other lives and cause further actions and further thoughts. It is what happens when narrative becomes drama." (p.46)

Wells proceeds to give a brief account of Hans Urs Von Balthasar (p.46-51) and N.T. Wright (p.51-53), two theologians who have given consideration to the notion of theology as drama and the bible's storyline as drama respectively. Wells himself ends up with the concept of a Five-Act Play (he follows the five-acts suggestion of N.T. Wright but differs from Wright in that he collapses Creation and Fall into one Act and includes in the eschaton as Act 5). Wells suggests that the five-act proposal enables the drama from becoming either too "epic" or too "lyric", and hence 'balances the need for a genuinely human dimension to the drama, with the need for a genuinely divine shape' (p.53). He concludes the third chapter by providing a helpful account of the common mistakes one can make in failing to understand the significance of the five-act drama (p.53-57). In the last chapter of this section, Well pushes on to the final step of his presuppositions in his methodology - and that is, 'if the Christian story is drama, then ethics, the embodiment of that story, is appropriately regarded as performance' (p.59). Well succinctly reviews the works of the those who have capitalised on the notion of performance (Lash, Brueggemann, Vanhoozer, Craigo-Snell), before providing some criticisms of the notion of performance - the main one being that the notion of performance is tied too tightly to the Script and hence runs the risk of merely being merely repetitive. As Wells puts it,

"It is not that the text of Scripture is not, or should not ,be fixed. It is that there is a dimension of Christian life that requires more than repetition, more even that interpretation - but not as much as origination, or creation de novo. That dimension, the key to abiding faithfulness, is improvisation." (p.65)

That is the task of Wells in the second section of his book, where he will seek to outline six practices that characterise improvisation in the theater and show how these six practices might characterise Christian ethics also.

While not having completed the book yet, a few quick pointers in terms of an evaluation are in place. While Wells has provided a plausible argument in laying out the presuppositions of his methodology, the presuppositions could be further challenged at each point. For example, firstly, Wells aligns himself with the 'early church' era and states that ethics is primarily for Christians before it is 'for everybody'. While this is largely true, one questions if Wells has underplayed the 'universal' effect of theological ethics. i.e. isn't the five-act play more 'universal' in scope than what Wells has made it out to be in that the whole world is involved in the first and second and final fifth act as well? Afterall, the drama is God's meta-narrative and his comprehensive explanation of reality for all, and not just for Christians. How Christians act and behave in the fourth-act is in turn affected and has some continuity with the first to third act, hence theological ethics has something to offer to the rest of the world as well. Not that Wells does not cover these points, but his presentation could have accounted for this aspect more. Secondly, Wells reliance on the Yale tradition (Frei, Kelsey, Lindbeck) is clearly seen in that the primary location for theology and ethics lies in the practices of the church, hence there is a strong emphasis on the church's performance and improvisation in Act 4 of the drama (and hence also Wells' concerns over the notion of performance being tied too tightly to the Script). This need not be the only and necessary model for the drama metaphor to work. In fact, Vanhoozer's The Drama of Doctrine capitalises on the notion of drama while giving primacy in location of theology to Scripture (or the Script). Thirdly, without having read on more, the notion of improvisation needs to be defined further, otherwise it is left open to a lot of questions, e.g. does it give enough attention to the fact that some aspects of Christian living might be better described under the notion of performance (even if it is repetitive performance) than improvisation, for e.g. obeying Jesus' commands not to divorce? The notion of improvisation might also inevitably become a parking station for justifying either blatantly wrong practices or the 'grey' practices. But in all fairness to Wells, this third comment needs to be further justified itself by reading the rest of his book.

5 Influential Books

2009-06-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by David to provide 5 books that have influenced me. Here's how it goes:

"1. Name the five books (or scholars) that had the most immediate and lasting influence on how you read the Bible. Note that these need not be your five favorite books, or even the five with which you most strongly agree. Instead, I want to know what five books have permanently changed the way you think.
2. Tag five others."

I'm going to tweak things a little. Instead of narrowing to books that have influenced how I read the bible, I'm going to broaden the category to include books that have influenced me in other ways, or books that I have just simply enjoyed reading. Here goes:

1. Romans by Martyn Lloyd-Jones.

Looking back, it was Dr Jone's sermon expositions on the book of Romans (collated into a series of 11 books just covering Romans 1-11!) that really introduced me to the world of expository preaching that sets hearts on fire! They also introduced me to Reformed Doctrine and generated within me the seeds of interest in systematic theology

2. God's Big Picture by Vaughan Roberts.

Personally, I still think this is the simplest and clearest book written to date on Biblical Theology. Only at a 160 pages, it introduced me to the story-line of the bible and the theological motifs associated with it (i.e. biblical theology). Roberts acknowledges his indebtedness to Graeme Goldsworthy and his book is really a restatement of Goldsworthy's ideas - though I have to admit that it is written in a somewhat more readable fashion (A famous evangelist in Sydney once described this book as 'Goldsworthy without tears'!)

3. The Holy Trinity by Robert Letham.

If you have only time to pick up one book on the doctrine of the Trinity, it would have to be this. Letham's treatment of the subject is organised and clear - he begins with the biblical foundations (OT and NT), then looks at the historical development of the doctrine (both Eastern and Western church), then looks at modern discussion on this topic (covering Karl Barth and Moltmann and Pannenberg among others), before ending with the implications of the doctrine (on the 4 areas of the incarnation; worship and prayer; Creation and Missions, and understanding of persons and personhood).

4. The Drama of Doctrine by Kevin Vanhoozer

Read this in my last year in college. This book is really about how we should think about doctrine and a probe into the nature of doctrine. Dr Vanhoozer proposes that the drama metaphor (or the theatrical metaphor) is particularly suitable for describing what doctrine is - Through the Word of God (the Script), God calls us to participate in his (theo)drama. Doctrine provides us with the direction we need for a fitting participation in this drama. What I really like about Dr Vanhoozer's proposal is that it bridges the gap between doctrine as cognitive and intellectual understanding and practice (or praxis). I hope to re-read this book again at some point and write a post on it.

5. The Gagging of God by D.A. Carson

As mentioned in my earlier posts (see here and here), what I appreciated about Carson's book is his ability to draw out the implications of the biblical story-line (by considering key moments in salvation history) for our lives. He shows us the great theological motifs that arise from the bible's story-line and in doing so, provides us a model of how one can do systematic theology keeping the larger biblical theological framework in mind.

A couple more books I could further add on, but that's for another time another place.

As for tagging, you know what? Most of the people on my blog list have already been tagged before! Guess I'm one of the last!

