The Dialogue Continues

For those who are interested another student has written an article in response to Dr. Stackhouse's critique of my article on Billy Graham. Here it is:
Upon reading Dr. Stackhouse’s response to Mr. Oudshoorn’s article on the Rev. Billy Graham, one thing stands out: Dr. Stackhouse’s criticism that the article lacked the sure foundation of serious scholarship was supported only by Dr. Stackhouse’s opinion. Consequently, in sorting out the merit of Mr. Oudshoorn’s theological and historical understanding of Rev. Graham’s legacy, we shall have to content in trading opinions. And while I am sure Dr. Stackhouse had good reason for not offering a scholarly rebuttal of his own (this was not the point of his article, there was not enough space to develop a thorough theological and historical treatment of Rev. Graham, etc.) his response begs a deeper question: why was he so inclined to write, and with no less zeal than Mr. Oudshoorn, a counter-point article in order to set the record straight?
I suspect Dr. Stackhouse’s ire was roused because of something other than Mr. Oudshoorn’s impressionistic journalism. Rather, it seems that Mr. Oudshoorn’s article has hit a nerve because of its subject, the Rev. Billy Graham. Rev. Graham, who has reached iconic status within the evangelical movement over the past half century, has come to represent much that we as Evangelicals see is good about Christianity. He is a man of deep character, he is the paragon of pastoral humility and compassion, he has given himself completely to God’s missional work in the world, and he has championed the value of each and every individual in the eyes of the Lord. Thus, when one questions Rev. Graham, one questions the very heart of our Evangelical self-identity. In this way, Rev. Graham is not simply a sacred cow, he is the sacred cow of modern Evangelicalism.
And this is why, his journalistic oversights aside, Mr. Oudshoorn is right to challenge the legacy of Rev. Graham. While I must concur with Dr. Stackhouse’s concern that Mr. Oudshoorn’s article may be laying the blame for the sandy foundations of the Evangelical church at the wrong door, and is further right to point out that Mr. Oudshoorn has selectively appropriated scripture in support of his argument, the point yet remains that if Rev. Graham represents much we appreciate about our Evangelical identity then he might very well also represent much that is wrong.
In this way Mr. Oudshoorn’s help in describing the relationship between Rev. Graham and the individualism that is washing away the Evangelical church is crucial if we are to recover a solid foundation. While it is true that those who come forward to accept “Jesus into their hearts” at one of Rev. Graham’s crusades are linked with and encouraged to become members of churches, it is also true that for Rev. Graham the church, at best, functions secondarily to the individual work of the Lord in a person’s life. Thus like those having come to know the Lord at a crusade, we as Evangelicals are left struggling to understand how the church should have any hermeneutical or soteriological claim on our lives.
To make the point, I want to suggest that the reason an article such as Mr. Oudshoorn’s has elicited a rejoinder from a Professor of Theology and Culture at Regent College is not simply because of the merit (or lack thereof) of his journalism, but rather because he has put his finger on the glaring lack of significant ecclesiology in the work of both Rev. Graham and evangelical institutions such as ours. Outside of a Systematic C course, there are few conversations taking place about recovering the significance of the church for our salvation here at Regent College. And for this reason we should commend Mr. Oudshoorn for drawing our attention to this embarrassing deficiency in our theology.
Of course we should also expect the kind of response that Mr. Oudshoorn has received; for where the primacy of the individual person reigns supreme, a reminder that within our orthodox tradition salvation is wrought through the church rather than through our individual encounters with God will often be met with harshly, especially when that reminder comes through a tearing-down of our most precious sacred cow.

