Postconservatism: Defining the Label, Evaluating the Movement (Pt. 1 of 2)

I recently read Roger Olson‘s book Reformed and Always Reforming: The Postconservative Approach to Evangelical Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), mostly because I wanted to hear how someone else was describing postconservative theology.  For a while I’ve had an interest in exploring the outskirts of evangelical theology, and postconservatism is one of the movements with which I feel some level of identification.  Olson identifies six characteristics of postconservative evangelical theology in his first chapter:

“First, postconservatives, like conservatives, presuppose revelation, but they consider its main purpose to be transformation more than information” (53).

Similarly, Olson discusses a focus on the Bible as narrative over propositions.  I appreciated the narrative vs. propositions emphasis more than the transformation vs. information emphasis.  Olson discussed Vanhoozer’s “dramatic approach” to revelation, which is based on speech act theory but otherwise doesn’t sound entirely dissimilar from Wright’s “a troupe of Shakespearean actors making up the fifth act to a long-lost play of Shakespeare’s of which we have only recovered the first four acts” idea.  I’m sure there are important distinctions, but not having read Vanhoozer, I don’t yet know what I’m missing.  Anyway, I agree with the idea that the Bible can’t be treated as a systematic theology textbook.  But I’m not certain I like the “transformation” vs. “information” distinction.  Isn’t information (about God, about God’s work, about ourselves, etc.) what transforms us?  If we didn’t know who Jesus is, how could we be transformed?  I worry about a focus on experience that neglects the intellect, and I’m not certain postconservative theology must prefer experience in this manner.

“A second common characteristic of the postconservative style of evangelical theology is a certain vision of what theology is all about.  For postconservatives theology is a pilgrimage and a journey rather than a discovery and a conquest.  Also, for them the constructive task of theology is always open; there are no closed, once and for all systems of theology” (55).

I agree in large part with this point.  Postconservatives exist only because they have been willing to venture beyond the bounds of conservative evangelical theology, questioning what has not previously been questioned.  I am not certain, however, if this is a characteristic of postconservative theology as much as a characteristic of the individual theologians who have moved in postconservative directions.  I think postconservatives have been willing to change their minds in order to preserve academic integrity and avoid cognitive dissonance more than they have specifically been seeking to move new theological places.  And once they arrive in certain new theological places, they are often unwilling to leave.  For example, how many postconservatives who have abandoned inerrancy would be willing to reconsider that issue?  How many people who have ceased to believe in a historical Adam will one day decide Genesis 1-11 should be taken literally after all?  Postconservatives may be willing to explore new theological possibilities, but they also form new commitments along the way.

“A third characteristic of postconservative theological work is a discomfort and dissatisfaction with the reliance of conservative evangelical theology on Enlightenment and modern modes of thought” (57).

I think this is a very important part of what it means to be postconservative.  Olson talks a great deal about postfoundationalism, critical realism, McIntyre, etc.  It was practically like sitting in on Nancey Murphy’s class again (fond memories!).  It is being postfoundationalist which allows postconservative theology to cease committing bibliolatry, using presupppositional apologetics, etc.

“A fourth common characteristic of the style of evangelical theology called postconservative is its vision of evangelicalism itself…  Postconservatives view evangelicalism as a centered set category rather than a set having boundaries” (59).

I  think this is simply necessary for anyone who wants to continue using the evangelical label after becoming postconservative.  If evangelicalism has rigid boundaries or if the Evangelical Theological Society determines who is in and out, then most postconservatives can no longer be called evangelical.  But if evangelicalism is a centered set with fuzzy boundaries, then people can continue to use the evangelical label (because they want to change its connotations or because they feel it’s important to honor their roots or whatever reason might apply) even as they move past what some more narrow-minded folks might call “evangelicalism.”  Considering evangelicalism a centered set is legitimate—and maybe even best—but it is admittedly self-serving for postconservatives who still want to think of themselves as evangelical.