More from Bonhoeffer - A quote and an interesting comment

2009-06-16T07:50:00.001-07:00

From The Cost of Discipleship (First Macmillan Paperbacks Edition; New York: Macmillan, 1979), 63:

"Discipleship means adherence to Christ, and, because Christ is the object of that adherence, it must take the form of discipleship. An abstract Christology, a doctrinal system, a general religious knowledge on the subject of grace or on the forgiveness of sins, render discipleship superfluous, and in fact they positively exclude any idea of discipleship whatever, and are essentially inimical to the whole conception of following Christ. With an abstract idea it is possible to enter into a relation of formal knowledge, to become enthusiastic about it, and perhaps even to put it into practice; but it can never be followed in personal obedience. Christianity without the living Christ is inevitably Christianity without discipleship, and Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ."

A good reminder that the study of Christology must never be divorced from a life of discipleship! Broadening out the application, it's also a good reminder that the study of theology should never be divorced from a life of worship to the one who has first and foremost graciously made that possible!

The second comment concerns a point Bonhoeffer makes in his book, where he discusses Jesus' call to discipleship offered to his disciples. Here, he presses home the importance of grasping the two-fold proposition that only he who believes is obedient, and only he who is obedient believes, though Bonhoeffer's emphasis is on the latter (p.69). He allows that it is necessary to separate faith and obedience from the viewpoint of justification, but even in doing so, their essential unity must never be lost sight of (p.69). Bonhoeffer goes on to say:

"Only the obedient believe. If we are to believe, we must obey a single command. Without this preliminary step of obedience, our faith will only be pious humbug, and lead us to the grace which is not costly. Everything depends on the first step. It has a unique quality of its own. The first step of obedience makes Peter leave his nets, and later get out of the ship; it calls upon the young man to leave his riches. Only this new existence, created through obedience, makes faith possible." (p.70)

We see the importance of the first step in obeying the preliminary call (of Jesus) for Bonhoeffer. What's interesting is what he goes on to say:

"The first step must be regarded to start with as an external work, which effects the change from one existence to another. It is a step within everybody's capacity, for it lies within the limits of human freedom. It is an act within the sphere of the natural law and in that sphere man is free. Although Peter cannot achieve his own conversation, he can leave his nets. In the gospels the very first step a man must take is an act which radically affects his whole existence." (p.70)

It's interesting to see what the above speaks of Bonhoeffer's view of God's sovereignty and human free will. He almost seems to be suggesting (through his description) that the first act is completely an act of libertarian free-will, which will then beg the question what happens if man does not take this first step, are God's salvation purposes for that person thwarted then? Also how does that square with biblical passages like Eph 2:1 and Rom 8:7-8?

But Bonhoeffer is aware of the implications of his statement, and goes on further to counter some of these possible implications, mainly that this first step does not merit us salvation. He states:

"[...] we must add at once that this step is, and can never be more than, a purely external act and a dead work of the law, which can never of itself bring a man to Christ. As an external act the new existence is no better than the old. [...] Of course, the work has to be done, but of itself it can never deliver from death, disobedience and ungodliness. If we think our first step is the pre-condition for faith and grace, we are already judged by our work, and entirely excluded from grace." (p.71)

A good caution there from Bonhoeffer. But still, it doesn't fully answer the earlier question raised. I recognise that Bonhoeffer's trying to urge upon us the urgency and importance of following Christ, but does he risk more by phrasing it in what seems to be libertarian freewill terms?

The Curious (and Sad) Case of Benjamin Button

2009-06-14T05:25:00.000-07:00

My wife and I finally had the chance to watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on DVD this week (okay... we know it's a little late, but what do you do when you've got two young children and have no opportunity to go to the movies?).

It's an interesting movie, rather slow moving at certain points. But really, in the end the movie should be called The Sad Case of Benjamin Button. What is valued as something precious by many - the elixir of youth - actually turns out be a curse for Benjamin Button. What at first seems attractive and ideal - starting life old and ending it young - actually loses its appeal as we see the effects played out in the life of Benjamin Button. Not only does he face a lonely existence most of the time, he is forced to cut himself off from the woman he loves and the child he has fathered. This was highlighted most clearly in one scene where the late-fifties Benjamin comes back to visit his wife and teenage daughter in their dance studio, except he enters not as one with grey hair and wrinkles on his face, but as a young teenager with the budding glow of youth on his face. It was at that point that I understood why Benjamin had made the choice earlier to leave his family, despite loving them - there was no way he could carry out his role as a father and provide the sense of normality to his family.The other sad scene in the movie is at the end, where he lies as a infant baby in his lover's arms, who by now was probably in her eighties - he's lost his memory, lost his ability to speak, and as you look at Benjamin spend the last few moments of his life as an infant baby - you feel an overwhelming sense of sadness instead of joy.

Which brings home the lesson for me - no use having the elixir of youth when you have it alone, while everyone else around you grows old with the seasons of time. The elixir in such a case becomes a poison, cutting you off from everyone you love and every relationship that matters to you. Which brings home yet another point - what really matters in life in the end is not growing old (or young in this case). What really matters is who you grow old with. It's the relationships that matter - being able to say 'I love you' to the people you love, holding their hands (no matter how wrinkled their hands or yours are!), parenting your children as they grow up - these are the things in life that make life precious, not the elixir of youth, but rather what I call the elixir of life itself.

Reflections of Bonhoeffer on Sermon on the Mount 1

2009-06-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

One of my recently completed tasks was to write a series of bible studies for my church on the Sermon on the Mount. That set me thinking about how we should understand the ethics in the Sermon. Upon the recommendation of my friend at Moore (thanks Steve!), who's currently doing a 4th year project on that topic, I've picked up a copy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's The Cost of Discipleship. Will be posting some reflections of my reading as I plough through the book.

For starters, Bonhoeffer in his first chapter begins with a blasting exposition against 'cheap grace' which has very often replaced the 'costly grace' Scripture advocates for. Here's an excerpt:

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting to-day for costly grace. Cheap
grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjack's wares. [...] Grace without price; grace
without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance;
and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. [...]

Cheap grace means grace as a doctrine, a principle, a system. It means forgiveness of sins proclaimed as a general truth, the love of God taught as the Christian "conception" of God. An intellectual assent to that idea is held to be of itself sufficient to secure remission of sins. [...]
In such a Church, the world finds a cheap covering for its sins; no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin. Cheap grace therefore amounts to a denial of the living
Word of God, in fact, a denial of the Incarnation of the Word of God. Cheap grace means the
justification of the sin without the justification of the sinner. [...]

Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap
grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.[...]