The Importance of Worshipping a God I Disagree With

Over the summer I engaged in an ongoing dialogue about gay marriage with a New Testament scholar that I know in Toronto. I emailed him the post I wrote on July 28, 2005 entitled, “When Justice Conquers Holiness: Why I Support Gay Marriage.” Over the course of this debate I have decided to recant my position. The thing is, recanting is something I didn't want to do. I have a strongly negative emotional reaction to the idea of saying that homosexuals can't marry. The idea that God would not allow homosexuals to marry just doesn't make any sense to me. Yet that seems to be what the texts tell us. And so, as much as I kick and scream against it, I have decided to submit to another authority.
Over the course of this discussion I have realised how important it is to disagree with God if we are to be faithful to God. There are all sorts of tensions around the character of God as God is revealed in scripture and we should be careful not to resolve those tensions too easily. If I worship a God that I always agree with, a God that always makes sense to me, then I am in grave danger of worshipping a God created in my own image. If I am worshipping a God that is other than me, a God who possesses the qualities that Christians ascribe to God, then it is understandable that a finite creature like myself would sometimes not understand God, and sometimes strongly disagree with God as well. It is by submitting to a God that we do not always agree with that allows us to be made into God's image — instead of making God into our own images.
For those who are interested, I have included the email exchange that went on between my prof and I.
Prof:
I have read your recent meanderings and have a few questions about your
logic and a few of the holes in the logic. I have not read belo's book.
I have only been reading things that focus on the meaning of the text
and the thematic connections I have not focused on.
I marked your paragraphs by number from 1-10.
Paragraph 1 raises the justice tradition and the holiness tradition and
I am wondering if this is a correct assumption since much of what you
later say depends on this bifurcation, especially when in par 2 this
bifurcation has Jesus as the advocate for the one and his opponents as
the advocate for the other, putting the holiness tradition at a clear
disadvantage. A jew of Jesus' day would not have seen the argument and
discussion in such terms and divisions.
The move into par 3 that begins' It is for this reason..' left me
saying what is the connections between par 2 and 3 and it is not clear
to me the leap being made. never mind the leap in Brueggemann's logic
as you persent in par. 3
Par. 4 is bizarre. The holiness tradition is rooted in an urge for
order… Is this God's view? He raises the question of holiness
because it was humanity's role and Israel's vocation to be 'holy'
because God is holy and that the unredeemed world needed to be
presented with the image of God reflected in a true humanity that did just that.
To put this simply on the level of 'order' is to miss God's point, despite what Israel ended up doing with it.
Par. 5 is not how LGBTO would look at themselves. This only serves to
blanket the churches reaction which you are at odds with. The language
'the oppression of homosexuals' is a laden comment that is self-serving
and not categorically true. If you encourage homosexuality through
marriage, how do you know that YOU are not contributing to their
oppression that you accuse the Church of?
There is the need for a new creation perspective that integrates true
justice and true holiness which challenges either sense of bifurcation
that you continue to foster as the problem.
Par 6 the term porneia would no doubt include homosexuality.
Par 7, your exegesis of Rom 1 is superficially despite you desire to
'remain true to the text.' As Paul describes a society committed to
idotatry (the offspring of Adam) it will be a society that expresses
itself in homosexual terms, as one indicator of its condition. How has
God come to resolve that problem? Not by simply the institution of
marriage.
In par 8 you make a cavalier and unproven statement 'There is nothing
here that overthrows what Brueggemann says.' WHo cares what
Brueggemann says, if it is not what God says, it matters nothing.
Par 9 the homosexuality is not a choice comment is unprovable. The
church is not a 'community of sinners' but a community of new creations
who see humanity differently and should desire encouraging toward a new
creation practice. To use the tired argument that we are all sinners
and therefore what right do we have to challenge those who engage in
homosexuality because we cannot help ourselves in heterosexual sin
misses the point. You also mention the broader biblical context but do
not present the story as a move from creation to new creation. What is
God's expectation of his new creation world? It is not served by
assuming that it is part of that world to think of homosexuals as being
married.
Your paragraph 10 is a subjective anti-Church rant. What do you mean, 'the very act of marriage that redeems them?'
