Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Slavery to Sin
i don't have anything terribly insightful to say; i just want to ask the question--just what precisely do the scriptures mean that talk about bondage and slavery to sin? is this concept merely referring to liking sin a whole lot and not wanting to give it up? Do they mean feeling like it's hard to change when you want to change? Those both seem like pretty weak realities to be represented so dramatically as "slavery." i was just thinking about this in the car today, and i couldn't really answer to my own satisfaction what is the literal sense in which sin has an oppressive ownership of a person. any thoughts?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Christian Benevolence
Is general benevolence part of the Christian mission? Does showing benevolence to non-Christians have a spiritual value in and of itself? Should the church consider feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, etc. part of its basic and fundamental mission?
This is yet another N.T. Wright-inspired blog (and won't be the last, i'm sure), and he believes that such benevolence is the church's mission. Now, i grant you it seems the obvious answer is "yes" given the way i've asked the questions. But let me elaborate.
N.T. Wright does a fine job, in my view, criticizing those religious groups that act or teach as though the church's mission is fundamentally and (more importantly) entirely immaterial in nature. In other words: We're just supposed to be "saving souls." --making sure that people's ghosts "go to heaven when they die." Their material conditions in life are really beside the point. Our own (Christians) material conditions are really beside the point and not each other's business. We're not in the business of just feeding and sheltering people for the sake of it. If we ever do such, it is *merely* a means to try to persuade them to believe and accept certain theological facts and tenets and then behave accordingly (where "behave accordingly" often means showing up to church and paying your contribution).
Granted, the above is a rather extreme representation of such IMmaterialism; and in all fairness, most religious groups fall along a spectrum between such an extreme and the opposite end, which has been called the "social gospel," which acts or teaches as though the sole nature of our mission is to improve people's material conditions (for instance, you might get the impression from, say, Al Sharpton that God's greatest concern is the cost of healthcare premiums). Wright rejects both extremes and rightly so in my view. But it is his criticism of the immaterialist (or as he calls it "dualist") view that has caught my personal intrigue.
Among various congregations, i've often encountered people who taught openly that the church had absolutely no obligation toward non-Christians other than to preach to them the gospel. And i've definitely experienced in many churches the strong lack of concern for taking care of our own congregants material needs. Again, in fairness, many congregations do SOMETHING along both lines--a food pantry for the community, and service projects for widows or shut-ins in the congregation. What interests me about Wright's comments is that it seems that even among congregations that do something along those lines, there seems to be an underlying impression that such activities are still at best peripheral to the work of converting the lost.
Wright makes a particular argument i find interesting: Why do we have the information in the gospels that we have? If our work is merely about saving souls and getting people "saved," meaning ensuring that they're heading for heaven when they die, then why the piles of information about Christ's benevolent work during His earthly mission? What purpose does it serve us Christians to read that Christ healed people who were sick or dying? Why did Christ feed the five thousand people who were hungry? Why did Christ supply wine for a party? Why did Christ help blind people see and paralytics walk?
i know many people leaning toward the immaterialist side of the church's mission are likely to say (just as i can hear myself saying several years ago) that such were just miracles that were meant to prove and demonstrate Christ's identity and to buttress His largely immaterial mission. But really, such divine power and authority could be proven by other miracles, right? Christ could've had purple lightning shoot from the sky and write on the ground and say "Yep, He's the Messiah alright. Your Friend, YHWH." Christ could've picked up dirt and turned it into a zebra. Christ could've taken some bare law of physics and broken it (like flying or levitating or walking through solid objects). i think, that from an immaterialist point of view, these miracles would have demonstrated His divine power and authority just as much. But what is striking is that the actual miracles Christ performed seem to have a common theme: improving material conditions. If the strict dualist/immaterial or even those who heavily lean in that direction are correct, then why did Jesus heal blind people? Why didn't He just tell them, "your blindness or paralysis doesn't need fixed because this world and life doesn't matter anyway; you just need your soul saved, and I can do that"?
Wright argues that it is just because the nature of Christ's mission does have a material nature, and that this dualistic view that the "spiritual" and "physical" worlds are separate and distinct and the "spiritual" one is the one that counts is erroneous and foreign to the Bible. Wright argues extensively that God's eternal purpose involves the redemption of the world--the physical, created world. That the material world as we know it is in dire need of healing from the effects of sin. Christ's own resurrection, Wright argues, is the firstfruits of that redeemed world yet-to-come. Christ's body was transformed into a new creation. And on His return He will do the same for us and for the earth.
Wright explains that Christ's resurrection proves His present Lordship over the world--even over death. Wright also explains that we (Christians) are those who have accepted such to be true, and have through conversion experienced a present redemption from sin which is a foretaste of the future redemption we will enjoy--the complete transformation of our own bodies and of the world, made impervious to sin and its effects. Because we announce Christ's resurrection as proof of His present lordship and because we proclaim and anticipate His return, and because we enjoy a present redemption and present lived-out-acknowledgement of Christ's present lorship, we ought to be working in the present to bring real, concrete examples of this new creation. And this includes feeding, clothing, and sheltering the poor, treating the sick, even arguing for their sakes in parliament (Wright is a Brit), and even working to care for and heal the environment.
Now it's plenty convincing enough to me that part of a Christian's mission is to care for the material needs of other Christians. There is no shortage of textual evidence that the first century church took care of its own materially speaking--widows were fed, money was given to whoever needed it, etc. And there is no shortage of passages which instruct Christians to do as much--pure religion is caring for widows and orphans, a roll of widows to be cared for by the church is to be kept and scrutinized, and John and James especially equate Christian love with material concern for one another.
I'm less though sufficiently convinced that it's part of a Christian's mission to care for the material needs of non-Christians. "Do good unto all men, especially those of the household of faith" (Galatians 6:10). i don't see how you can escape from Paul's words implying that a Christian is obligated to aim his good works toward non-Christians (though maybe the word "especially" means the quality or quantity of my good works should favor fellow believers). i think there has been less disagreement on this point among The Church of Christ and far more dispute over how it's appropriately carried out (individually vs. collectively being the prominent debate).