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and
it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son [...] and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not
reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

I like how Bonhoeffer states things. It has actually given me an insight into how we should perhaps understand the Sermon on the Mount - precisely as costly grace. Some writers in understanding the Sermon have emphasised the grace component so strongly that I think they have not done justice to the serious ethical implications of actually living out the Sermon (for e.g. in such interpretations, the Sermon is merely presented as an impossible ideal which drives us to realise our sinfulness and how far we are away from God's righteousness and hence the need for Jesus). Others have swung to the other extreme and so emphasise on living out the requirements of the Kingdom that they run the danger of almost portraying that it is by living this way that we enter the kingdom. I suspect Bonhoeffer's costly grace might give us the right paradigm to begin understanding the Sermon. Obedience to the Sermon is called for; the requirements of the Kingdom are pressed upon our hearts; discipleship and witness is intrinsic to the Sermon - and here is where it is costly. But it is also grace because it is Jesus we are obeying, the one who has first and foremost fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom and the requirements of his own words! And it is also grace because in giving up our life, we actually find it, or more correctly, we actually find it being given to us. I like how Bonhoeffer states things. It has actually given me an insight into how we should perhaps understand the Sermon on the Mount - precisely as costly grace. Some writers in understanding the Sermon have emphasised the grace component so strongly that I think they have not done justice to the serious ethical implications of actually living out the Sermon (for e.g. in such interpretations, the Sermon is merely presented as an impossible ideal which drives us to realise our sinfulness and how far we are away from God's righteousness and hence the need for Jesus). Others have swung to the other extreme and so emphasise on living out the requirements of the Kingdom that they run the danger of almost portraying that it is by living this way that we enter the kingdom. I suspect Bonhoeffer's costly grace might give us the right paradigm to begin understanding the Sermon. Obedience to the Sermon is called for; the requirements of the Kingdom are pressed upon our hearts; discipleship and witness is intrinsic to the Sermon - and here is where it is costly. But it is also grace because it is Jesus we are obeying, the one who has first and foremost fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom and the requirements of his own words! And it is also grace because in giving up our life, we actually find it, or more correctly, we actually find it being given to us.

Driscoll on Pornography

2009-06-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the recent silence. I was away in church camp for the whole of last week. Coming back, one of the most immediate tasks which I've been up to is to prepare a series of bible studies for the Sermon on the Mount. One of the studies covers Matt 5:27-30, where Jesus reveals the shocking truth that harbouring lust for a woman is equivalent to committing adultery with her. I'm trying to extend the application/implication of this passage into an area troubling most men - pornography and (related to that) masturbation.

And to help me with that, I've discovered on the web Mark Driscoll's little unpublished booklet Porn-Again Christian: A frank discussion on pornography & masturbation (available here). I have to admit to you: this booklet is indeed a FRANK, and may I add no holds barred, discussion on the topic, all given to you Driscoll- style. What I appreciated about this little booklet is not only the theology - which Driscoll derives mainly from the bible, stating the relevant bible passages in his usual matter-of-fact in-your-face style of writing, but yet in the very next sentence shocking you with the implications of the passage in such a way that it's hard for you to forget. But what I also appreciate is that this booklet is very practical, and the practicality comes through a series of Q&A that Driscoll has put up, with the questions being real-life questions that he has encountered through his pastoral counselling sessions. What's valuable is also the last two chapters, with the first one covering James Dobson's interview with serial killer Ted Bundy, hours before he was executed. In that chapter, Bundy reveals the influence of pornography in his life, and how it was formative in leading him down the slippery slope he took. The second chapter consists of Justin Holcomb's article written to military men who may be struggling with the idea of visiting prostitutes while being out there. In it, Justin highlights the very sad predicament of many women trapped in the sex trade, with some moving real life stories. The point is to confront us with the harsh reality - the sex trade works on supply-demand economics. There wouldn't be a supply if there was no demand from us men - either through 'softer' means like pornography, or 'harder' means like the active seeking of prostitutes itself.

All in all, a short but very helpful booklet in helping us think through this (real but very often kept silent) area. A word of warning though - which Driscoll himself gives us - because this booklet is targetted at men, the tone might not be well suited for some women, and hence, it might not be best for them to read this booklet (p.3). Also, some parts may be a bit disturbing, but I guess that's how the point gets through and stays in our heads. But overall, this is definitely a booklet to be read; and not only read, but after that, to be prayed through where we confess to God our failings in this area, and find the forgiveness we so badly need in Jesus; and having done that, to ask for his strength to be led by His Spirit in tune with the new desires He gives us (Rom 8:13-14).

7 Things that I appreciate about John Frame on Open Theism

2009-05-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

I've just finished John Frame's No Other God: A Response To Open Theism (Phillipsburg: P&R, 2001). Here's 7 things that I appreciate about it:

1) Frame gives a clear outline of what Open Theists are arguing for, in contrast with what classical traditional theism teaches (p.22-23):

Traditional Theism:

a. emphasises God's sovereignty, majesty, and glory

b. God's will is the final explanation of everything

c. His will is irresistible

d. He is caring and benevolent, but he is glorified equally in the destruction of the everything.

e. He is supratemporal

f. He knows everything in the past, present, and future.

g. He is essentially unaffected by human events and experiences.

Open Theism:

a. Love is God's most important quality

b. Love is not only care and commitment, but also being sensitive and responsive

c. Creatures exert an influence on God

d. God's will is not the ultimate explanation of everything. History is the combined result of what God and his creatures decide to do.

e. God does not know everything timelessly, but learns from events as they take place.

f. So God is dependent on the world in some ways

g. Human beings are free in the libertarian sense

2) While some proponents of Open Theism portray it as something new and as a contemporary option for a "new model" of the doctrine of God (e.g. John Sanders, Clark Pinnock), Frame shows us Open Theism is actually rooted in the classical doctrinal error of Socinianism (from Lelio Socinus (1525-62) and Fausto Socinus (1539-1604)), who denied not only that God foreordains events, but that he also has foreknowledge of these events.

3) Frame reminds us that while love is an important attribute of God, it is another thing to make love the single central attribute of God, like what the Open Theists have done. In fact, the kind of love they want to see in God is one of "vulnerability". Frame instead argues that the essential attributes of God are "perspectival" (his goodness, his wisdom, his eternity, his love, his lordship) - each of them describes everything that God is, from a different perspective. He states, "In one sense, any attribute may be taken as central, and the others seen in relation to it. But in that sense, the doctrine of God has many centres, not just one." (p.52).

4) While armed with a strong systematic theological and philosophical background, Frame nonetheless begins and anchors his arguments in exegesis of Scripture passages. This is seen for example in his impressive listing and exegesis of Scriptural passages where he argues for God's will as the ultimate explanation over everything incl. the natural world; human history; individual human lives; human decisions; (even) sins (in terms of God's foreordination of it); and faith and salvation (chapter 5). He even highlights the exegesis of the Open Theists, outlining their presupposition in the passages which they exegete, and their silence in those key passages which they have left out.