How about the 'creation mandate' and ROm 1 in the context of fallen
humanity and that new creation desires to offer true intimacy in the
renewed presence of YHWH, without making this about 'justice' and
'rights' etc.
I find your comments open to many holes, that need plugged and I would
not be convinced by such self-serving stuff being passed off as a
statement of justice.
By the way I read your paper on speaking Christianly. I wonder about
the 'words' and not the practice comments. Words seem too narrow an
idea. ALso a statement on pg. 7 'the church that seeks to exist as a
counter-culture yet chooses to speak the language of culture will
become
absorbed and marketed' might be a good thesis to prove.
Over to you buddy boy
Dan:
You've challenged me a great deal. Let me try to continue moving the discussion forward. I'm typing a whole lot but I really would appreciate your further thoughts on this. Despite my biases I really do have a desire to be faithful. Increasingly I am developing an appreciation for those who have authority over me and I am finding myself increasingly willing to admit
that I'm wrong and humble myself (I hope).
(1) You are correct in thinking that much of what I say is premised upon Brueggemann's comments about the justice and holiness traditions. Reading Dempster's book has caused me to revisit much of what Brueggemann
says and it seems he carries a particular bias against creation theology, holiness traditions, and temple ideology which — although this may be an important countering voice to the ways in which those things have been abused in the context from which he writes — don't do justice to the text. If Brueggemann is wrong then the foundation is knocked out from under
me.
(2) Let me try to clarify how I understand the division. I agree that there is no sharp and clear bifurcation between justice and holiness — Brueggemann notes this but still does a pretty neat and tidy job of seperating them anyway — but I think the question raised is one in relation to cleanness and uncleanness. What has changed in this regard after Christ? I think what Brueggemann is trying to do (following Belo, I think) is to argue that Jesus
radically changes the notion of what is clean or unclean. Thus his table fellowship with sinners, tax-collecters, prostitutes, and his contact with
lepers, etc. It is no longer that the clean person comes into contact with the unclean person and is thereby defiled. Now the unclean person is made clean by contact with the clean person.
(3) Of course this would suggest some sort of fundamental transformation (a new creation). As you rightly note, I don't really pick up on this so let me
try to do so now. I was worried that when I was writing down these (somewhat rambling) thoughts that the argument I used is the same as others who would justify Christian violence and other such atrocities so I hope I can seperate myself from that (and from the whole Niebuhrian school of thought). Of course this hits me pretty hard because I've been spending a whole lot of the last few years wondering just where in the world this new creation is occuring. Of course it would be so much easier if people could just become
Christians and God would change their sexual orientation so that it reflects the original order of creation. But that doesn't happen. It would be great
if God healed all the lepers that became Christians but that's not happening. But this is where I try to distinguish between what I would call the genetics of
fallenness and the practice of sinfullness. Engaging in acts of violence is the practice fo sinfullness (even if there is a genetics of fallenness that it is
premised upon) while a homosexual orientation seems more like a genetics issue — like being born mortal. Of course we believe that as new creations we have overcome death — but that doesn't mean we will never die. Faith in the resurrection allows us to die well. Similarly (and perhaps you will say that my analogy doesn't fit here) homosexuality, like mortality, is something that must be practiced Christianly — and the Christian context for any sort of sexual
relationship is marriage. That's why I talk about marriage as a redemptive, as opposed to sinful, act.
Let me pick up on another example (although this issue is also contentious). Jesus, when speaking of divorce, argues that divorce was not ideal but was permitted because of human sinfulness. Now, if one thinks that divorce and remarriage can still be permitted after Jesus, can a similar argument not be
made for marriage and homosexuality? It's not ideal but it is permissible due to human fallenness. It seems to me that this is a movement towards the true intimacy that you mention.
