A bit of Dutch clarity

Herman Bavinck, the Dutchman whose works are just being translated into English, gives a strong account of the clarity of scripture as a Protestant sine qua non:

'The teaching of the perspicuity of Scripture is one of the strongest bulwarks of the Reformation'.

It was true in the 16th century; it is true now. As Bavinck reads the history of theology, the clarity of scripture was upheld from the earliest times and even as late as Gregory 1 and beyond. In fact, it is not until the 12th century that the obscurity of scripture becomes a teaching of Rome. Of course, the corollory of scripture's obscurity is an infallible magisterium, who alone can interpret. Which, in effect, means that authority as both norm and judge belongs to the hierarchy of the church alone.

It is funny how contemporary this problem is. Intepretation is a necessary activity of course; but interpretational activity can be carried out with ceding all the authority to the interpreter. However, as in Rome, so in modern liberal Prostantism (which is like Rome without all the good bits): it is just that the interpreter in whom authority is thought to reside is an individual not a church hierarchy...

Individual readers and churches do have responsibility to judge what they read, says Bavinck; but neither the conscience nor the magisterium are infallible. They are not the highest court... They may err. Indeed, do!

Four lessons from Anthony Giddens for preachers

Giddens has a good deal to say about the late-modern soul, though he mightn't call it that. I reckon awareness of this analysis might really help magnify the existential impact of a few sermons...

He identifies four 'tribulations of the self':

1. Unification versus fragmentation By this he means that constructing our identity involes a myriad of contexts and experiences, though which a coherent course must be chartered.

2. Powerlessness versus appropriation We live in a culture surrounded by opportunities and options made available to us by modernity and its technologies. But this also has the effect of generating feelings of powerlessness, even amongst people who are wealthy and educated. It's the system...what can we do about it?

3. Authority versus uncertainty Giddens points out that late modern people experience a radical mistrust of all authorities such that none are final. As a self, therefore, we must steer a way between commitment (possibly without full trust) and uncertainty.

4. Personalised versus commodified experience You have to tell your own story or construct your own self-identity in the midst of circumstances in which the economy of consumption standardises everything. So, because of this one-size-fits-most experience we have in the marketplace, we must find other ways to individualise ourselves...

Lindbeck's The Nature of Doctrine

I have been slowly making my way through George Lindbeck's landmark book The Nature of Doctrine. In short, he argues that Christian doctrines are in fact regulative rather than propositional: that is, they are not chiefly first-order propositions with ontological reference but rather second-order rules of speech. They are agreements to speak in a certain way. They are paradigms for thinking and talking, mostly. He says of the creeds:

Rule theory...allows (though it does not require) giving these creeds the status that the major Christian traditions have attributed to them, but with the understanding that they are permanently authoritative paradigms, nor formulas to be slavishly repeated.

Fair enough.

It is striking that the beginning of his discussion is a concern to mediate between different types of Christian theologies. He begins in the ecumenical setting - so his whole purpose is to find a way of classifying statements made in that setting. It is, it seems to me, a Study of Religions kind of work. So I am puzzled about its influence on theological work, somewhat. He has relativised the doctrinal differences between Christian traditions...because different statements might fit authentically within different traditions and not others...

I blame you and I forgive you

'To forgive is to blame, not to punish'.

I don't know if Byron has already commented on this thought from Volf's book Free of Charge, but it struck me afresh this morning. Forgiveness is actually an act of judgement rather than a lack of judgement.

As Volf goes on, he sees judicial punishment as now shorn of its retributive force (this sounds like Girard) because Christ is the end of retribution. He heralds a new way of blaming: forgiveness, which may of course be coupled with discipline and so one, but not retribution.

As Volf goes on:

Standing as I do in the tradition of Martin Luther, I think Christ took all the punishment upon himself. None of it can be justly doled out to anyone anymore. Expiation on the part of an offender replaces forgiveness and removes the reason for it. It cannot supplement forgiveness. The heart of forgiveness is relinquinshing retribution... . p. 171

Six theses on Temptation and Providence

My task is here to draw together some of the themes of our discussion of temptation and providence, as they related to martyrdom as the pattern of the Christian life. We have proceeded by establishing that temptation – or more rightly, peirasmos, which includes temptation and also trial– is genuinely a part of the narrative logic of martyrdom. But what does this observation itself in turn reveal?