5) Where key decisions regarding presuppositions and definitions have to be made (especially when considering the accusations Open Theists throw at us), one appreciates Frame's robust defence of classical reformed theology or philosophical concepts that support the reformed theological framework. For example:

Addressing the question raised by Open Theists that God's will seems to be able to be "thwarted" at times, Frame helpfully distinguishes between Reformed Theology's distinction of God's decretive will and his preceptive will, where God's decretive will is his eternal purpose by which he foreordains everything that comes to pass, while his preceptive will is his valuations, as revealed to us in His Word. God's decretive will cannot be successfully opposed, while it is possible for creatures to disobey God's preceptive will - as we often do. Another simpler way of putting it, "God does not intend to bring about everything he values, but he never fails to bring about what he intends." (p.113)

In rejecting libertarian freedom (a major presupposition for Open Theists where true freedom is devoid of influences of anything or anyone), Frame instead proposes compatibilist freedom (p.131-132), a freedom that takes into account how our actions arise from the deepest desires of our hearts. Such freedom is compatible with determinism which is the view that every event has a sufficient cause other than itself. Compatibilist freedom means that even if every act we perform is caused by something outside ourselves, we are still free, for we can still act according to our character and desires. What is insightful is Frame's analysis of how libertarian freedom ultimately destroys moral responsibility (p.126), while compatibilist freedom provides a genuine condition for moral responsibility.

One must not think that Frame simply jumps to his philosophical framework immediately in order to defend his Reformed theological framework, but instead he supports his philosophical suggestions from Scripture as much as he can. And at all times, Scripture guides his philosophical framework, rather than vice-versa. This is seen especially in his honest treatment of the question of evil. Rather than try to provide a robust philosophical defence against the Open Theists' argument that libertarian freedom provides a logical and 'tighter' answer to the problem of evil (i.e. God took a 'risk' with evil in granting humankind libertarian freedom), Frame acknowledges Scripture does not lead us down a path towards a water-tight logical answer to the problem of evil, but instead leaves it as an ultimate mystery, focusing instead on the hope of its elimination in the consumation.

6) While relying on a strong reformed framework of traditional theism, Frame is no blind slave to it either. Instead, guided by the voice of Scripture, Frame 'modifies' traditional theism where necessary. This is seen clearly in Frame's treatment of:

the question of whether God is in time? Based on Scripture, Frame argues that because God is both transcendent and immanent, God is both the Lord in time and the Lord above time. Because God's redemptive actions in Scripture are temporally successive (worked out in salvation history), it not only testifies to his sovereignty, but also to the importance of temporal relationships in the divinely ordained course of history. God is both 'inside and outside of the temporal box - a box that can neither confine him nor keep him out. That is the model that does the most justice to the biblical data (p.159)'

the question of whether God changes? Once again, in a similar approach to above, Frame affirms that God is unchanging in his essential attributes; in his decretive will; in his covenantal faithfulness, and in the truth of his revelation. However, because God exists both above and within time, God is unchangeable in his atemporal or supratemporal existence, but 'when he is present in our world of time, he looks at his creatures from within and shares the perspective of his creatures' (p.176). In this sense, I think Frame's proposal offers the best explanation to those passages in Scripture where God relents. God's 'relenting' (seen from the perspective within time) is the means by which his decretive will is carried out (seen from the perspective outside of time). Frame's analogy is interesting: "History is like a novel written by God. In a great novel, the author brings about everything that happens, but events can also be explained within the world that the author creates. God's historical novel is a logical, temporal sequence, in which one event arises naturally out of the one before. When God himself becomes an actor in the drama, he acts in accordance with that sequence." (p.178)

the question of whether God Suffers? Frame suggests that God has feelings and emotions, and in this sense he objects to portrayals of classical theism which portray God's impassibility as him being devoid of emotions of feelings. But God's emotions and feelings do not cause him to suffer injury or loss, unlike us. Frame also suggests that because the person of Jesus suffered on the cross (and what suffered was not the human "nature" but the person of Jesus), and because the persons of the Godhead are in perichoretic relationship, you could say God suffered as well, though not having the same exact experiences of suffering and death that the Son has.

7) Frame's last chapter in the book where he shows how Open Theism (while being located under the Doctrine of God), inevitably affects all other doctrines like biblical inspiration, sin, redemption, Assurance, Heaven and Hell and Guidance. He also provides an honest sharing of how Open Theism has helped him see that there is more "give-and-take" between God and his creatures than traditional theology has generally acknowledged, but cautions against what Open Theism has destroyed - divine sovereignty and human responsibility before God. His conclusion is worth remembering:

"A gospel of grace is a gospel of divine sovereignty. That message may be distasteful to modern people, but it is the word of God, and without it we have no hope. Free will leaves us in despair. Only sovereign grace can bring salvation, faith, and hope" (p.212)

On Biblical Inerrancy

2009-05-25T09:40:00.003-07:00

Recently in the past few years, there has been quite a few books released on the subject of biblical inerrancy (either directly or indirectly), as seen from Robert Yarbrough's article in the recent issue of Themelios (see here). This has spurred me to organise and put up some of my thoughts on this subject matter, which have been brewing inside for quite some time now.

Firstly, we must ask what do we mean by 'biblical inerrancy'? i.e. we need a definition. I think much of the discussion (or confusion!) often proceeds without defining the term, and it is often assumed what each other means when we say 'inerrancy of the bible'. Such an assumption can no longer be taken for granted for the sake of clarity in the discussion. For this, I follow the lead of Jason Sexton in the same issue of Themelios (see here) who suggests the 1978 Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy (henceforth CSBI) should be highlighted more as a starting basepoint for a definition in the discussion. We reproduce the summary statement of the CSBI which essentially covers what CSBI means by inerrancy:

1. God, who is Himself Truth and speaks truth only, has inspired Holy Scripture in order thereby toreveal Himself to lost mankind through Jesus Christ as Creator and Lord, Redeemer and Judge.Holy Scripture is God’s witness to Himself.

2. Holy Scripture, being God’s own Word, written by men prepared and superintended by His Spirit, is of infallible divine authority in all matters upon which it touches: It is to be believed, as God’s instruction, in all that it affirms; obeyed, as God’s command, in all that it requires; embraced, as God’s pledge, in all that it promises.

3. The Holy Spirit, Scripture’s divine Author, both authenticates it to us by His inward witness andopens our minds to understand its meaning.

4. Being wholly and verbally God-given, Scripture is without error or fault in all its teaching, no less in what it states about God’s acts in creation, about the events of world history, and about its ownliterary origins under God, than in its witness to God’s saving grace in individual lives.

5. The authority of Scripture is inescapably impaired if this total divine inerrancy is in any way limited of disregarded, or made relative to a view of truth contrary to the Bible’s own; and such lapses bring serious loss to both the individual and the Church.