(4) This, therefore, would be the beginning of my response to your more faithful, and detailed, exegesis of Ro. 1. Your connection of homosexuality to
idolatry is accurate and so I wonder if Christian marriage is a way in which homosexuality can be practiced while worshipping the one true God — until
the new creation of all things and the full consumation of God's kingdom.
So let me tie up a few other loose ends.
(5) Granted the whole homosexuality is “not a choice” is unprovable. But I'm not using this argument to support the notion of the Church is a community of
sinners. I whole-heartedly agree that we are a new creation people. I hope me last few comments how shown how I differ from the view that “well, what the hell, we're all sinners anyway.” You'll notice that my perspective still wouldn't be widely accepted by the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bi, trans, questioning) community because I argue that a homosexual orientation is a symptom of fallenness. However, there are instances where I think homosexuality is not genetic but is still permissible. I have done a great
deal of work with women who have survived repeated and exceedingly violent sexual assaults at the hands of men. Such women have quite understandably turned to other women in order to find intimacy. Shall we say
that such a thing is never permissible? I know that God can (and does, I've seen it happen) heal people from even this kind of trauma — but what of those who have to wait until the resurrection for such a healing? It seems that gay marriage is a way that the Church can journey with these people until such a
time.
(6) You mention that gay marriage may actually contribute to the persecution of the LGBTQ community. However, my focus isn't so much on overcoming
persecution altogether (persecution is, after all, fundamental to my understanding of Christian identity). Rather, my question is: how is the Church to journey with the LGBTQ community? It makes sense
that there will continue to be persecution for, as long as the Church is the Church, it will be persecuted.
(7) Finally, I am revisiting old thoughts I had about the Church being a community of intimacy that enables those who are celibate to find fulfillment. Perhaps if the Church were the community she was intended to be — a community of radical welcome and self-giving love — marriage would not be such an issue for either heterosexual or homosexual people. It seems to me
that one should find one's deepest fulfillment from being a member of the people of God, and, if that is truly the case, the door is opened for a way of living celibately that does not seem too hard to carry.
Well, that's a mouthful. I'll be eagerly awaiting your response — you've got a track record of making me recant certain beliefs and so I'll see how this
plays out.
Prof:
I have been thinking about what you have been writing about this same-sex marriage thing and I think I am hearing what you are saying but it is not either good logic or good theology, from where I sit. The issue of marriage as redemptive is a big chestnut that needs to be cracked, for it is built on some poor analogies from an over active mind that desires compassion to be express where scorn has been the most obvious response from the people of God. I cannot ask you to detach compassionately from the situations in order to gain some perspective but your 'desire to be faithful' despited biases is the place to build on.
To connect homosexual orientation genetically to the issue of being born
mortal is a hopeful leap; but alas one which is not given biblical justification. The later is clearly diagnosed in scripture; the former is not. TO compare this to the question of divorce is to appreciated that, despite the church debates over the meaning of Jesus' statements, Jesus did say something about divorce and hardness of heart, while he did not do the same for homosexuality.
The creation mandate is the beginning of the story and the end of the story. How does God's new creation reality address that and which same-sex marriage, despite offering some sense of rights and privileges and maybe even intimacy, does not?
THere will be many of your gay friends who will not be fully 'healed' until the resurrection. yet God promises them, in Christ, the ability for true intimacy now. That is not to say that gay marriage is the Church's avenue to journey, primarily because the church would be legitimating, what Paul understood as an _expression of fallenness and, dare I say, idolatry. Idolatry must always be replaced with true worship and gay marriage is not it.
Your question is a valid one: How is the Church to journey with the LGBTQ community? First, the Church needs to appreciate its qospel mandate in new creation terms and then to understand how 'rehumanization' of all people is central to the gospel. Second, the Church has to confess its sin of persecution of those exploited peoples and those who have chosen certain lifestyles. THird, the church has to get its hand dirty, in a true priest-king fashion, and declare the dominion of God to all peoples. The people of God need to be the people of God and living with true intimacy is possible, even for a celibate.