1. Peirasmos as temptation is a given of human existence: it is Adamic. It is a feature of the primal human story; and also part of the redeemer’s experience in identifying with hapless human beings. Human identity is not ever constructed aside from this inner battle with sarx and diaboloj. We do not know of a time when human subjects did not have to face these opponents.

2. Peirasmos is a test of the free human response and obedience to the divine call. As such, it tests our awareness of our own identity as his creatures – our recognition of our maker’s voice and our responsiveness to him. It describes not the moment of that call, but our memory of the call at the moment when it appears to be gainsaid in our experience: ‘did God really say…?’ The trial or temptation comes to us as a contradiction of the Word of God: it came as temptation in the garden, and in the post-lapsarian era has been intensified through the unyielding nature of the world itself.

3. The peirasmos threatens the individual with her own disintegration as a person. It leads to the captivity of the self to the world of sin, the flesh and the devil (to use New Testament language). The biblical history is a history of the human subject’s utter capriciousness; of the human individual’s unwilling inability to be truly herself, even to herself. That is to say, trial and temptation throw into question – a question not readily answered – what the ingredients of an authentic human life might be. For Gregersen, under the pressure of trial and temptation ‘both the objective arena of the world and the subjective arena of the self are seen as unreliable. Only God is reliable.’ We see something of this disintegrating human subjectivity under the power of sin famously expressed by Paul in Romans 7:7-24: ‘O wretched man that I am!...’

4. It was necessary for Jesus Christ to undergo peirasmos to demonstrate his total solidarity with humankind and to defeat the evil one. The trials and temptations of Jesus in the wilderness and in Gethsemane are shown so that it might be known that there was one who passed through the peirasmo,j known to us all and emerged victorious over Satan. These episodes reveal not only Satan’s impotence against the Son of god, but also the fittingness of Christ to become High Priest and sacrifice. The cross of Christ itself is the sign of his ultimate defeat. (This is a theme in Pauline theology: ‘He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.’ Col 2:15 )


5. In answer to the peirasmos of human experience, Christ re-invites trust in the providence of a covenanting God – whose providential care of the world is revealed most completely in him. We learn much from the manner of his victory: he reaches down into the Word of God and rests on it; he submits his will to God as he prays, for the good of others. Further, he himself carries out the divine providential action in his death and resurrection, by these actions enabling the world ‘to become itself by action within, and over against, its fallen structures’.This is inclusive of human beings; who rightly respond when they cry out to the Lord for deliverance.I have in mind in particular Romans 8:19ff, where the redemption-action of Christ has its effect in terms of the adoption of human beings into the family of God and also the future liberation of the creation itself, which elicits much groaning under the present conditions of trial. The Lord’s prayer – the prayer taught by the Son of God to his disciples – gives voice to this felt disparity in human experience.

6. Christ’s disciples are thrust anew into an experience of peirasmos: the weakness of the flesh, the hostility of the world, and the attacks of the Evil One. As they seek to imitate Christ, peirasmos naturally features as part of that mimetic action; as it was part of the narrative logic of his life, so it is now of theirs. Satan renews his efforts against those whose determination is to defy him; though it is not by their strength in this battle that he is defeated. The victory belongs already to God himself. The peirasmos may result in bloody martyrdom: as such it is entirely unsurprising, because it is the outworking of battle already fought.

BB Warfield by Ben Myers

Ben has an intriguing set of propositions to offer about BB Warfield, a much-maligned figure in American evangelical theology.

Standing in the tradition of the Reformation?

I have raised in an earlier post the tension I see and personally experience between on the one hand seeking to give an account of the Scriptural revelation and the adherence as a Protestant and confessional theologian to the doctrines of that period.

In Barth's exposition of the doctrine of election, he has to tangle with the fact that as a Reformed theologian he is going to offer a serious departure from Calvin's teaching, and from the teaching of those that followed him: yet, he wants to stand in the Reformed tradition. He makes as a result several quite salutary points about his theological method.

First, the doctrine is not adequately grounded if it merely traditional to Calvinism:
...we shall be doing Calvin the most fitting honour if we go the way that he went and start where he started. And according to his most earnest protestations, he did not start with himself, nor with his system, but with Holy Scripture as interpreted in his system. (II.ii.36)

Second, it is not the pastoral usefulness of the doctrine that is its foundation or its basis. That predestination is a comfortable doctrine of assurance may be true, but it is not sufficient to assert it.

Third, neither is the datum of experience a worthy candidate. In this Barth is particularly critical of Calvin (fairly?) for introducing his observations of people in his ministry as they accept and reject the gospel in his description of the doctrine.