Secondly, we ask What is biblical inerrancy built on? i.e. What's the basis or evidence for biblical inerrancy? The best answer we can give in this regard is that it is a natural and logical conclusion from the twofold Scriptural evidence regarding the nature of Scripture and the fact that God does not lie. The two key passages on the nature of Scripture from 2 Tim 3:16 that 'all Scripture is God-breathed (theopneustos)' and 2 Pet 1:21 that 'men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit' lends us to a conclusion that the words of Scripture are the words of God, i.e. though written by human hands, the words are nonetheless the words of God, so much so that we can say that 'it has flowed to us from the very mouth of God by the ministry of men' (Calvin Inst. 1.7.5). Another way of stating it is that every word of Scripture is there as God intended it to be (Careful observation on 2 Tim 3:16 will also lead us to realise that the quality of being God-breathed or inspired is attached to the text of Scripture, and not to the writers or even to the recipients). The other set of passages would be those stating God does not lie (e.g. Tit 1:2, Heb 6:18). Together, these two truths lead to the natural and logical conclusion that since God spoke the words of Scripture and since God does not lie, all the words of Scripture must be true, or inerrant. The latest writer who has restated this argument is Timothy Ward in his book Words of Life (IVP):

"The claim that the Bible is inerrant is a conclusion that is directly drawn from what Scripture says about God, and about itself in relation to God. Scripture says, as we have seen, that it is breathed out by God, as his own words. In addition, in Scripture God states with great clarity that his character is such that he cannot lie, and that he alone is utterly true and trustworthy. (Titus 1:2, Heb. 6.18) The conclusion that the Bible is inerrant is essentially derived from linking these two related truths closely together." (see here for the quote)

Thirdly, we ask What are some objections to biblical inerrancy? They can be summarised to a few main categories.

Firstly, the doctrine of biblical inerrancy almost seems to lead one to lean towards an almost mechanical dictative mode of Scripture writing, resulting in a non-present or at best, present-by-name only kind of human agency. I think this is an unfair caricature. The CSBI clearly states the involvement of human agency (see summary statement 2 'written by men', and Article VIII 'We affirm that God is His Work of inspiration utilized the distinctive personalities and literary styles of the writers whom He had chosen and prepared. We deny that God, in causing these writers to use the very words that He chose, overrode their personalities'). The key is in the superintendence of the Spirit. Rather, those who object to biblical inerrancy on this count have to ask themselves if there is any hidden assumption within them that human agency must necessitate error. If so, this assumption is not necessarily true. We make dozens of statements every day that are completely true. This point is captured in the CSBI under Article IX '[...] We deny that fortitude or fallenness of these writers, by necessity or otherwise, introduced distortion or falsehood into God's Word'.

Secondly and somewhat related to the first, the doctrine of biblical inerrancy 'flattens' the nature and genres of Scripture by reducing Scripture to merely propositional facts, which are determined as either true or untrue. Carson, picking up on Vanhoozer's work in speech acts in distinguishing between the locutionary (what we mean in saying something), the illocutionary (what we do in saying something) and the prelocutionary (what we bring about in saying something), has this to say: "We cannot say that every passage of Scripture conveys the truth [because of the genre of certain passages], but we can say that every passage is inerrant, i.e. never affirms in matter of fact what is false [considering the illocutionary effects]" (own comments added) (The Gagging of God, 166). Perhaps Carson's statement might help to shed some light on how we can proceed with calling the Bible inerrant while recognising the variety of genres within the Bible, and the rich and complex ways in which these different genres appeal to truth? In any case, this is definitely an objection which must be thought through deeper in discussions of inerrancy (something which the CSBI, unfortunately, does not address much).

Thirdly, the doctrine of biblical inerrancy is an argument based on rationalism. One of the latest writers who have taken this line of argument is A.T.B. McGowan in The Divine Spiration of Scripture (Nottingham: APOLLOS, 2007). The clearest articulation of his objection to the term biblical inerrancy comes in pages 113-119. McGowan first highlights that inerrancy is 'at best, an implication [of the doctrine of inspiration of Scripture] rather than a biblical doctrine'. This, we agree with him. The next question is if such an implication is legitimate, which McGowan does not think so. He views that this implication is highly rationalistic:

"Their [referring to the Princeton theologians of Hodge and Warfield] reasoning was essentially simple: in order to develop a solid epistemology, we must have propositional truth that can be guaranteed with scientific accuracy. We must then handle that truth by using a scientific method. The result is thus a belief in the inerrancy of the autographa and a theological method that reduces Scripture to a set of propositions under the theologian's control." (p.117).

McGowan views such an approach, in turn, limits God to act in a way that conforms to our expectations. "It assumes that our desire for epistemological certainty must be satisfied and it can be satisfied only through the receiving from God of inerrant autographic texts." (p.118).

McGowan's concerns and what he is trying to achieve must be clearly heard and understood in its context. Having done that, however, we have two genuine difficulties with his proposal. Firstly, is the doctrine of inerrancy such an illegitimate implication as McGowan makes it out to be? We think not. Rather, it seems to be a most natural and logical implication that flows from the two truths of God speaking and God not lying (in saying this, however, we are not negating our 2nd point about the differentiated genres of Scripture). In fact, one has to ask if the implications or conclusions of two truths are so clear, then doesn't that make the implication achieve the status of the truth itself? I'm thinking here of the Doctrine of the Trinity. Nowhere is the doctrine of the Trinity mentioned outright in Scripture, but the implications from the whole voice of the Scriptures is so clear that it is right to draw the implications and the doctrine of the Trinity from the witness. The other observation to make is also what forms the base or foundation for the doctrine of biblical inerrancy? Is it the evidence from Scriptures leading to one drawing the conclusion? Or is it the argument of the inerrant autographa? It seems to me to be the first rather than the second. Secondly, I think McGowan in presenting his case has fallen into the error of what he said those on the inerrantist camp has committed - boxing God up. He writes further in his book:

"My argument is that Scripture, having been divinely spirated, is as God intended it to be. Having freely chosen to use human beings, God knew what he was doing. He did not give us an inerrant autographical text, because he did not intend to do so." (p.124, my emphasis)

The above statement is too quick in the light of the discussion. It would have been better to leave things more in a nuetral position rather than to push the argument so hard and risk committing the same error McGowan accuses the other camp of doing.

Nonetheless, McGowan has reminded those of us who hold onto biblical inerrancy to ever be clear of why we hold on to the doctrine (from a natural and logical conclusion of the evidence in Scripture rather than from an epistemic standpoint bordering on epistemic pride), and to be mindful of the way we go about presenting it.