For me, the troubling part comes in where benevolence toward non-Christians is seen as an end in itself. Wright speaks as though my handing a starving man a sandwich has spiritual value even if i never breathe a word to that man about the gospel or needing to submit to Christ's authority personally. Wright never says it as bluntly as that, but i don't think i'm misreading him in the least to say he thinks the church should be carrying out benevolence toward non-Christians as an end in itself. And even if all the non-Christians we feed, shelter, heal, and clothe never convert and are ultimately lost eternally, we have nevertheless accomplished (at least part of) the Christian mission by feeding, healing, sheltering, and clothing them. To be even more clear, i understand Wright to be saying that we are accomplishing the Christian mission through such benevolence toward non-Christians even if in that benevolence we never intended nor sought nor tried to convert them into Christianity. Even if we left them where they are in their unbelief (not that we were deliberately withholding the gospel and conversion, but that such wasn't our intended nor additional goal in such benevolent acts) and fed and clothed them anyway, we have still done Christian work.
That is the bit i can't really wrap my mind around. i'm not prepared to say i think Wright is categorically wrong. But i can't see how there's spiritual or Christian-mission-value in merely improving the physical conditions of non-Christians. Do you think you've accomplished the work of Christ if you gave an orphan a home but didn't aid at all in her learning the gospel or believing it? Do you think you're working the Christian mission by getting an atheist alcoholic into rehab but never in anyway challenging his atheism? If a church were to send giant amounts of care packages to a town in India full of Hindus with absolutely zero mention of the Christian faith or challenge to Hinduism, has that church engaged in the work of the gospel?
Now i think Wright is likely correct that such benevolence and seeking to improve material conditions is not merely a means to get them into the baptistry. And i also think he's likely right that improving material conditions should not be seen as a separate, air-tight compartment from dealing with people's personal need for personal conversion. (And it is these two admissions which make me realize i'm not ready to disagree with him flatly, and all i've got is skepticism.) But i don't see how benevolence, even if it is done out of Christian motivation (imitating Christ, or displaying Christ's love and lordship), when done with no view toward evangelism has any spiritual value for accomplishing the Christian mission, and especially any spiritual value for the recipients of such benevolence.
This is yet another N.T. Wright-inspired blog (and won't be the last, i'm sure), and he believes that such benevolence is the church's mission. Now, i grant you it seems the obvious answer is "yes" given the way i've asked the questions. But let me elaborate.
N.T. Wright does a fine job, in my view, criticizing those religious groups that act or teach as though the church's mission is fundamentally and (more importantly) entirely immaterial in nature. In other words: We're just supposed to be "saving souls." --making sure that people's ghosts "go to heaven when they die." Their material conditions in life are really beside the point. Our own (Christians) material conditions are really beside the point and not each other's business. We're not in the business of just feeding and sheltering people for the sake of it. If we ever do such, it is *merely* a means to try to persuade them to believe and accept certain theological facts and tenets and then behave accordingly (where "behave accordingly" often means showing up to church and paying your contribution).
Granted, the above is a rather extreme representation of such IMmaterialism; and in all fairness, most religious groups fall along a spectrum between such an extreme and the opposite end, which has been called the "social gospel," which acts or teaches as though the sole nature of our mission is to improve people's material conditions (for instance, you might get the impression from, say, Al Sharpton that God's greatest concern is the cost of healthcare premiums). Wright rejects both extremes and rightly so in my view. But it is his criticism of the immaterialist (or as he calls it "dualist") view that has caught my personal intrigue.
Among various congregations, i've often encountered people who taught openly that the church had absolutely no obligation toward non-Christians other than to preach to them the gospel. And i've definitely experienced in many churches the strong lack of concern for taking care of our own congregants material needs. Again, in fairness, many congregations do SOMETHING along both lines--a food pantry for the community, and service projects for widows or shut-ins in the congregation. What interests me about Wright's comments is that it seems that even among congregations that do something along those lines, there seems to be an underlying impression that such activities are still at best peripheral to the work of converting the lost.
Wright makes a particular argument i find interesting: Why do we have the information in the gospels that we have? If our work is merely about saving souls and getting people "saved," meaning ensuring that they're heading for heaven when they die, then why the piles of information about Christ's benevolent work during His earthly mission? What purpose does it serve us Christians to read that Christ healed people who were sick or dying? Why did Christ feed the five thousand people who were hungry? Why did Christ supply wine for a party? Why did Christ help blind people see and paralytics walk?
i know many people leaning toward the immaterialist side of the church's mission are likely to say (just as i can hear myself saying several years ago) that such were just miracles that were meant to prove and demonstrate Christ's identity and to buttress His largely immaterial mission. But really, such divine power and authority could be proven by other miracles, right? Christ could've had purple lightning shoot from the sky and write on the ground and say "Yep, He's the Messiah alright. Your Friend, YHWH." Christ could've picked up dirt and turned it into a zebra. Christ could've taken some bare law of physics and broken it (like flying or levitating or walking through solid objects). i think, that from an immaterialist point of view, these miracles would have demonstrated His divine power and authority just as much. But what is striking is that the actual miracles Christ performed seem to have a common theme: improving material conditions. If the strict dualist/immaterial or even those who heavily lean in that direction are correct, then why did Jesus heal blind people? Why didn't He just tell them, "your blindness or paralysis doesn't need fixed because this world and life doesn't matter anyway; you just need your soul saved, and I can do that"?
Wright argues that it is just because the nature of Christ's mission does have a material nature, and that this dualistic view that the "spiritual" and "physical" worlds are separate and distinct and the "spiritual" one is the one that counts is erroneous and foreign to the Bible. Wright argues extensively that God's eternal purpose involves the redemption of the world--the physical, created world. That the material world as we know it is in dire need of healing from the effects of sin. Christ's own resurrection, Wright argues, is the firstfruits of that redeemed world yet-to-come. Christ's body was transformed into a new creation. And on His return He will do the same for us and for the earth.