Your starting points need to be evaluated and your presuppositions test.
This journey is also about you and the issues you have and are dealing
with. Test every assumption, for what you are speaking of is vital and
could be 'lethal.'
Dan:
I am grateful for the thought you have given this and your willingness
to dialogue with me despite my biases. I imagine things will be quite
busy for you over the next few months. I miss your courses and hope
your students realise what a privilege it is to be in your classes.
I only have a few more objections to buttress what may indeed be poor
logic and theology.
(1) You are right to note that Jesus was remembered for speaking about
divorce but not about homosexuality. Perhaps in this regard (and in
the
analogy I make linking homosexuality to mortality) I am engaging in a
leap that is unjustified. However, I can't help but wonder if the
issue
of homosexuality wasn't really “on the radar” with Jesus. Granted it
was a part of the Greco-Roman world but how much contact would Jesus
have with that issue? I've been reading James Dunn's “Jesus
Remembered”
and if Jesus' ministry was mostly located within Galilee it's not
surprising to me that we have no record of Jesus teaching on this
topic.
Of course, there are many ethical situations that we face that Jesus
never spoke about explicitly. We are forced to try and live faithfully
by learning from the teaching trajectory started by Jesus. Thus,
although there is no specific teaching on slavery in the Jesus
tradition, we can develop a faithful Christian response that seeks to
eliminate slavery based on Jesus' words and deeds. Other examples
abound: we can say that Christians should oppose nuclear armament, not
because Jesus taught about nuclear weapons, but because of his
teachings
on violence, love of enemies, etc., and because of the way he lived his
life. Naturally it seems easier to draw these conclusions because the
links are more obvious. In situations like homosexuality where it
seems
like Scripture is much more silent and the links are not so obvious (or
are they just not obvious to me because of my biases?) it is more
difficult to know how to respond. I worry that in such situations it
becomes easy to rely on
other traditions and we can end up piling up burdens on people that
they are not able to carry.
So I think I need a little more to refute my analogy other than the
argument that Jesus is silent on the topic. I still wonder if I'm onto
something with the comparison to divorce.
(2) Continuing with the topic of a “redemptive” understanding of
marriage (that big chestnut waiting to be cracked), I wish you could
explain to me more about why marriage does not provide a context where
homosexuals can engage in true worship and no longer engage in
idolatry.
You simply say that gay marriage is not the context for true worship.
Can you explain why not?
(3) I appreciate your threefold response as to how the Church is to
journey with the LGBTQ community. I am intrigued by your emphasis on
the Church learning to live as God's priest-king people (the whole idea
of priesthood has been increasingly exciting to me as I've dived into
some OT studies and developed a bit more of an understanding of that
role. It seems to be sorely neglected by many of us Christians today)
that extends God's dominion to all people. Could you fill out a little
more about what you mean by that?
(3) As I have been thinking about this issue I have tried to examine
what my biases are and how they may be warped… but we all have our
blind-spots and I would find it helpful if you shared what you perceive
my biases to be. One bias that I have tried to avoid is the whole
notion that intimacy is only (or most fully) experienced in sex. I
really don't believe that. I think one's deepest intimacy should come
from being a part of the people of God. So, I don't think what I write
hinges on the popular notion of sex and intimacy. After all, I am
living as a single person and I don't feel some sort of emptiness or
deficiency because I am not married or not in a sexual relationship.
That said, I do think marriage and sexual intimacy is a great blessing
from God and I am trying to examine why some people groups may be
excluded from that — or what God-given boundaries exist around it.
Perhaps there are other assumptions and presuppositions you have picked
up on that you could share
with me?
(4) In my efforts to be faithful (as much as I have studied and read
about this) I have also been spending time praying. I was all set to
recant and submit on this issue after receiving your last email but as
I
was praying I felt fairly strongly that — at least for the moment — I
shouldn't recant quite yet. Man, I hate to even pull that card (as if
what I feel when I pray is definitive for Christian living, that's one
helluva dangerous slope as well), but I'm just trying to be honest.