Finally, we ask What's the way forward? It's clear to me that discussion of biblical inerrancy is largely linked to the nature of Scripture. Our discussion of inerrancy hinges on how we understand the nature of Scripture, mainly how we understand the divine and human agencies in Scripture coming together. Whatever the most recent proposal provided (e.g. John Webster's proposal of the creaturely reality of Scripture being sanctified to serve in the saving economy of God's self-communication), there are entailments for the doctrine of inerrancy. Perhaps a way to proceed forward is to take the idea of inerrancy to focus more on the content of Scripture, rather than the form (of the words) of Scripture. By focusing on its content (of which of course the words play a part in forming it), Scripture is shown to be true in what it affirms because of the fulfillment of the promissory nature of it, seen most evidently in the gospel of our Lord Jesus. Francis Watson captures this idea well in his summary article 'An Evangelical Response', in The Trustworthiness of God: Perspectives on the Nature of Scripture (ed. Paul Helm and Carl Trueman; Leicester: APOLLOS, 2002), 285-89. He states:

""Evangelical" discussions of the trustworthiness of Scripture often seem to bypass the euangelion. [...] The result is a doctrine of scriptural "trustworthiness" or "Authority" in which Jesus himself is relatively marginal. [...] The writings of both Testaments converge on the figure of Jesus and on the triune divine identity disclosed in Jesus, and this convergence is the basis of their authority and trustworthiness." (p.288)

In conclusion, then, what's my view on biblical inerrancy? I think I would see myself as a 'soft' inerrantist. I'm still an inerrantist in the sense that I'm not willing to forsake the term and go for others (be it 'infallibilist' or 'limited inerrantist'). I think there's too much at stake in dropping the term and adopting a new term, because the implications of the other camp will automatically be assumed in whatever new term that is adopted, mainly Scripture has errors, something which I do not agree with. But yet, I see myself as a 'soft' inerrantist, in that I really agree with Francis Watson that a better way to discuss inerrancy is to begin with the content of Scripture in the truthfulness it bears to Christ, rather than to begin with the form of the words. This also accounts better for the variegated nature of the genre of Scripture.

2009-05-25T09:40:00.001-07:00

Albert Mohler Jr. on the New Atheism

2009-05-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

Here's what Albert Mohler Jr., president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, and author of Atheism Remix: A Christian Confronts the New Atheists (Illinois: Crossway Books, 2008), has to say about the 'eight hallmarks of the New Atheism [...] that set it apart from older forms of atheism and that frame its challenge to Christian belief' (p.54).

1) The New Atheism is marked by an unprecedented new boldness. Unlike other forms of atheism, which in a way betrays some sense that something important has been lost (for e.g. "the Victorian Loss of Faith" - the slide from Christian belief present during the Victorian era which was accompanied by a sense of mourning and loss), the New Atheist has no such sense of loss, and is instead characterised by a 'cultural cheerfulness'. "The New Atheists seem genuinely to believe that God is dead, but that humanity can now move cheerily along into a brave secular future." (p.23). Along with such cheer comes a sense of boldness and determinism to attach on what they see as the pretensions of theism.

2) There is a clear and specific rejection of the Christian God of the Bible. Note here that the attack is not against some philosophical notion of a supernatural being or the evil of a God who does not prevent moral evil, but rather the attack is specifically against the God of the Bible. It is evil to believe in such a God, they say. A huge part of it has got to do with the fact that majority of people are going to be in eternal torment in hell. "By any measure, [...] such a God is an evil God, and those who would believe in such a God are themselves evil." (p.56).

3) The New Atheists explicitly reject Jesus Christ. Christopher Hitchens views that the book of Revelation presents Jesus as far more vengeful than the God of the Old Testament. Sam Harris states that Jesus clearly believes people are going to hell. Richard Dawkins believes belief in Jesus creates restrictivism - an "in" group and an "out" group, and any thing that promotes such restrictivism is problematic.

4) The New Atheism is specifically grounded in scientific argument. Three of the four main proponents of the New Atheism are scientists by training, and they are explicitly committed to scientism - believing that science must explain everything that is explicable, resulting in a worldview that is naturalism and materialism. Another entailment of their scientism is also that they see science as the way of liberation, the way of freedom, and the way of enlightenment. With such thinking, they see Christianity naturally as an obstacle blocking the way. In my mind, this is one of the points that makes the new atheism so dangerous - it combines the conclusions of the philosophical atheism of someone like Nietzsche, who saw the death of God as necessary for the emergence of the truly free and strong human being, with a scientific explanation so as to make the idea of the death of God actually seem possible and valid.

5) The New Atheism is new in its refusal to tolerate moderate and liberal forms of belief. This point is interesting because the New Atheist see liberal Christianity as on the same side as just as dangerous as conservative Christianity. "They [the liberals] are just enabling the fundamentalists - the real believers - because they are able to fly under the radar, covered by the moderates' popularity and tolerance." (p.61). Mohler is right to conclude from this point the lesson that accommodationist theism gets one nowhere and impresses no one.

6) It attacks toleration. Here, it is interesting again that the New Atheist consider freedom of expression too dangerous, as it legitimates the kinds of belief systems that are dangerous (e.g. Christianity). Sam Harris even states that religious toleration is an experiment that has become 'too expensive'. Here, the viciousness of the New Atheism is seen. It is not only trying to force Christianity into a quiet little corner and domesticate her there, but it is going all out to knock the living daylights out of Christianity and throw her out of the boxing ring. And the New Atheist will do this even if it means going against the postmodern ethos of tolerance and acceptance and relativism.

7) The New Atheists are questioning the right of parents to inculcate belief in their own children. They, especially Dawkins, see this as child abuse. In today's political and cultural climate, such words if framed cleverly in terms of the child's rights and protecting the child from harm, can be very potent and deadly words. Rings straight against the commands of Scripture to instruct our children in the ways of the Lord (Deut 6:4-9, Eph 6:4). If they win the political argument in this area, the impact and structure of the family unit will also be adversely affected. What role do parents then play if what traditionally has been recognised as their prerogative in terms of passing on values and traditions is now seen as criminal and an act of child abuse? Who then will take over the passing on of values and provide the context for our children to grow up in? The state? Culture?

8) The New Atheists argue that religion itself must be eliminated in order to preserve human freedom. "Freedom is the one great good for these secularists, and thus any restriction on human freedom is by definition wrong. In their view, humanity can never be free if the authority of God and church are not overturned." (p.63). Seems like freedom in modern day discussions has been elevated to the supreme good. But have we really understood freedom? (See my earlier post)

These are the eight hallmarks of the New Atheism, as presented by Mohler. And this is probably the best part of his book where we see his analysis at its sharpest and its best. In the rest of the book, Mohler goes on to trace responses from others to The New Atheism - from a Christian scientist and theologian (McGrath) to a Christian philosopher (Plantinga) to theologians who embrace a more revisionist and accomodationst form of theology (Tina Beattie and John Haught). While providing a good summary and overall good insight into their approaches, Mohler is right to say that ultimately,

"the burden of our concern is not merely to refute atheism or to argue for the intellectual credibility of theism in any generic or minimal form. Instead, our task is to present, to teach, to explain, and to defend Christian theism. On this point, the defense of biblical theism reveals the great divide in intellectual thought to be not merely over the existence of God but over the question of whether he has spoken. The materialism and naturalism that are so central to the New Atheism simply reject the category of revelation out of hand. This, in the end, is the real impasse. The issue is not merely metaphysics, but epistemology." (p.84-85)

Here's where I wish Mohler would say more. Having teased out the way forward, it would have been wonderful if Mohler went on to propose a method or way of engaging with the New Atheist with the above conviction in mind. Unfortunately, he doesn't (to be fair to him, that may not have been the intention of the book. But it does one feeling a sense of despair, in that we've seen the problem, we've been pointed to the solution, but have absolutely no idea how to move towards that way). Thinking further, in reality, I think it would be hard to convince a New Atheist of a speaking and revealing God. We would first have to fight the uphill battle of convincing him there is a God to be begin with! And here, the scientific arguments and philosophical arguments of McGrath and Plantinga would help. Having established the grounds for the possibility of God, it would then be more natural to take it to the next step that such a God actually has spoken and revealed. Another angle that also could be explored in engaging with New Atheist is through that of worldviews. How coherent is the New Atheism worldview? What are the consequences that it leads to? Think though these questions through the lens of the New Atheism worldview, and then challenge the New Atheist to consider the Christian worldview, revealed to us by a gracious speaking God, whose very words in Scripture form a storyline which provides nothing less than a comprehensive view of the world and this life we live in.