Wright explains that Christ's resurrection proves His present Lordship over the world--even over death. Wright also explains that we (Christians) are those who have accepted such to be true, and have through conversion experienced a present redemption from sin which is a foretaste of the future redemption we will enjoy--the complete transformation of our own bodies and of the world, made impervious to sin and its effects. Because we announce Christ's resurrection as proof of His present lordship and because we proclaim and anticipate His return, and because we enjoy a present redemption and present lived-out-acknowledgement of Christ's present lorship, we ought to be working in the present to bring real, concrete examples of this new creation. And this includes feeding, clothing, and sheltering the poor, treating the sick, even arguing for their sakes in parliament (Wright is a Brit), and even working to care for and heal the environment.
Now it's plenty convincing enough to me that part of a Christian's mission is to care for the material needs of other Christians. There is no shortage of textual evidence that the first century church took care of its own materially speaking--widows were fed, money was given to whoever needed it, etc. And there is no shortage of passages which instruct Christians to do as much--pure religion is caring for widows and orphans, a roll of widows to be cared for by the church is to be kept and scrutinized, and John and James especially equate Christian love with material concern for one another.
I'm less though sufficiently convinced that it's part of a Christian's mission to care for the material needs of non-Christians. "Do good unto all men, especially those of the household of faith" (Galatians 6:10). i don't see how you can escape from Paul's words implying that a Christian is obligated to aim his good works toward non-Christians (though maybe the word "especially" means the quality or quantity of my good works should favor fellow believers). i think there has been less disagreement on this point among The Church of Christ and far more dispute over how it's appropriately carried out (individually vs. collectively being the prominent debate).
For me, the troubling part comes in where benevolence toward non-Christians is seen as an end in itself. Wright speaks as though my handing a starving man a sandwich has spiritual value even if i never breathe a word to that man about the gospel or needing to submit to Christ's authority personally. Wright never says it as bluntly as that, but i don't think i'm misreading him in the least to say he thinks the church should be carrying out benevolence toward non-Christians as an end in itself. And even if all the non-Christians we feed, shelter, heal, and clothe never convert and are ultimately lost eternally, we have nevertheless accomplished (at least part of) the Christian mission by feeding, healing, sheltering, and clothing them. To be even more clear, i understand Wright to be saying that we are accomplishing the Christian mission through such benevolence toward non-Christians even if in that benevolence we never intended nor sought nor tried to convert them into Christianity. Even if we left them where they are in their unbelief (not that we were deliberately withholding the gospel and conversion, but that such wasn't our intended nor additional goal in such benevolent acts) and fed and clothed them anyway, we have still done Christian work.
That is the bit i can't really wrap my mind around. i'm not prepared to say i think Wright is categorically wrong. But i can't see how there's spiritual or Christian-mission-value in merely improving the physical conditions of non-Christians. Do you think you've accomplished the work of Christ if you gave an orphan a home but didn't aid at all in her learning the gospel or believing it? Do you think you're working the Christian mission by getting an atheist alcoholic into rehab but never in anyway challenging his atheism? If a church were to send giant amounts of care packages to a town in India full of Hindus with absolutely zero mention of the Christian faith or challenge to Hinduism, has that church engaged in the work of the gospel?
Now i think Wright is likely correct that such benevolence and seeking to improve material conditions is not merely a means to get them into the baptistry. And i also think he's likely right that improving material conditions should not be seen as a separate, air-tight compartment from dealing with people's personal need for personal conversion. (And it is these two admissions which make me realize i'm not ready to disagree with him flatly, and all i've got is skepticism.) But i don't see how benevolence, even if it is done out of Christian motivation (imitating Christ, or displaying Christ's love and lordship), when done with no view toward evangelism has any spiritual value for accomplishing the Christian mission, and especially any spiritual value for the recipients of such benevolence.
In all fairness, i need to grant that Wright could come back and say he thinks all benevolence should be done with an ultimate view toward evangelism (although i still don't think he would; he says plenty to suggest he thinks that raw benevolence toward non-Christians is qualitatively on par with evangelism). And, of course, there is such a thing as long-term benevolence with an eventual goal of evangelism (missionaries may come to an area and spend a great deal of time caring for the needs of native and learning their language before they speak one word about the gospel--and such relationship building is terribly valuable to that eventual evangelistic work). But these facts don't change the question: Is benevolence toward non-Christians with no view toward evangelism a legitimate part of the church's work? i personally can't see how to justify answering "yes." Can you?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Rethinking Epistemology
I'm nearly finished with Wright's "Surprised By Hope" book, which is full of very huge, big, meaty things that i need to think and rethink through (i'll probably read it again and probably again). One big thing Wright brings up that is of particular interest to me as a philosopher is the need to rethink traditional epistemology. Epistemology is just a fancy, i-sound-smarter-than-you word for studying knowledge--What is knowledge? How do we come by it? and What can be known?
In academic and published philosophy, there has been wide agreement among many that knowledge is at least (1) justified (2) true (3) belief. A significant project in epistemology is to offer and critique accounts of how justification works--offering and critiquing answers regarding how much and what kind of justification is needed for a person to "know" something. It usually becomes a matter of trying to escape skepticism which can always come back and ask, "well how do you know that?" So people try to give knock down drag out arguments about how a person can definitely be 100% justified in knowing something.