Prof:
Classes started yesterday and we had a good beginning in all three.
In your last email you begin a thought with ' I can't help but wonder.'
That is another way of saying 'I hoping (with little evidence to
support my hopes.' My radar is up with sentences like that political
correctness.
Because homosexuality was a particular Gentile malady and not on a
Jewish neve mind Jesus radar screne is not really the point. It was
you
who made the analogy between something Jesus said (divorce) and
homosexuality. You can't have it both ways!
Slavery is a dehumanizing ethical evil, no questions. Are you prepared
to say that the homosexuality discussion should be approached like
slavery. If so does the analogy say that homosexuality is evil and
dehumanizing? Your cope out on scriptures silence is the 'fear' that
it
will become 'easy to rely on other traditions and we can end up piling
up burdens on people that they are not able to carry.' Come on, deal
with the issues here and not your fears (or biases). Scripture has not
left us in a vacuum on how to deal with human idolatry and
dehumanization and does not need to give a commandment with precision.
That does not give us license nor freedom to violate people in our
responses.
Marriage does not provide a context where homosexuals can engage in
true worship and no longer engage in idolatry, because we are not in
the
position to try and reform (or 'redeem' a term I resent being used this
way) idolatry. Through the power of God's new age Spirit we are to
implement God's plan to tear down idols.
The 'priest-king' implication comes from the creation mandate to
'cultivate and keep the earth.' It is carried through similarly with
the priests in the tabernacle and temple and it reflects the mission of
Jesus in whose steps we follow.
You mention that you think 'marriage and sexual intimacy are a great
blessing from God and I am trying to examine why some people may be
excluded from that.' Marriage may be a symbol of true intimacy, but it
is still only a symbol, and not the real thing. Was Jesus able to
express true intimacy? I assume he was not married (gay or otherwise).
WHy offer people a symbol, investing it with more life than it can or
was ever intended to bare. Is doing that not what Israel did with the
temple or circumcision etc. asking the symbol to give life, which it
was
unable to do?
My favourite paragraph was your last one. After trying to logic your
way through this discussion your play the 'reflective pietist' card.
Be
honest but be sure, as we must all, confront, your desires and your
blindspots. Again this is as much about you and your journey as it is
issue related.
Dan:
I have read your last email several times. This has continued to be a
topic of thought and prayer for me, and I really feel that the thing
for
me to do now is to submit to your teaching and the authority of the
Church. I really wasn't trying to pull the “pietist reflective” card.
I wasn't trying to use that to buttress my point, I really was just
trying to be honest.
Perhaps (and here I am being quite vulnerable and that makes me a wee
bit nervous) I am somewhat blinded to the significance of the issue
because of a sexual relationship I had in the past. Perhaps I have
developed something of a blindspot to just how sacred sexual intimacy
is
and how deeply inappropriate sexual relationships are connected with
idolatry. Funny, when I was coming out of that relationship, I
realised
how I had really made that woman my god — I was able to connect that
sexual relationship with idolatry in my own life. Needless to say that
should make me very cautious about making my position an authoritative
position.
So, you've got me, I recant.
Once again I affirm the idea the one's truest fulfillment, and one's
deepest intimacy, comes from being in Christ and belonging to the
people
of God. That was never the issue for me. I agree that this debate is
just as much about me and the journey I am on — a journey that is
leading me deeper in intimacy with marginalised people (that was the
reason why I compared this issue to slavery, slaves and homosexuals,
are
two oppressed bodies of people).
Yet it seems that this sort of intimacy is lacking in most Christian
communities. So, as I journey with people from the LGBTQ community I
almost feel like I, even though I'm heterosexual, need to take a vow of
celibacy or something. I mean I'm not really confident that most
churches actually offer this sort of intimacy to anybody (gay or
straight). It's almost like we need some heterosexuals who are willing
to take on celibacy and singleness so that these sort of communities
can
develop. Maybe the Roman Catholics are onto something in this regard.