Karl Barth's doctrine of election and its implication for theological ontology

2009-05-20T08:23:00.000-07:00

Reading my former lecturer's post the other day on Professor Bruce McCormack's paper on reconstructing Barth's doctrine of the Trinity in light of his later Christology (which he presented at the Trinitarian Conference in Auckland) reminded me of one his articles I've read earlier in college. The title of the essay is 'Grace and being: The role of God's gracious election in Karl Barth's theological ontology' in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth (ed. John Webster; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 92-110.

Here, Professor McCormack contends that, from the vantage point of a hundred years from now, Barth's greatest contribution to the development of church doctrine will be located in his doctrine of election. His doctrine '[established] a hermeneutical rule which would allow the church to speak authoritatively about what God was doing - and indeed, who and what God was/is - 'before the foundation of the world', without engaging in speculation'. (92, his emphasis). For those in the know, the unique facet of Barth's doctrine of election was that he saw Jesus Christ, the God-man, as both the Subject of election and its Object; as both the electing God and the elect human. While Barth's doctrine of election has attracted accusations of it heading towards universalism (since Jesus is the elected man who represents the entire human race), Professor McCormack highlights that what was really at stake for Barth in this issue was a question of divine ontology. "The electing God, Barth argues, is not an unknown 'x'. He is a God whose very being - already in eternity - is determined, defined by what he reveals himself to be in Jesus Christ; viz. a God of love and mercy towards the whole human race." (97). The following quote summarises the issue at stake:

What we see in the collision between Calvin and Barth, then, is not simply a clash between two views of the extent of election. At the most fundamental level, it is a clash between a theologian working with what we might call an 'essentialist' ontology and a theologian working with an 'actualistic' ontology. Calvin knows of a mode of being or existence on the part of the Logos asarkos which is independent of his being/existence as Redeemer. Such a view presupposes an 'essentialist' ontology in accordance with which the 'essence' of the Logos (or, as we might prefer, the 'self-identical element' which makes the Logos to be the Subject that it is) is understood to be complete in itself apart from and prior to all actions and relations of that Subject. And divine 'essence', on this view, is something hidden to human perception and ,finally, unknowable.

Barth too, knows of an 'essence' (a self-identical element) in God, but for him 'essence' is given in the act of electing and is, in fact, constituted by that eternal act. It is not an independent 'something' that stands behind all God's acts and relations. God's being, for Barth, is a being-in-act; first, as a being-in-act in eternity and then corresponding to that, as a being-in-act in time. [...] Most importantly, if the eternal being of God is constituted by His eternal act of turning towards the human race - if that is what God is 'essentially' - then God's essence is not hidden to human perception. It is knowable because it is constituted by the act of turning towards us. God in himself is God 'for us'. Knowing God in this way, we can trust that the love and mercy toward the whole human race demonstrated in Jesus' subjection of himself to death on a cross is 'essential' to God and that election is therefore universal in scope. (98-99, emphasis in bold mine)

Deep and interesting words! Shows that for Barth, the issue has ultimately to do with knowing God - or more strictly, knowing God's essence, which is constituted by the act of the incarnation. This does not render the incarnation to be a non-historical event, but it does mean that for Barth, God's essence or being pre-incarnation is one that is already anticipative of the incarnation, and God decided it to be so through his election of Jesus Christ.

While the logic of Barth's thought does lead one to a greater confidence and assurance that God in himself is God 'for us', and in this sense we can say with a greater confidence that we know (because it has been revealed this way) even the essence of God, we have to ask if Barth's doctrine of election can be supported by Scripture. Scripture seems to present more of specific human beings as the object of election (Eph 1:3-4), though Christ is the mirror by which we contemplate our own election (Inst. 3.24.5), and Scripture presents God the Father as the one who does the electing. Also, while Barth's doctrine of election may secure a more knowable 'God in himself', we have to admit that one entailment of his doctrine is that it is hard to escape from the charge of universalism, a point repeatedly refuted by Scripture. So on the balance, my personal preference is to go with Calvin. While that in turn will lead to us ultimately not knowing the essence of God, as Barth and Professor McCormack has pointed out, we just have to trust in the axiom that the 'economic Trinity best reveals the immanent Trinity', i.e. if the love God showed for us in the economy of salvation is the love that flows out from his inter-Trinitarian love that he has in Himself, then we can trust that God in Himself will very much be like how God is towards us, while ultimately leaving space for a godly silence that resists any form of pinpoint accuracy.

A Framework for a more 'biblical-theological' way of doing (systematic) theology? Part II

2009-05-15T07:54:00.000-07:00

This is part II of an earlier post.

In these two posts, I'm trying to see if we can come up with some sort of an initial framework for doing (systematic) theology in a way that is more integrally connected with salvation-history as revealed in the Bible's plot-line, using the discussion generated in Carson's Gagging of God (GOG) chapters 5 and 6 as a base. The earlier post was an initial stab after reading chapter 5, where Carson considers 'opening moves' in the bible's plot-line consisting of Creation, Fall, and (only very briefly) election and history of Israel.

First, a summary of his chapter 6: 'What God has spoken: Climatic Moves in the Bible's Plot-line', before an attempt to synthesise things together.

Carson in this chapter considers the next few key climatic moves in the Bible's plot-line, found in the NT. He rightly highlights that 'some of the features of the New Testament's plot-line have already been introduced by running them from their base in the Old Testament' (p.253), but many of these features and themes 'are sharpened or heightened in the New Testament segment (e.g. God's love, wrath, and his personal triune being). Yet, continuity is not the only name to the game. There are also some other themes 'cast up by the New Testament plot-line which though they have their roots in the Old Testament, play a far larger part in the unfolding drama than did their roots in the earlier stage - and, correspondingly, some prominent features in the Old Testament plot-line now fade away, or, more commonly, are transposed, as it were, to a new key'. So, as Carson states, '[...] Kingdom, Christology, eschatology, church, gospel, become dominat terms of themes. Temple, priest, sacrifice, law, and much more are transposed; national and tribal outlooks gradually fade from view'. (p.254) This point, I think, is Carson's underlying conviction as he works through the rest of the chapter.