The thing that has struck me about the matter in my last couple years at OU is how traditional study of knowledge seems to treat the human mind and its function as a knowing device as little more than a data cruncher. Wright offers the complaint that epistemologists have largely treated human beings as though we're "computers made of meat." Knowing something amounts to just having a chain of hard data where one line follows indisputably from the previous until a conclusion is reached. --and this is how people "know" (so many epistemologists claim). (Wright poses the ideas that "knowing" can by love and by hope, but he doesn't write nearly enough detail about those suggestions to give much to work with philosophically. argh!)
i myself have felt that same complaint in my philosophy classes. is knowing really just about being a data cruncher? (If anyone even slightly philosophically savvy is reading this, i realize i am GROSSLY oversimplifying a lot of the issues involved, but much of the details really aren't relevant to the point i want to make in this blog.) Is knowledge really about possessing enough abstractions which accurately represent the external world in your brain and putting them together the right way? Well, i admit that SOME knowledge is like that. Knowing that a certain math equation is true or false is something akin to that. What i have found troublesome is that a lot of epistemology treats *all* knowledge as though it is at least comparable in nature to knowing whether a certain math problem is right or wrong.
Consider this: do you have children? or do you have a spouse or significant other? just think of someone you love very dearly. If someone were to ask you the question, "how do you know you love that person?", what would you say? i'm sure we could come up with all kinds of reasons which justify us knowing that we love someone. And let's say we put down on paper all of the reasons you could possibly think of. Here's the thing, would you really say that knowing that you love that person is completely reducable to just possessing all those reasons in your brain and making connections between those reasons? Does the idea that this is *all* there is to knowing you love someone--does that seem right to you? For instance, let's suppose we could take all your stated reasons (say, 100 reasons total) and input them into a super computer. If we could input them into that computer, and if the computer arranged all that data in a certain way, would you accept the claim that now the computer knows it loves that person?
i daresay that there is one or more components to knowing certain things which cannot be captured as mere interconnected data. And many of the traditional Justified-True-Belief accounts of knowledge come very close, in my view, to suggesting something like this.
In academic and published philosophy, there has been wide agreement among many that knowledge is at least (1) justified (2) true (3) belief. A significant project in epistemology is to offer and critique accounts of how justification works--offering and critiquing answers regarding how much and what kind of justification is needed for a person to "know" something. It usually becomes a matter of trying to escape skepticism which can always come back and ask, "well how do you know that?" So people try to give knock down drag out arguments about how a person can definitely be 100% justified in knowing something.
The thing that has struck me about the matter in my last couple years at OU is how traditional study of knowledge seems to treat the human mind and its function as a knowing device as little more than a data cruncher. Wright offers the complaint that epistemologists have largely treated human beings as though we're "computers made of meat." Knowing something amounts to just having a chain of hard data where one line follows indisputably from the previous until a conclusion is reached. --and this is how people "know" (so many epistemologists claim). (Wright poses the ideas that "knowing" can by love and by hope, but he doesn't write nearly enough detail about those suggestions to give much to work with philosophically. argh!)
i myself have felt that same complaint in my philosophy classes. is knowing really just about being a data cruncher? (If anyone even slightly philosophically savvy is reading this, i realize i am GROSSLY oversimplifying a lot of the issues involved, but much of the details really aren't relevant to the point i want to make in this blog.) Is knowledge really about possessing enough abstractions which accurately represent the external world in your brain and putting them together the right way? Well, i admit that SOME knowledge is like that. Knowing that a certain math equation is true or false is something akin to that. What i have found troublesome is that a lot of epistemology treats *all* knowledge as though it is at least comparable in nature to knowing whether a certain math problem is right or wrong.
Consider this: do you have children? or do you have a spouse or significant other? just think of someone you love very dearly. If someone were to ask you the question, "how do you know you love that person?", what would you say? i'm sure we could come up with all kinds of reasons which justify us knowing that we love someone. And let's say we put down on paper all of the reasons you could possibly think of. Here's the thing, would you really say that knowing that you love that person is completely reducable to just possessing all those reasons in your brain and making connections between those reasons? Does the idea that this is *all* there is to knowing you love someone--does that seem right to you? For instance, let's suppose we could take all your stated reasons (say, 100 reasons total) and input them into a super computer. If we could input them into that computer, and if the computer arranged all that data in a certain way, would you accept the claim that now the computer knows it loves that person?
i daresay that there is one or more components to knowing certain things which cannot be captured as mere interconnected data. And many of the traditional Justified-True-Belief accounts of knowledge come very close, in my view, to suggesting something like this.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Why I Am Still A Member Of The Church Of Christ Part 5
So why don't i go elsewhere? Well, where could i go? Like i said, i've considered some options before. Could i go to a Christian Church? Well, like i said, instrumental music is still an issue for me. And frankly, why would i go to a Christian Church even if it weren't? Aside from the instruments, there's no major difference between the CoC and CC. My list of criticisms would basically be the same about the CC as they are about the CoC. i thought about the Primitive Baptists for about a split second, but i'm not a Calvinist (though i don't think anyone will necessarily be lost over Calvinism and have found that i can actually stomach a lot of their writings just fine) and again, i think my criticisms of them would largely be the same--so again, nothing gained. i've considered the Orthodox Church. They immerse, they don't use instruments, and they hold as an ideal that the ancient church should be imitated. Yeah, but they immerse infants, which i just can't get over; and they treat a division between clergy and laity as legitimate--something i'm definitely not okay with. So i'm really in the best place i can be and don't see any options superior to where i am now.
Aren't there other reasons i'm still a member of the CoC? Well, kinda. There are other teachings common to the CoC that i agree with, but they don't quite possess the same "deal-breaker" status as the four i've listed in the previous blogs. Here's a couple:
1. Sola Scriptura -- i believe the Bible (the autographa) is inspired and inerrant and authoritative. And if any religious group were to deny that, it would be a deal breaker for me. However, i have several questions and uncertainties about how to understand just how Bible authority should be framed. i'm not saying i think there's some other authority that ought to be introduced. and i'm not saying i think the Bible is anything less than authoritative. i'm just not sure i see clearly all the necessary connections that lead from the first century church (who had miraculous gifts and either no or only a partial New Testament) to Sola Scriptura in the 21st century.