“A fifth common feature of postconservative evangelical theology is a tendency to view the enduring essence of Christianity, and therefore the core identity of evangelical faith, as spiritual experience rather than as doctrinal belief” (61).

This is the idea of Olson’s about which I am most skeptical.  Isn’t the point of theology to define what we believe?  I would say spiritual experience is important to consider someone’s faith genuine, but an experience with God is not automatically Christianity.  Similarly, Christianity cannot be Christianity without some theological basis.  I would prioritize theology but say that theology truly internalized produces fruit in terms of experience and action.

As for “the core of evangelical faith,” it doesn’t even make sense for this to be defined as “spiritual experience” because this—at least without clarification as to the kind of spiritual experience—seems to say that being evangelical and a “real” Christian are synonymous, which is preposterous.  It seems here that Olson’s definitions of evangelicalism are rather messy.  Yes, maybe evangelicalism should be a centered set, but there is a point at which some Christians are not close enough to that center to be called evangelicals.  It doesn’t mean they haven’t had any spiritual experiences or that they’re not real Christians, but they don’t deserve the evangelical label for either theological or sociological reasons.

“A sixth common feature of postconservative evangelical theology is a tendency to hold relatively lightly to tradition while respecting the Great Tradition of Christian belief” (63).

In some ways this is merely another way of stating that nothing is set in stone and that postconservatives are willing to change their minds about things.  I worry a bit about a deemphasis of tradition and wonder if there must be firm lines between paleo-orthodoxy and postconservativism as Olson implies.  Unfortunately, I think a more thorough exploration of postconservative and paleo-orthodox evangelical theologians is necessary before I can answer that question.

Want to continue reading?  Go on to Pt. 2!

 

Sure, I’ll be a theological snob, if that’s what they’re calling it these days…

Christianity Today recently posted an editorial called “The Evangelical Jesus Prayer,” which I had trouble understanding beginning as early as the subtitle: “It’s not perfect, but the Sinner’s Prayer is a work of genius.”  Unfortunately, this editorial is not or else they wouldn’t be saying that.

Let’s start with the first problem:  We cannot compare the evangelical “Sinner’s Prayer” to the Eastern Orthodox Jesus Prayer without gravely insulting the Orthodox.  Eastern Christians love to make their worship beautiful, and compared with the Jesus Prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”), the Sinner’s Prayer is like your awkward pimple-faced cousin.  I’m sorry Eastern brothers and sisters—your prayer is nothing like ours, and for that you should rejoice.  The editorial also calls the Sinner’s Prayer “as brilliant as the simple formulations of Martin Luther (Sola fide!  Sola Scriptura!).”  We have now insulted Lutherans in addition to the Orthodox.  We’re making lots of friends today.

What is so mediocre about the Sinner’s Prayer?  Ironically, it is the only scripted prayer evangelicals like.  Yes, there are different “versions,” but it is still scripted in the sense that traditionally evangelistic literature has included a printed prayer rather than letting anyone invent their own.  Similarly, evangelistic preachers often lead audiences in their version of the Sinner’s Prayer, as if the poor sinners could not find the words to approach God themselves.  I generally have no problem with pre-written prayers.  I like our church’s prayers of confession which come from various liturgical resources and are printed in the bulletin.  I like the Book of Common Prayer.  Jesus taught us how to pray, and we repeat him word for word.  All of that is great.  But that’s because they’re not clunky and thoughtless.  Rather than elegantly simple, the Sinner’s Prayer is insultingly simplistic and devoid of pleasing aesthetics.  Let’s go extemporaneous, people, or let’s allow someone with a theological education—or at least an English degree—write our prayers.  Or a sweet child for goodness sakes. But not some tasteless descendent of Charles Finney.

The editorial makes the point that the Sinner’s Prayer can be said over and over like the Jesus Prayer.  No, it can’t.  It’s too long to be much use to contemplative prayer.  Additionally, this is a pathetic response to the complaint that many people say it over and over.  They are not saying it over and over because they have any idea how Eastern Christians use the Jesus Prayer; they are saying it over and over because they have never left Finney’s anxious bench.