Fourth, the doctrine of election must not begin with the abstract God of the omnipotent Will, with God as a concept of philosophy, in other words. As he puts it:

If we allow God's self-revelation and the testimony of Scripture to prescribe our concept, then the Subject of election, the electing God, is not at all the absolute World-ruler as such and in general. (II.ii.49)

So: an authentic reception of the Reformation is to listen afresh and anew to the Scriptures, come what may...

Girard and distinctives

Rene Girard, whose book Violence and the Sacred I have been reading with a group that meets over warm beer, claims that it is not differentiation between people but its end that causes violence and upheaval. Loss of distinctiveness is disastrous. At least, that is how the Greek tragedians saw things.

He says: 'Order, peace, and fecundity depend on cultural distinctions; it is not these distinctions but the loss of them that gives birth to fierce rivalries and sets members of the same family or social group at one another's throats.' p. 52

This is emphasised by the presence in mythology and in classical literature (and biblical literature) of the phenomenon of warring brothers, and especially twins. Think Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau: they are two similar to ever live in peace with one another.

Modern society's aspiration to equality among its citizens prevents us from perhaps getting how dangerous an idea it can be! As Shakespeare puts it in Troilus and Cressida:

How could communities,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
The primogenitive and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels
But by degree, stand in authentic place?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows!

Do we see this rationale also in Paul's description of the organic order of the Christian community in 1 Corinthians? Differences for him in that epistle are not the cause of disorder but in fact the fount of a unique kind of peace and order; an order that is both 'natural', and also 'spiritual'...

Hmm. (scratches non-existent beard.)

The clarity of scripture

It has long been the passion of my colleague Dr Mark D Thompson to defend the doctrine of the clarity of scripture.

I shoulda known it all along, but he is absolutely right, and timely.

In the name of 'hermeneutics' all sorts of crimes are being committed, frankly; and the trend even amongst Protestants is to exalt the clarity and authority of the church and its traditions over the scriptures (which are held to be dark, mysterious and indeterminate). Disagreement is taken as evidence that there is no clarity to be had.

For his part, John Webster says 'very simply, the church alone is not competent to confer authority on Holy Scripture, any more than it is competent to be a speaking churc before it is a hearing church, or competent to give itself the mandate to be apostolic.'

Webster then brilliantly restates the clarity of scripture, reminding us that 'reading scripture is inescapably bound to regeneration'. If there is dispute, or lack of clarity, it lies in the unwillingness we have to submit to the scriptures. This is not a philosophical matter, so much as an ethical and spiritual one.

It is worth noting that the clarity of scripture is not a Reformation innovation. Irenaeus addressed the Gnostics with their fanciful interpretational practices by asserting the plain meaning of the text of scripture. This doctrine has a very long tradition indeed.

BTW, Webster offers a convincing critique of JAK Smith's defence of hermeneutics, too!

Hart again

I added this paragraph to my 'power of scripture' essay (parts of which I have already posted here and here and here and here. Oh, and here ...)


"My argument in certain respects resembles that of David Bentley Hart in his monumental The Beauty of the Infinite. Hart mounts a defence of the ‘beauty to whose persuasive power the Christian rhetoric of evangelism appeals’ (p.1) against the same charge from contemporary philosophy that concerns us here: that this Christian rhetoric of peace is in fact inescapably violent. As Hart writes: ‘Christ is a persuasion, a form of evoking desire, and the whole force of the gospel depends upon the assumption that this persuasion is also peace: that the desire awakened by the shape of Christ and his church is one truly reborn as agape, rather than merely the way in which a lesser force succumbs to a great, as an episode in the endless epic of power’ (p. 3). This is our question too: though where Hart more generally speaks of the Christian evangel and the life of the church (which looms large for him as an Eastern Orthodox theologian) our focus is the Scriptures as the source and guarantor of Christian rhetoric. If the scriptures are merely an iron fist, even if placed in a velvet glove, then the Nietzchean/postmodern charge is sustained..."

[note please: self-quotation is definitely allowed within the rules!]

You and Gender

Over at my YOU project I have been sketching my way towards a chapter on gender. Love to have your input.

the great disintegration
help
fit
a gentle ribbing
shameless
of frogs and snails
'this is my lover...'