2. Eldership/Church Organization -- i maybe could've put that i'm still a member of the CoC because i think churches should have elderships rather than pastors or priests or whatever. it's true, i think the episcopal and pastoral models of organization are mistaken. but i don't make a big deal out of this because i'm not sure we have this exactly right either. i think elders functioned as immediate leaders among churches in the first century, but i am far less convinced that the way the CoC 'does' eldership and leadership is the same way that the first century church did it. Plenty in our time have already made the complaint (with which i agree) that first century elders do not appear to have been the number crunching board of directors we have today. i suspect their first century role comes far closer to what many now expect of ministers. but furthermore there's a couple of passages that suggest to me that in the first century one eldership might have overseen more than one assembly. anyway, like i said, i think we're closer than the other major alternatives of church government, but i really don't think we're quite there yet.
3. Cessationism -- i definitely could've said that i'm still a member of the CoC because the CoC commonly teaches that the miraculous gifts as practiced and performed by Jesus, the apostles, and the first century church have ceased. If a congregation i attended started trying to practice miraculous gifts like tongue speaking and healing--that would be a deal-breaker for me and i would be out the door. So i suppose it might be a significant reason why i'm still a member. But i have a lot of questions and uncertainties about how the presence of miraculous gifts in the first century church related to its practical functioning, especially its practice of edification. The truth is, i really haven't studied well on this at all. But it at least seems there were "gifts" both miraculous and non-miraculous, and that they all buttressed the church's practice of mutual edification--every member being responsible for and functioning as an edifying agent for every other member. Was that practice meant to continue after the miraculous gifts disappeared? At some point (around the time of Constantine, i think, but i may be mistaken), the practice disappeared anyway and edifcation became a one-man-show much like we practice today. Should we go back to mutual edification? i largely lean toward "yes" frankly, but i have lingering doubts because i don't know just how much of a buttress those miraculous gifts were to that practice. In the first century, if someone spoke up, i don't suppose i would've needed to be too terribly worried about how thoroughly that man had studied out what he said--after all, he was getting it straight from the Holy Spirit! and yet, in our day and time, there is no such convenient dependability when someone speaks up. This is more complicated than i meant to make it. All i really wanted to say is that while cessationism is a rather significant position to me such that trying to implement the opposite would be a deal break for me, i still have enough questions wrapped up in the topic so as not to rest my whole weight on it as a conviction.
Aren't there other reasons i'm still a member of the CoC? Well, kinda. There are other teachings common to the CoC that i agree with, but they don't quite possess the same "deal-breaker" status as the four i've listed in the previous blogs. Here's a couple:
1. Sola Scriptura -- i believe the Bible (the autographa) is inspired and inerrant and authoritative. And if any religious group were to deny that, it would be a deal breaker for me. However, i have several questions and uncertainties about how to understand just how Bible authority should be framed. i'm not saying i think there's some other authority that ought to be introduced. and i'm not saying i think the Bible is anything less than authoritative. i'm just not sure i see clearly all the necessary connections that lead from the first century church (who had miraculous gifts and either no or only a partial New Testament) to Sola Scriptura in the 21st century.
2. Eldership/Church Organization -- i maybe could've put that i'm still a member of the CoC because i think churches should have elderships rather than pastors or priests or whatever. it's true, i think the episcopal and pastoral models of organization are mistaken. but i don't make a big deal out of this because i'm not sure we have this exactly right either. i think elders functioned as immediate leaders among churches in the first century, but i am far less convinced that the way the CoC 'does' eldership and leadership is the same way that the first century church did it. Plenty in our time have already made the complaint (with which i agree) that first century elders do not appear to have been the number crunching board of directors we have today. i suspect their first century role comes far closer to what many now expect of ministers. but furthermore there's a couple of passages that suggest to me that in the first century one eldership might have overseen more than one assembly. anyway, like i said, i think we're closer than the other major alternatives of church government, but i really don't think we're quite there yet.
3. Cessationism -- i definitely could've said that i'm still a member of the CoC because the CoC commonly teaches that the miraculous gifts as practiced and performed by Jesus, the apostles, and the first century church have ceased. If a congregation i attended started trying to practice miraculous gifts like tongue speaking and healing--that would be a deal-breaker for me and i would be out the door. So i suppose it might be a significant reason why i'm still a member. But i have a lot of questions and uncertainties about how the presence of miraculous gifts in the first century church related to its practical functioning, especially its practice of edification. The truth is, i really haven't studied well on this at all. But it at least seems there were "gifts" both miraculous and non-miraculous, and that they all buttressed the church's practice of mutual edification--every member being responsible for and functioning as an edifying agent for every other member. Was that practice meant to continue after the miraculous gifts disappeared? At some point (around the time of Constantine, i think, but i may be mistaken), the practice disappeared anyway and edifcation became a one-man-show much like we practice today. Should we go back to mutual edification? i largely lean toward "yes" frankly, but i have lingering doubts because i don't know just how much of a buttress those miraculous gifts were to that practice. In the first century, if someone spoke up, i don't suppose i would've needed to be too terribly worried about how thoroughly that man had studied out what he said--after all, he was getting it straight from the Holy Spirit! and yet, in our day and time, there is no such convenient dependability when someone speaks up. This is more complicated than i meant to make it. All i really wanted to say is that while cessationism is a rather significant position to me such that trying to implement the opposite would be a deal break for me, i still have enough questions wrapped up in the topic so as not to rest my whole weight on it as a conviction.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Hell, Justice, and N.T. Wright
Is there a hell? If so, what is it? Where is it? When is it? Will anyone even be there? What's it like? Will it consist of everlasting punishment? Is it just a textual metaphor to describe annihilation?
i've been reading very carefully through N.T. Wright's "Surprised By Hope." Wright (reluctantly, he admits) covers the above questions pretty far into the book. Wright notes that many in the past couple hundred years grew increasingly disgusted by the thought of a celestial torture chamber. Many of those went the route of universalism--either there's really no hell at all, or else there is one but no one will be there, or maybe it's not really "hell" at all, but just some place where God continues to woo people to His side until eventually everyone gives in and goes to heaven.