He then explores the following elements in the NT plot-line. His first sub-heading is Jesus and the Gospels, where he explores the incarnation; the kingdom that Jesus brings in, and the unity of the canonical Gospels in 'telling the story of Jesus so that the rush of the narrative is toward the cross' (p.263). The second heading is The Coming of the Spirit, where he traces out the person of the Spirit; how the Spirit is integrally linked to the heirs of the new covenant (as a guarantee of the consumation and in terms of his life transforming work in the believer), and the Spirit's work of illumination and conviction. The third heading is The Contribution of the Epistles, where Carson makes three points, of which only one is related to our discussion -that the themes introduced into the Bible at an earlier stage of the story-line are further developed in the epistles (the other two are related more to matters on pluralism, which is the aim of Carson's book). The fourth heading is The Climax, where Carson describes the final state of things as shown in Revelation (though his discussion is slanted more towards denying universalistic salvation). Carson concludes (at least for what is of interest to us) with this statement:

"All of these elements, and more besides, constitute the Bible's story-line. Together they establish what the gospel is, that from which we are saved, the nature of the One to whom we must give an account, the relative importance of this world and the next so far as the focus of our hopes and investments is concerned, the desperate plight in which we find ourselves as we reject the grace of God, the wonders of God's grace along with the ineffable brilliance of his holiness, and much more." (p.277)

So the big question is - is there more light at the end of the tunnel after reading this chapter for how we might come up with a framework for theology that is more sensitive to salvation history? I'm not too sure. But here are some initial thoughts on the whole matter:

1. I think there is some truth in saying that this way of thinking about theology is more 'time-sensitive' and 'worldview-oriented' than the traditional systematic theology approach, which tends towards an atemporal framework. While my personal belief is that both are needed (hence I'm not pitting one against the other), there's some wisdom in what Carson says about preaching the gospel in our increasingly puralistic 'unchurched' culture, where he advocates this approach over the 'purely atemporal' systematic theological one.

"In short, the good news of Jesus Christ is virtually incoherent unless it is securely set into a biblical worldview. [...] To establish [a systematic theological] framework while simultaneously tracing out the rudiments of the Bible's plot-line strikes me as wiser, more strategic. One is simultaneously setting forth a structure of thought, and a meta-narrative; one is constructing a worldview, and showing how that worldview is grounded in the Bible itself. One is teaching people how to read the Bible." (p.502)

2. The second point flows from the first. Because such a way of doing theology is more sensitive and integrally connected to the whole of salvation history found in the Bible's plot-line, there are more 'controls' and guides over the traditional systematic theological approach, which tends to be in the danger of 'stringing' together bible passages isolated out of their salvation-historical context, with the result that some particular doctrines may be emphasised at the expense of others, or worse still, pitted against the other (e.g. God's personal nature pitted against his sovereignty, as perhaps shown most clearly in the case of Open Theism). Biblical theology in some sense help guards against this danger by doing two things. Firstly, any doctrine raised is passed through the salvation historical plotline to see how it develops (e.g. the love of God - love for the world shown in his providential care TO God's love to the world with salvific intent TO God's particular love for his elect, while not excluding other themes like the love the Father has for the Son within the Godhead). Secondly, any doctrine raised is interacted with others as it passes through the salvation historical plotline (e.g. the love of God is interacted with the wrath of God and does not end up diminishing wrath and exalting love, or the love of God is understood in the context of his transcendence, hence excluding the notion that God's love for the world must thus mean he must open himself to what the world experiences).

3. The third point (flowing on from the 2nd) is that because of this interaction between the different doctrines or themes raised, the framework of such a way of doing theology will inevitably ensure a greater interaction and a greater need to define connections between the 7 topics of the 'systematic theology' approach. For e.g., one cannot start to consider the Doctrine of God without considering Christology; or doctrine of church without considering doctrine of man (afterall, we who are in Christ are in the 2nd Adam, and in the true and new humanity defined by Christ); or doctrine of the work of Christ and application of salvation without a serious consideration of the doctrine of sin (and for that matter of fact, doctrine of creation, which grounds accountability for sin), or the doctrine of creation without considering the doctrine of eschatology! In another words, the 7 topics cannot sit so aloof from one another as they can in some traditional systematic theological considerations.

4. And frankly, I have to admit, here is the difficulty. Because of these interactions, it is hard to present things in a systematic presentation or according to major themes and topics when attempting to come up with a framework for theology which is more sensitive to biblical theology.

Perhaps the best that can be suggested at this point is something like this?

The opening moves of Creation and Fall in the Bible's plot-line establishes the key doctrines of God, man and the problem of sin. The points raised under these doctrines are then developed (with an emphasis on either contiunuity or discontinuity) as they pass through the turning moments of Israel's election and history into the coming of Christ and God's new Kingdom in which we as Christians live in this present age. Along the way, the doctrines of Christology, Application of Salvation, and the Church, while having their beginning roots in the OT, will only be fully heightened or sharpened at this point. The climax move of the consumation spells out most clearly the doctrine of eschatology and provides us with a fitting view of the end.

While this sounds almost like the standard layout of the topics in traditional systematic theological textbooks (!), the difference is in the three earlier points seen above.

That's all I've got to at this point. Definitely, more work and thinking needs to be done. I hope to blog on this again after reading the related essays in ed. McGowan's Always Reforming, and Charles Scobie's The Ways of Our God: An Approach to Biblical Theology, where he has a more thematic approach to doing biblical theology, than a strictly systematic or historical one.

Reading Biblical Themes as a Whole

2009-05-14T22:47:00.000-07:00

Carson (Gagging of God, 285-6) highlights that very often, out treatment of certain biblical themes and topic can be reductionistic - in that, we isolate certain passages of Scripture, and 'add' them up together to produce the content of the topic or theme we are looking at, without seeing how the particular theme is teased out in light of the whole bible's redemptive historical plot-line. He states:

"One of the most important hermeneutical constraints one should adopt in order to avoid such reductionism is this: Permit the various attributes and characteristics of God to function in your theology only in the ways they function in Scripture; nerver permit them to function in your theology in such a way that the primary data, the data of Scripture, are contradicted. Thus one must not infer fatalism from the sweeping biblical data about God's sovereignty; one must not infer that God is finite from the constant biblical protrayal of God personally interacting with finite persons. From God's knowledge and sovereignty we must not justify praylessness; from the exhortations to pray and not give up, we must not suppose God is coerced by our speaking [...]. Precisely because God is so gloriously rich and complex a being, we must draw out the lessons the biblical writers draw out, and no others." (p.286)

What good advice for us as we try to do systematic theology! There is a need not only to be 'biblical' in our systematic theology, but to be 'biblical theological'!