But then again maybe this way of thinking is still investing the symbol
of marriage with too much meaning. Ideally it shouldn't matter if
people married or singled journey with the LGBTQ community but, given
where we are right now, perhaps there needs to be some people who are
willing to deliberately choose singleness until the churches that exist
around us more truly resemble the Church as Paul describes it. I don't
know.

A response from Stackhouse

I recently submitted a revised edition of my earlier post on Billy Graham to a student published paper at my school. This is the revised version:
One of the regular critiques of Medieval Christendom highlights the way in which infant baptism became the method by which entire societies and whole nations of people were made Christian. There was little focus on discipleship or the formation of a Christian identity that posed any sort of challenge to the reigning powers. Within Christendom one was simply born into both the Church and the state and one revealed oneself to be a model Christian by living as a model citizen. Naturally those of us who live after Christendom have good reason to question such an understanding of Christian identity.
However, what we tend to overlook is that this is essentially what Billy Graham did to American Christianity in the twentieth century. Only Reverend Graham made it even easier. No ritual was required – all that one had to do was ask Jesus into one’s heart in order to be a born again Christian. Once more being a good Christian was equated with being a good citizen. Christians were those committed to the morals and values of America. With such an understanding of Christianity there was little need for any sort of ongoing discipleship, identity formation, or the practice of the disciplines that build Christian virtues. Billy could just travel from arena to arena and soon America was (yet again?) a Christian nation.
The result of this was churches closely linked to social and political power full of people who didn’t have a clue about what it meant to live as a part of the people of God. Consequently, as the Christian gloss over the practice of socio-political power has become increasingly unnecessary these churches have discovered themselves to be impotent, uninteresting, and empty. Essentially Reverend Graham built God’s house on the sand. But, as Jesus said, such houses will not stand when the storm comes. The storm has come and the house that Billy built has collapsed.
After Christendom’s history of false baptisms the Church needs to return to a truer understanding of this sacrament. After all, one becomes a Christian not by having Christ “in me” but by being in Christ. Graham proclaimed a gospel that placed Jesus in my heart and thereby made me, the individual, the body of Christ. Yet St. Paul is clear that what matters is not having Jesus in my heart but being in Christ – and this is what baptism is all about. One is baptized into Christ and into Christ’s body, the Church. We, the Church (not I, the individual) are the body of Christ.
Therefore, baptism rightly understood is seen as the act by which one becomes committed to the discipleship, the formation, and the discipline of the Church. Of course this is much more demanding than simply asking Jesus into one’s heart, and I suspect that it is the demands of discipleship (disguised as an aversion to ritual?) that have caused baptism to lose its significance in the contemporary Church. However, it is crucial that we recover the centrality of baptism. For since it links the individual believer to the body of Christ it is a genuinely salvific act.
It should be emphasized that those who undergo this baptism cannot remain on intimate or comfortable terms with socio-political powers. In baptism one becomes crucified with Christ – and Christ was crucified by the socio-political powers. Therefore, to try and wield such power is a (literally) violent contradiction of Christian identity.
Once again Graham’s (per)version of the gospel misses this central point. Billy takes the gospel of the New Testament – the good news of Jesus’ Lordship – and turns it into a message that offers individual souls a way to get into heaven when the body dies. Such an individualistic, disembodied, and otherworldly gospel means that Billy has no problem being connected to socio-political powers. Yet when one understands the gospel as the proclamation of Jesus’ Lordship one cannot help but be drawn into conflict with state powers. It is baptism into the communal practice of cruciformity that is the true foundation of God’s House.
Interestingly enough Dr. John Stackhouse wrote a response that will be printed in this week's paper. For those who are curious, here it is:
I write in regard to Dan’s piece, “Jesus in My Heart: How Billy Graham Built God’s House on Sand.” I am dismayed by it.