i am very sympathetic to the sentiments Wright expresses against such a notion:
Consider any of the suffering and evil in the world, whether extreme and heavily marked in historical memory or whether your own personal, deep gashes from the evil in the world. When you consider such in light of the goodness and holiness of God, aren't you moved to conclude that surely there's ultimate justice for such crimes? Surely there's a "hell" (whatever that means)? There's a song by U2 called "Peace on Earth" that wrestles with this matter in an artistic but fantastic and brilliant way. Generally, the song asks something like this: How can the angels around the time of Jesus' birth shout "Peace on earth!" when people lives are lost in wars fought over causes less valuable than those lives, and when the families of those lost have to continue on in this life without them? (i highly recommend giving the song a listen!) Does the thought really settle nicely in your stomach that there's no hell and those impenitent perputrators of massive evil in history will just big fat get away with it? Do you really find it pallatable that those who have severely wounded you in this life and have done so impenitently might never really face any consequences for their actions whatsoever (and may even seem to prosper from those actions)?
I'm not talking here about seeking revenge. I'm not talking about getting even. I'm not talking about a desire inside to get the chance personally to inflict and take pleasure in harming such villains. I'm also not talking about ignoring the fact that we also are villains in the sight of God. What if in our society there were no criminal court system, no police force, no law enforcement or retribution for wrongs committed? That feeling--that feeling of being deeply disturbed and unsettled in such an environment--is not about personal vengeance. Surely, (short of being a sociopath, i suppose) we have all felt such a disturbance when the wrong and evil committed did not personally involve us at all--when we had no personal axe to grind or vendetta to satisfy. i'm talking about justice. i'm talking about just what Wright says--the strong sense that evil ought to be identified and shown for what it is, and that it ought to be dealt with and put right (whatever that might mean), and that until that is done, something is unsettled, something is left undone, something is not okay.
There are those who are still disgusted with the celestial torture chamber idea who have rejected universalism as an option. Wright calls these "conditionalists." (181) Basically, conditionalists are those who believe in annihilation for the wicked. Those impenitent evil doers simply cease to be. Wright finds this option unacceptable:
i agree, there are definitely passages i find very problematic when attempting to maintain annhililationism, and thus such a position turns out to be unacceptable. But i also find myself rejecting annihilationism on far stronger grounds. Or should i say, i personally experience far stronger convictions which serve as far greater motivation to reject annihilationism than just some passages being problematic. It seems to me that annihilationism still lets all those evil doers off the hook. What annihiliationism leads to, then, is that the wicked are given cessation of existence as a sentence or punishment. Really? Think for a moment. Do you really consider something akin to dreamless sleep to be a punishment?
i know plenty of angles could be thrown in to describe how such may serve as a punishment--that annihilated people no longer have any of the blessings or opportunities that come with existence. Fine. But consider this: The annihilationist presents as a punishment (something undesirable) something that many "good" and "innocent" and "victimized" people have longed for as a blessing. Some people suffering horribly in this life have looked upon the idea of dreamless sleep as a hope and a relief and a comfort. And this, the annihilationist tells us, is the "plight" of the wicked. A plight?--i must say, i hardly see how that's a plight at all. True, an annihilated person isn't around to enjoy the opportunities of existence, but neither is he around to answer for what he's done!
i don't have any elegant or sophisticated argument to offer other than the less-than-sophisticated comments above. All i can say is that in the pit of my gut, i cannot see how annihilationism is compatible with justice (especially its retributional and restorative elements). [i want also to note here that Wright himself argues a great deal in his book that bodily resurrection is a necessary part of justice--of God "putting the world to rights" by correcting or dealing with death as an evil part of the world. It is in that same vein which i find that annihilation of the wicked is incompatible with God's putting the world to rights. But that point is probably an entire post in itself.]
Wright proposes an alternative to both universalism and annihilationism:
This is Wright's account of hell. i admit it's probably true that much of our modern conception of hell originates far more in the literature and lore of the middle ages rather than from the New Testament and first century perspectives. And i am also appreciative of Wright's sentiments in wanting to reject both universalism and annihilationism. And i also admit that Wright's thoughts here seem consistent with biblical principles such as reaping what you sow. However, i still find that Wright's portrait doesn't quite satisfy my internal longing for justice either. While i think there's far more than just a grain of truth to the notion that the wicked dig their own grave or set their own trap, this portrait of hell still seems to feature the wicked as the sole instigators or active builders of their own eternal plight.
Now i agree that such is true in the sense that the wicked by their own lifelong choices have earned their ultimate fate. But the notion of God as a judge seems to require that He does something. Wright's picture of hell sounds a tad deistic to me--God just designed the world in such a way that bad actions in this life are akin to climbing down a pit step by step and eventually you reach the bottom (hell). God built it that way, wound up the clock, and now we're on our own. That's an interesting theory and could arguably be called a means by which God exercises justice. But it still seems to me incompatible with the thought of God as an ultimate judge who is returning for the purpose of putting everything right.
Passages like 2Thessalonians 1:6-9 suggest a far more active and instigative role for God in His dealings with the wicked. Hell, then, it seems to me, must consist in more than merely letting the wicked take the very last step off the ladder and reach the bottom of the pit. i think it must involve God actively serving out the just, retributive sentence on the wicked for their wickedness.