The editorial also proclaims that the Sinner’s Prayer “summarizes the gospel that so many desperately long for” because “[m]ost people live with all manner of personal crises, the greatest being an abiding guilt and shame.”  First of all, whoever wrote this is out of touch with reality.  The average person on the street will not call guilt and shame their #1 foe.  This might be true if they were raised fundamentalist, raised Catholic, or responsible for killing someone in a drunk driving accident.  And even then, only might.  This guilt-focused formulation of the gospel may or may not be of optimal theological quality, but it certainly isn’t addressing the felt needs of people today.  If it were, we wouldn’t see people devising new ways of trying to explain Christianity to others like we see in James Choung’s True Story.

And it ends up it’s not of optimal theological quality either.  It’s ridiculous to encourage an expectation of a single moment of conversion for all Christians when the majority of people raised in the church have not experienced conversion that way.  Furthermore, the Sinner’s Prayer prizes penal substitutionary atonement as the one-and-only—or at least the best—model we have for understanding Christ’s work on the cross.  It might be a model worth keeping around, but it almost certainly isn’t the best.

All in all, not a work of genius.  Not necessarily ethical to press upon people.  Not necessarily useful to even those who embrace it.  Not necessarily world-ruining either, and certainly a part of the conversion stories of many faithful Christians.  But I give it a C-.  ”There may be good reasons to reform or replace the Sinner’s Prayer in evangelical ‘liturgical life,’” the editorial opines. “But we have to do better than theological snobbery or spiritual self-righteousness.”  No, I don’t think we do.  I’ll happily be a theological snob on this one, CT.  If you think that’s wrong of me, I guess I could use endless repetitions of the Sinner’s Prayer to absolve myself, except I think that might have the opposite of the desired effect on poor Jesus’s ears…

Spiritual Influences on the Sexual, Sexual Influences on the Spiritual (Sexuality & Spirituality, Pt. 4 of 4)

The following is adapted from a short essay written for a course on Gender & Sexuality at Fuller’s School of Psychology, responding to the prompt, “Some say that spirituality and sexuality are ‘two sides of the same coin.’  Discuss.”  You may first want to read pt. 1pt. 2., and pt. 3.

With that said, there are obvious connections between the spiritual and the sexual.  As we understand our bodies and our relational capacity, we can be thankful to God and rejoice in the goodness of God’s creation.  In contrast, our inappropriate sexual hang-ups keep us from enjoying God’s gifts. We also recognize that living under God’s reign does preclude us from certain sexual activities because we believe sex is intended for certain relational contexts.  When our sexual selves are not in alignment with God’s kingdom values—be it through selfishness and exploitation, sexism, cut-off from our own emotions, avoidance of healthy commitment, or even denial of our sexual selves entirely—we sin, damaging ourselves and our relationships.

These connections between the spiritual and the sexual, however, do not make all of our spiritual lives mystically sexual or even all of our human relationships and quests for intimacy sexual in any sense beyond the mere fact of our inevitably possessing sex and gender.  Similarly, sexuality and spirituality are not merely a semantic alternative to a dualism of body and spirit, seeing as embodiment encompasses more than the sexual and this dualism deserves our skepticism to begin with.  A better answer to the question of how we understand sexuality and spirituality comes from an essay by William May (2007) on the various extremes of such thought.  “Biblical realism requires us to acknowledge three ways of abusing sex,” he says—“to malign it with the dualists, to underestimate it with the casualists, but also to overestimate it with the sentimentalists and therefore to get angry, frustrated, and retaliatory when it fails to transcend the merely human” (p. 194).  Instead, he hopes that “[o]nce we free our relationships to others from the impossible pressure to rescue us or redeem us, perhaps we can be free to enjoy them for what they are.  Specifically, we can enjoy without shame and with delight a sexual relationship for the pleasurable, companionable, and fertile human good that it is” (p. 195).  Only when sexuality is not the opposite of the spiritual as in Platonic dualism nor the equivalence of spirituality can sexuality be free to be what it truly is: a fabulous gift which, while connecting with the whole of our lives and beings, is not our whole lives or beings.  In such a framework, which neither takes sexuality too lightly nor too seriously (in either a negative or positive sense), we are at last free to relish sex as God intended.