Calvin on leaving a church

No doubt in Calvin's time they didn't have the phenomena of church-hopping. However, lest we think he has a merely functional view of the visible church, he says:

...However it may be, where the preaching of the gospel is reverently heard and the sacraments are not neglected there for the time being no deceitful or ambiguous form of the church is seen; and no one is permitted to spurn its authority, flout its warnings, resist its counsels, or make light of its chastisements - much less to desert it and break its unity. For the Lord esteems the communion of his church so highly that he counts as a traitor and apostate from Christianity anyone who arrogantly leaves any Christian society, provided it cherishes the true ministry of Word and sacraments. He so esteems the authority of the church that when it is violated he believes his own diminished. (Institutes IV.1.10)

Arrogantly is the key adverb (ok I admit it, I wrote adjective the first time!), isn't it?

Is Calvin guilty of individualism?

I have begun attending a Systematic Theology Reading Group at the university chaired by Dr Philip Endean SJ on Calvin's Ecclesiology. Fascinating to dialogue with a Rahner scholar about Calvin! The accusation against Calvin was aired last week that he was an individualist: on the basis that his ecclesiology is the end of his system rather than the beginning of it, and that he calls the church the 'external means or aims by which God invites us into the society of Christ and holds us therein'.

I think this accusation misses a crucial distinction in Calvin's thought between the visible and the invisible Church. The visible church granted he treats as a means to an end, and it does not loom large in his system. The emphasis on inward faith rather than outward formal church attendance or membership or ritual does lead to an emphasis on the individual believer. However, the people of God united with Christ most certainly do feature in Calvin. Calvin's believer is by faith called into membership of the invisible and eschatological family of God in Christ Jesus. The true church itself belongs to the realm of faith: 'just as we must believe therefore that the former church is invisible to us [ie, the heavenly church] is visible to the eyes of God alone, so we are commanded to revere and keep communion with the latter [ie the visible earthly church], which is called 'church' in respect to men'...

The visible church, though, has still a role: Calvin is not docetic about this. The visible church is aptly entitled 'mother'. He says: '...there is no othr way to enter into life unless this mother conceive us in her womb, give us birth, nourish us at her breats, and lastly unless she keep us under her care and guidance until, putting off mortal flesh, we become like the angels...Our weakness does not allow us to be dismissed from he school until we have been pupils all our lives.'

The squares of course with the utter seriousness with which Calvin took the business - the discipline and ceremonies and government and teaching - of the earthly church.

The words of Jesus - in red

As Prophet, Priest and King, Jesus Christ exercised the authority of God on earth.It is of course from this enfleshed Word that we learn not about what God is capable of doing but what he wills to do and does do.

First, the life of Jesus was marked of course by dynamic activity – a virgin birth, and many miracles and healings. Yet, though his ministry had the character of a challenge he refrained from taking up arms against the rulers of the world. His consummate ‘act’ was becoming subject to the power of those who killed him.

Secondly, he spoke, powerful, life-giving words – ‘Talitha koumi’; ‘Lazurus, come out!’; ‘Peace! Be still!’ – and yet also spent his days in patiently teaching his disciples from the Scriptures about the cross-shaped pattern of their discipleship.

Thirdly, he also demonstrated in his life and death the utter covenant faithfulness of God; he was the proof that God had remembered his people, and that their consolation was near – as the aged Simeon and Anna recognized when they met the child Jesus at the Temple. In this cruciform way Christ was indeed ‘the power of God and the wisdom of God’ (1 Cor 1:24).

David Bentley Hart and Postmodernity

Sorry, Byron: I couldn't wait, and I have to confess to having dipped into The Beauty of the Infinite. It is one of those books with strong opinions - which have their own allure. His shredding of Tillich - whose theology is, in my opinion, best seen as a curious mid-century cul-de-sac - had me cheering in the stands.

Hart, like many theologians I like, is not unsympathetic to postmodernity; or rather, he sees postmodernity as moment of some opportunity for theology - 'an auroral astonishment following upon a nocturnal oblivion' (p. 5) at the moment when we discover that Enlightenment reason's attempt at universalising has failed. Having said that, he has a real go at the postmoderns too, bless him, for not being postmodern enough.