And i must also add, i think that means that such a state is an everlasting one. There's been plenty of contention in recent times over the duration of hell. i think if we put a temporal cap on hell at all, then we've conceded that there's hope and relief to be given to the wicked. Why be afraid of hell if it will eventually be over? Haven't you ever comforted yourself by thinking something similar to "this surgery will only last a couple hours, it'll all be over soon"? That same comfort and relief and something-to-look-forward-to type of hope belongs to the wicked too if we forfeit an everlasting hell. That to me doesn't seem all that "hellish."
i've been reading very carefully through N.T. Wright's "Surprised By Hope." Wright (reluctantly, he admits) covers the above questions pretty far into the book. Wright notes that many in the past couple hundred years grew increasingly disgusted by the thought of a celestial torture chamber. Many of those went the route of universalism--either there's really no hell at all, or else there is one but no one will be there, or maybe it's not really "hell" at all, but just some place where God continues to woo people to His side until eventually everyone gives in and goes to heaven.
i am very sympathetic to the sentiments Wright expresses against such a notion:
"Faced with the Balkans, Rwanda, the Middle East, Darfur, and all kinds of other horrors that enlightened Western thought can neither explain nor alleviate, opinion in many quarters has, rightly in my view, come to see that there must be such a thing as judgment. Judgment--the sovereign declaration that this is good and to be upheld and vindicated, and that is evil and to be condemned--is the only alternative to chaos." (178)
"one cannot forever whistle 'There's a wideness in God's mercy' in the darkness of Hiroshima, of Auschwitz, of the murder of children and the careless greed that enslaves millions with debts not their own." (180)
Consider any of the suffering and evil in the world, whether extreme and heavily marked in historical memory or whether your own personal, deep gashes from the evil in the world. When you consider such in light of the goodness and holiness of God, aren't you moved to conclude that surely there's ultimate justice for such crimes? Surely there's a "hell" (whatever that means)? There's a song by U2 called "Peace on Earth" that wrestles with this matter in an artistic but fantastic and brilliant way. Generally, the song asks something like this: How can the angels around the time of Jesus' birth shout "Peace on earth!" when people lives are lost in wars fought over causes less valuable than those lives, and when the families of those lost have to continue on in this life without them? (i highly recommend giving the song a listen!) Does the thought really settle nicely in your stomach that there's no hell and those impenitent perputrators of massive evil in history will just big fat get away with it? Do you really find it pallatable that those who have severely wounded you in this life and have done so impenitently might never really face any consequences for their actions whatsoever (and may even seem to prosper from those actions)?
I'm not talking here about seeking revenge. I'm not talking about getting even. I'm not talking about a desire inside to get the chance personally to inflict and take pleasure in harming such villains. I'm also not talking about ignoring the fact that we also are villains in the sight of God. What if in our society there were no criminal court system, no police force, no law enforcement or retribution for wrongs committed? That feeling--that feeling of being deeply disturbed and unsettled in such an environment--is not about personal vengeance. Surely, (short of being a sociopath, i suppose) we have all felt such a disturbance when the wrong and evil committed did not personally involve us at all--when we had no personal axe to grind or vendetta to satisfy. i'm talking about justice. i'm talking about just what Wright says--the strong sense that evil ought to be identified and shown for what it is, and that it ought to be dealt with and put right (whatever that might mean), and that until that is done, something is unsettled, something is left undone, something is not okay.
There are those who are still disgusted with the celestial torture chamber idea who have rejected universalism as an option. Wright calls these "conditionalists." (181) Basically, conditionalists are those who believe in annihilation for the wicked. Those impenitent evil doers simply cease to be. Wright finds this option unacceptable:
"The conditionalist avoids this [the disgusting thought of a celestial torture chamber] at the apparent cost of belittling those scriptural passages that appear to speak unambiguously of a continuing state for those who reject the worship of the true God and the way of humanness, which follows from it." (181-182)
i agree, there are definitely passages i find very problematic when attempting to maintain annhililationism, and thus such a position turns out to be unacceptable. But i also find myself rejecting annihilationism on far stronger grounds. Or should i say, i personally experience far stronger convictions which serve as far greater motivation to reject annihilationism than just some passages being problematic. It seems to me that annihilationism still lets all those evil doers off the hook. What annihiliationism leads to, then, is that the wicked are given cessation of existence as a sentence or punishment. Really? Think for a moment. Do you really consider something akin to dreamless sleep to be a punishment?
i know plenty of angles could be thrown in to describe how such may serve as a punishment--that annihilated people no longer have any of the blessings or opportunities that come with existence. Fine. But consider this: The annihilationist presents as a punishment (something undesirable) something that many "good" and "innocent" and "victimized" people have longed for as a blessing. Some people suffering horribly in this life have looked upon the idea of dreamless sleep as a hope and a relief and a comfort. And this, the annihilationist tells us, is the "plight" of the wicked. A plight?--i must say, i hardly see how that's a plight at all. True, an annihilated person isn't around to enjoy the opportunities of existence, but neither is he around to answer for what he's done!
i don't have any elegant or sophisticated argument to offer other than the less-than-sophisticated comments above. All i can say is that in the pit of my gut, i cannot see how annihilationism is compatible with justice (especially its retributional and restorative elements). [i want also to note here that Wright himself argues a great deal in his book that bodily resurrection is a necessary part of justice--of God "putting the world to rights" by correcting or dealing with death as an evil part of the world. It is in that same vein which i find that annihilation of the wicked is incompatible with God's putting the world to rights. But that point is probably an entire post in itself.]
Wright proposes an alternative to both universalism and annihilationism:
"My suggestion is that it is possible for human beings so to continue down this road [sinful, rebellious living], so to refuse all whisperings of good news, all glimmers of the true light, all prompting to turn and go the other way, all signposts to the love of God, that after death they become at least, by their own effective choice, beings that once were human but now are not, creatures that have ceased to bear the divine image at all. With the death of that body in which they inhabited God's good world, in which the flickering glame of goodness had not been completely snuffed out, they pass simultaneously not only beyond hope but also beyond pity. There is no concentration camp in the beautiful countryside, no torture chamber in the palace of delight. Those creatures that still exist in an ex-human state, no longer reflecting their maker in any meaningful sense, can no longer excite in themselves or others the natural sympathy some feel even for the
hardened criminal." (182-183)
This is Wright's account of hell. i admit it's probably true that much of our modern conception of hell originates far more in the literature and lore of the middle ages rather than from the New Testament and first century perspectives. And i am also appreciative of Wright's sentiments in wanting to reject both universalism and annihilationism. And i also admit that Wright's thoughts here seem consistent with biblical principles such as reaping what you sow. However, i still find that Wright's portrait doesn't quite satisfy my internal longing for justice either. While i think there's far more than just a grain of truth to the notion that the wicked dig their own grave or set their own trap, this portrait of hell still seems to feature the wicked as the sole instigators or active builders of their own eternal plight.