References:

May, W. F.  (2007).  Four Mischievous Theories of Sex: Demonic, Divine, Casual, and Nuisance.  In K. Scott and Michael Warren (Ed.), Perspectives on Marriage: A Reader, 3rd ed.  (186-195).  New York: Oxford.

 

The Experience of Embodiment (Sexuality & Spirituality, Pt. 3 of 4)

The following is adapted from a short essay written for a course on Gender & Sexuality at Fuller’s School of Psychology, responding to the prompt, “Some say that spirituality and sexuality are ‘two sides of the same coin.’  Discuss.”  You may first want to read pt. 1 and pt. 2.

Grenz (1990) also considers sexuality to be basic to our experience of embodiment: “Our sexuality is a basic datum of our existence as individuals…  Through sexuality we give expression both to our existence as embodied creatures and to our basic incompleteness as embodied persons in our relationships to each other and to the world” (p. 8).  With this statement, I can agree in part.  Yes, as embodied creatures we have genital sex, which contributes heavily to various experiences of our personhood and social relationships, including our gender identity, gender role, and sexual orientation.  However, being embodied involves much more than the sexual.  Eating, sleeping, walking, and physical acts of service all involve our bodies in decidedly non-sexual ways.  Sexuality is an important aspect of embodiment, but it is not everything.  Our language should make this distinction.

Not only is it inappropriate to consider sexuality an appropriate stand-in for embodiment, it is equally inappropriate to see spirit and body, generally, as “two sides of the same coin.”  To do so merely continues a mind/spirit-body dualism, even though respectable Christian cases have been made for differing views of human personhood, such as nonreductive physicalism or the constitution view of persons (for example: Green and Palmer, 2005).  Seeing as I tend toward a more “constitution view,” I find insistence on sexuality and spirituality as two essential and corresponding parts of the human experience inadvertently creates a false dichotomy—even if we are looking towards how the two are really united.  Regardless of how connected one views spirituality and the body, this language presupposes a spirit and a body exist to begin with, an idea to which I do not subscribe.

If one is taking “spirituality” to mean anything relating to morality or to God, rather than that pertaining to a “spirit,” per se, I still object to this language, because then we are stating the obvious.  Of course our bodies are connected with spirituality, because God is putting everything under his good reign—what we do with our bodies always has to do with how we relate to God and his kingdom, because everything somehow relates to God and his kingdom.  “Two sides of the same coin,” however, becomes quite nonsensical under such a framework.  There are no “two sides,” to be experienced, only one ultimate reality of new creation, under which everything is subsumed.  Even more so, distinguishing the sexual apart from the rest of our embodied lives as somehow uniquely significant to this new creation seems arbitrary.

Want more?  Jump ahead to pt. 4.

References:

Grenz, S. J. (1990).  Sexual Ethics: A Biblical Perspective.  Dallas: Word.

Green, J. B. and Palmer, S. L.  (2005).  In Search of the Soul: Four Views of the Mind-Body Problem.  Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity.

The Drive for Transcendent Intimacy (Sexuality & Spirituality, Pt. 2 of 4)

The following is adapted from a short essay written for a course on Gender & Sexuality at Fuller’s School of Psychology, responding to the prompt, “Some say that spirituality and sexuality are ‘two sides of the same coin.’  Discuss.”  You may first want to read the first post in this series.