Here he finds a point of convergence:

'...if indeed God became a man, then Truth condescended to become a truth, from whose historical contigency one cannot simply pass to categories of universal rationality; and this means that whatever Christians mean when they speak of truth, it cannot involve simply the dialectical wresting of abstract principles from intractable facts..' (p.5)

Some aphorisms about blogging

I have been blogging for a while now, and I feel quite the seasoned blogger. What have I learnt? Here are, I believe, some of the deep truths of blogging:

1. Typing out a quote without commenting doesn't count as blogging: it is just typing. [You know who you are...;-) ]

2. Writing an inflammatory blog in order to get a bit of discussion going can backfire, because people will think you are a grumpy person in general.

3. The state of one's blog is likely to be similar to the state of one's desk. Well, mine is...

4. The ideal blog entry is 200-350 words. Ask me to scroll down? You gotta be kidding.

5. In the blogosphere, the one principle that is a constant is vanity.

6. Lists work really well on blogs. So do series. I can't really do either.

7. It is possible to be really really obsessed about blogging.

8. The kids don't blog: blogging is a middle-aged (ie, over 21) thing. The kids do facebook and myspace, where they can post lots of pictures of themselves at drunken parties and type swears.

9. Sometimes it is sooo much easier to blog than it is to write a thesis; so much easier that I can end writer's block by tricking myself into blogging what I want to write. Copy-paste-done!

Martyr Stephen and the beauty of baby Moses

Why did matter that Moses was such a beautiful baby? In Acts 7:20 we read:

"At this time Moses was born; and he was beautiful in God's sight." (the wooden-ultra-conservative ESV)

or

"At that time Moses was born, and he was no ordinary child." (the taking-liberties-fluffy NIV)

or

"At this time Moses was born, and he was beautiful before God." (done-by-pack-of-liberal feminists NRSV)

The Greek word can mean 'handsome' or 'well-bred'. He is probably picking up Ex 2:2 which mentions that Moses was a 'fine child'.

But: an odd thing to pass on?

The Lord's Prayer

The disciple of Jesus has to refrain from worry, and pursue as a priority the kingdom of God. In other words, as Bonhoeffer puts it:

The Christian lives from the times of God, and not from his own idea of life.

This was the lesson of Abraham too. And it is the same attitude that Jesus himself taught his disciples, in the Lord’s Prayer. The prayer itself is an articulation of a subjectivity experienced in media res but also in the hope of eschatological deliverance. It is distinguished from the verbose Gentile prayers who try to demand divine notice by sheer volume of words (6:7). This prayer is a very different kind of speech-act. First, it addresses the one in heaven (6:9); which is to say, it addresses the ruler of all things as he sits on his throne. This is a prayer from one who has a limited view of things to a being who has a superior vantage point indeed. It is a prayer to a known rather than to an unknown divinity, it should be noted: this prayer proceeds on the basis of the prior revelation of God’s identity, on the basis of promises he has already spoken. He is can be addressed by his name because he is known. Second, the primary request of the prayer is that the Father would hallow his own name, and carry out his will ‘as in heaven also on earth’ ( 6:10). Clearly the (earthly) perspective of the prayer is one which observes that the divine will is not yet fulfilled, and the divine name not yet hallowed. The experience of the pray-er is that of not being able to see that God’s rule is everywhere enforced; but yet, there is a drilling down into the character of God as he has revealed himself that can only be named ‘faith’.

Rowan Williams on the early martyrs

'The martyr stories often try...to make this holy power somehow visible or tangible: swords are blunted, animals are cowed, executioners bungle their work, there is an effusion of blood that quenches the fire (as in Polycarp's case); the divine presence does not rescue the martyr but makes itself felt. Legendary as this may be, it simply underlines what is thought to be happening. The relating of the stories of the martrs in this early literature, up to the mid third century, is an essential part of the Church's self-identification, part of the definition of the vocabulary of being an ekklesia of aliens, the citizens' assembly of the non-citizens, a people whose political legitimacy and loyalty lay outside the imperial system.' Why Study the Past? p. 36

I was just caught by his use of identity here, and in the collective sense. For the early church, this identification was as he says essential... On p.111 he comments that martyrdom was the way in which testimony was given to the fact that our lives are not our own to submit to some tyranny.

Ricoeur recurrs

We had quite a deal of fun chewing over a Paul Ricoeur quote about history and fiction.

In his article he argues that the history and fiction intersect in the way they refer to the 'real' world.

Our ultimate interest when we do history is to enlarge our sphere of communication: that is, to encounter that which is different to us. But this requires an imaginative act, which is, to suspend your own conditions and desires and assumptions, in order to be communicated to.

'My contention...is that it is in this exchange between history and fiction and between their opposite referential claims that our historicity is brough to language.'