Now i agree that such is true in the sense that the wicked by their own lifelong choices have earned their ultimate fate. But the notion of God as a judge seems to require that He does something. Wright's picture of hell sounds a tad deistic to me--God just designed the world in such a way that bad actions in this life are akin to climbing down a pit step by step and eventually you reach the bottom (hell). God built it that way, wound up the clock, and now we're on our own. That's an interesting theory and could arguably be called a means by which God exercises justice. But it still seems to me incompatible with the thought of God as an ultimate judge who is returning for the purpose of putting everything right.
Passages like 2Thessalonians 1:6-9 suggest a far more active and instigative role for God in His dealings with the wicked. Hell, then, it seems to me, must consist in more than merely letting the wicked take the very last step off the ladder and reach the bottom of the pit. i think it must involve God actively serving out the just, retributive sentence on the wicked for their wickedness.
And i must also add, i think that means that such a state is an everlasting one. There's been plenty of contention in recent times over the duration of hell. i think if we put a temporal cap on hell at all, then we've conceded that there's hope and relief to be given to the wicked. Why be afraid of hell if it will eventually be over? Haven't you ever comforted yourself by thinking something similar to "this surgery will only last a couple hours, it'll all be over soon"? That same comfort and relief and something-to-look-forward-to type of hope belongs to the wicked too if we forfeit an everlasting hell. That to me doesn't seem all that "hellish."
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Appearance, Culture, Diversity, Unity, etc.
It drives me batty when i hear of church elderships establishing polity where those who serve up front have a minimum dress code (which typically can hardly be termed "minimum" at all). Everyone has to fit into the some bizarre standing cookie cutter appearance mold. Why? At preaching school, some people there wanted us to feel that facial hair was nearly evil. Why? Rewind a hundred years or more and many of their precious restorationists as well as the average respectable man in society wore a ton of facial hair on their face. Some people wanted us to think that long hair was nearly evil. Why? Rewind a couple hundred years and most of the "refined" men of society had long hair. Why is one set of cultural norms allowed to dominate? It seems to come from different places--WWII defined what a "real man" was supposed to look like for so many. The 50's and the "nuclear family" idea contributed to an image as well, i suspect. And now, for some reason, no other cultural norms are acceptable to many religious people.
Yet in the New Testament, the church was a melting pot of cultures. Did Corinthians have to start dressing like Jews? Did the Romans need to start dressing like the Jews? When Paul headed off to Spain, was he going to tell them to start looking like Jews? For all i know, the Jews didn't even all look alike since they had spent several generations spread vastly over Europe, Africa, and Asia.
America is a melting pot as well. Not just of world cultures, but of cultures and subcultures. There are regional differences in appearance. There are age differences in culture and appearance. Why are people blamed for this and expected to become WWII-generationized as though such is synonymous with becoming Christianized? i just don't see that the Bible teaches any such thing. i don't see why the man of the WWII generation needs to give up his tie and slacks anymore than the college student from the Northwest needs to give up his scruffy beard and t-shirt anymore than the rural poor farmer needs to give up his overalls anymore than the surburban high school kid needs to give up his black hair and baggy clothes anymore than the middle eastern man needs to give up his gown and sandals.
i think some people are just going to have to get over the fact that the adolescent Christian who would love to serve up front by leading a prayer or passing the communion trays--they're just going to have to get over that he's got jet black hair, or a piercing in his eyebrow, or that the urban youth has baggy pants and an afro, or than the hispanic wears a cowboy hat. So what? If you get any of them to change their appearance just because you don't like it, then either you teach them that practicing Christianity is about a facade and a costume and then they'll practice Christianity that way in that congregation the rest of their lives, or else you just won't ever win them and they'll leave because they know they're not really accepted. I mean, do you really expect any of those three people to look like you when they aren't a member of the same culture or generation as you?
Does it burn you that any of those people look different than you? Well who made your cultural norms any more acceptable to God than those people's? Eventually people will just have to get over that even on the issue of appearance, "you don't have to be my twin brother, to be my brother."
Yet in the New Testament, the church was a melting pot of cultures. Did Corinthians have to start dressing like Jews? Did the Romans need to start dressing like the Jews? When Paul headed off to Spain, was he going to tell them to start looking like Jews? For all i know, the Jews didn't even all look alike since they had spent several generations spread vastly over Europe, Africa, and Asia.
America is a melting pot as well. Not just of world cultures, but of cultures and subcultures. There are regional differences in appearance. There are age differences in culture and appearance. Why are people blamed for this and expected to become WWII-generationized as though such is synonymous with becoming Christianized? i just don't see that the Bible teaches any such thing. i don't see why the man of the WWII generation needs to give up his tie and slacks anymore than the college student from the Northwest needs to give up his scruffy beard and t-shirt anymore than the rural poor farmer needs to give up his overalls anymore than the surburban high school kid needs to give up his black hair and baggy clothes anymore than the middle eastern man needs to give up his gown and sandals.
i think some people are just going to have to get over the fact that the adolescent Christian who would love to serve up front by leading a prayer or passing the communion trays--they're just going to have to get over that he's got jet black hair, or a piercing in his eyebrow, or that the urban youth has baggy pants and an afro, or than the hispanic wears a cowboy hat. So what? If you get any of them to change their appearance just because you don't like it, then either you teach them that practicing Christianity is about a facade and a costume and then they'll practice Christianity that way in that congregation the rest of their lives, or else you just won't ever win them and they'll leave because they know they're not really accepted. I mean, do you really expect any of those three people to look like you when they aren't a member of the same culture or generation as you?
Does it burn you that any of those people look different than you? Well who made your cultural norms any more acceptable to God than those people's? Eventually people will just have to get over that even on the issue of appearance, "you don't have to be my twin brother, to be my brother."
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