According to theologian Stanley Grenz (1990), “[E]ros ought not be limited to genital sexual acts, but encompasses a broad range of human actions and desires, and it participates even in the religious dimension of life in the form of the desire to know and be known by God” (p. 8).  Sexuality is thought to encompass a broader drive for intimacy which extends beyond sex to even decidedly non-sexual relationships, including our relationship with God.  In fact, one Catholic book on marriage and sexuality claims that history’s great Christian mystics “in trying to describe that intimacy [with God], fall back on the language of marital love, of sexual intimacy.  They are right to do so, and their language is not just a figure of speech.”  They go on to explain that, “[t]he love that Mother Theresa feels for the people she cares for, the exultation she experiences in prayer, are not just metaphorically but really sexual, really nuptial, even though genital sex is not her way of enacting her love”  (Gallagher, et al, 1995, p. 25).

With both of these statements I heartily disagree.  While experiencing closeness to others, including God, is a powerful experience, it is different in nature from a sexual experience.  The drive toward intimacy and transcendence, toward the “other,” can be best captured with this simpler, non-sexual language: we are relational beings.  Being relational leaves room for sexual relationships and yet does not force sexual language on our non-sexual relationships.  Our capacity for relationship with God and others is much larger than our capacity to be sexual, and hence to consider our spirituality and sexuality to be the same is short-sighted.  In regular conversation, we distinguish between relationships of a sexual nature and non-sexual nature for a reason; so also should we distinguish between our sexuality and our relationship with God.

Want more?  Jump ahead to pt. 3 and pt. 4.

References:

Grenz, S. J. (1990).  Sexual Ethics: A Biblical Perspective.  Dallas: Word.

Gallagher, C. A., Maloney, G. A., Rousseau, M. F., and Wilczak, P. F.  (1985).  Embodied in Love: Sacramental Spirituality and Sexual Intimacy­- A New Catholic Guide to Marriage.  New York: Crossroad.

 

Two Sides of a Coin? (Sexuality & Spirituality, Pt. 1 of 4)

The following is adapted from a short essay written for a course on Gender & Sexuality at Fuller’s School of Psychology, responding to the prompt, “Some say that spirituality and sexuality are ‘two sides of the same coin.’  Discuss.”

Sexuality and spirituality have long been thought opposites—the “higher” spiritual realm pitted against the “lower” physical realm throughout much of Christian history.  This historic asceticism, not too far from the Gnostic heresies of the early Church, has left many Christians alienated from their sexual selves in pursuit of the divine.  Tides have shifted, however, and today Christians seem particularly eager to acknowledge the significance of our existence as embodied, sexual beings.  Unfortunately, however, this new stream of Christian thought is not without confusion of its own, often leading to statements like “Sexuality and spirituality are different sides of the same coin.”  While this idea seems to have widespread appeal, it ultimately continues to discount the sexual as a legitimate realm in and of itself, apart from whatever “higher meanings” we try to apply as a topcoat.

Want more?  Jump ahead to pt. 2, pt. 3, and pt. 4.

“Christian” feminism

Rachel Held Evans recently wrote about becoming an “Accidental Feminist“—i.e., she found feminism through Christianity rather than finding secular feminism first and trying to integrate it with her Christianity.  While I’m not certain it was the point of Rachel’s post, I think her approach to this issue highlights an interesting phenomenon I’ve encountered several times over my first ten years as a feminist: Christian feminists’ emphasis on the Christian part of their feminism rather than the feminism part.  Obviously loyalty to God should come before loyalty to other groups or ideologies, but I still want to push back against this emphasis a bit.

In many ways, I think my journey towards identifying as a feminist was similar to Rachel’s: I experienced certain things in the church, I explored the biblical issues surrounding women’s ministry and gender roles in the home, and I only later began to read things written by non-Christian feminists.  However, I don’t feel the need to constantly clarify this fact or point out that I’m a “Christian feminist.”  I am a Christian.  And I am a feminist.  To call myself a Christian feminist makes it sound like I believe they don’t really go together or something and need to create all kinds of caveats around my use of the label “feminist.”  And to point out that I found feminism through Christianity makes it sound as if a different path would have somehow been “bad” or proven certain conservative nightmares about egalitarian evangelicals are true (“they really are just influenced by culture!”  etc.).

But I don’t think that’s the case.  One of the things I’ve always loved is seeing people who love justice first find Jesus second.  While Jesus may have introduced Rachel to feminism, I am even more thrilled to see feminism lead people to Jesus.  I think this is just as valid a journey as my own, and I don’t want to devalue it in any way.  While it might bother certain conservative Christians, I don’t think such stories should be hushed or treated as less than ideal in any way.  It may comfort people to think that ideas in the Bible led people to new ways of thinking about gender rather than such ideas about gender pre-existing someone’s reading the Bible.  However, if we really think all truth is God’s truth, it shouldn’t matter where or how someone learns to care about the issues God cares about.  If we believe God cares about women, then it’s fabulous for us to care about women, however we come to do so.

I also don’t think we should have to call ourselves Christian feminists, as if the only other sort of feminist is an evil feminist.  Feminism is incredibly diverse.  If you’re talking to someone who doesn’t understand that and seems to lump all feminists together under negative stereotypes, the answer is education, not labels that distance you from the rest of feminism.  During one summer in college, I was a part of a feminist book club with all sorts of feminists.  We had LGBT feminists, male feminists, very politically active feminists, artsy feminists, feminists who thought porn was freeing, feminists who thought porn was objectifying, etc.  And nobody assumed being a feminist meant you had to stand with them on every single issue because it was widely acknowledged that that diversity existed.  I don’t call myself a “Christian feminist,” as if I need a code for “good feminist” to differentiate me from the worst of feminism.  I simply call myself a feminist because it shouldn’t box me in any more than calling myself Christian should make you think I’m automatically a fundamentalist or a charismatic or a Catholic or a Presbyterian.

Additionally, I think it is counter-productive to talk about being feminist and Christian in a way that cuts ties with other feminists.  Many “Christian feminists” focus exclusively on issues relating to gender and Christianity and have little contact with feminists of other religious backgrounds or no religion at all.  I think this is a mistake.  Just as combatting poverty needs to be a group effort, challenging sexism needs to be a group effort.  Only when you are willing to work alongside others with similar concerns and goals will you really achieve your maximum potential.  And only when you’re willing to work with them can you become true friends with them, and only friendship with them can break down the walls between other feminists and the church (which have unfortunately been erected by other Christians).

The Aluminum Scroll 10 – Atheist Machine

Second Verse Same as the First

The other day I came across this loony video where a Muslim cleric accuses the Jews of mixing in human blood to make their matzos.

I was instantly reminded of the false accusations made against the early church by pagans who apparently misunderstood the nature of communion which they took to involve cannibalism (Thyestean feasts). Athenagoras in his Embassy for the Christians complains:

Three things are alleged against us: atheism, Thyestean feasts, Œdipodean intercourse. But if these charges are true, spare no class: proceed at once against our crimes; destroy us root and branch, with our wives and children, if any Christian is found to live like the brutes. And yet even the brutes do not touch the flesh of their own kind; and they pair by a law of nature, and only at the regular season, not from simple wantonness; they also recognise those from whom they receive benefits. If any one, therefore, is more savage than the brutes, what punishment that he can endure shall be deemed adequate to such offences? But, if these things are only idle tales and empty slanders, originating in the fact that virtue is opposed by its very nature to vice, and that contraries war against one another by a divine law (and you are yourselves witnesses that no such iniquities are committed by us, for you forbid informations to be laid against us), it remains for you to make inquiry concerning our life, our opinions, our loyalty and obedience to you and your house and government, and thus at length to grant to us the same rights (we ask nothing more) as to those who persecute us. For we shall then conquer them, unhesitatingly surrendering, as we now do, our very lives for the truth’s sake.

It is interesting to me that the feeble mind of hatred should produce such similar lies in such disparate times. It just goes to show you how powerful a tool cultural taboos can be in the process of “othering” your enemies.

Haiku: Blue and White

Arab red flows free
We will trust in David’s star
Now God will love us

© Jeremiah and Ashleigh Bailey 2012