To be sure, I am not against vigorous, opinionated journalism. (The record shows that I have undertaken a bit of it myself.) Nor am I against criticism of the North American evangelical movement. (Ditto.)
I want to say, furthermore, that I like Dan personally, I have enjoyed having him in my courses, and I respect his commitment especially to the poor. He is a zealous Christian.
Alas, this article shows some of his zeal, at least, to be “without knowledge” (Rom. 10:2). As one who has published scholarly research on Billy Graham, I can categorically say that Dan does not understand Brother Graham either historically or theologically.
Historically, Billy Graham has not played the role Dan ascribes to him in the development of either evangelicalism or American culture. The tensions in American culture that trouble Dan about religion and society go back to the Puritans of America’s founding. There is no big change with Graham in these tensions, and it is wildly inaccurate, not to say libelous, to lay these issues at his door.
Theologically, Billy Graham simply does not say what Dan thinks he says. Having myself listened to dozens of Graham’s sermons and read hundreds of pages of his writing and of his biographers’, I wonder on what basis Dan presumes to characterize Billy Graham’s message. Graham has always emphasized holiness of life and the importance of church membership, and his organization has worked hard in both publications and in programs to link those who sign “decision cards” at rallies with local churches to avoid exactly the kind of cheap conversion against which Dan inveighs.
Others in our community likely will want to take issue with Dan”s soteriological and ecclesiological musings, including his highly selective reading of the New Testament, in which he privileges the language of “in Christ” while ignoring even denigrating–the multiple uses of Christ in us (e.g., John 15:1-10; Gal. 2:20; Col. 1:27).
For now, I will simply point out that Dan has built his criticism of Billy Graham not on the rock of serious scholarship, but on the sand of journalistic impression. Such a criticism cannot be allowed to stand, and it will not.
John G. Stackhouse, Jr.
Sangwoo Youtong Chee Professor of Theology and Culture
Yowza!

Subjects of the King

In his book Jesus Remembered James Dunn argues for three primary titles given to the new community of people that formed around Jesus. I find it telling to compare these titles to those that John Stackhouse gives to the people of God in his teaching (these titles were the central motifs of his course The Christian Life, and also merited attention in his course Theology of Culture. I suspect they will also be operative in his upcoming book on that subject).
Stackhouse says the the people of God should understand themselves as (1) children of God and (2) disciples of Jesus. Dunn is in agreement with this — his second and third titles for the people formed around Jesus are exactly these. However, what is significant is what Stackhouse leaves out. Dunn first title, and the one that is given primacy, is “Subjects of the King.”
(Dunn does a beautiful job of showing how these titles fit into Jesus' threefold call to (a) repent, (b) believe, and (c) follow me. Repentance is required for subjects to once again return to submitting themselves to the reign of God; belief is the corollary of discovering that this Divine Sovereign is also Father — and one can thus have faith like a child, and live as a child of God; and following Jesus is the vocation of Christian disciples.)
When Dunn gives primacy to an understanding of Christian identity that focuses on being subjects of the King he notes how little notice this topic has received in much of modern theology and biblical studies. However, he emphasises that such an understanding is intimately linked to Jesus' proclamation of the kingdom of God. The proclamation of the kingdom come (and coming) highlights the reign of God, and implies a subject/king relationship.
Neglecting this title is a significant blind-spot in Stackhouse's theology. Or is it a blind-spot? It is rather convenient for theologians like Stackhouse to deemphasise this topic. As a theologian Stackhouse has been highly influenced by the likes of R.R. Niebuhr and is committed to working alongside of (and as a part of) the powers that be in order to enact social transformation. To prioritise the theme of God's reign, and the proclamation that Jesus (and only Jesus) is Lord jeopardizes this approach — which is why Stackhouse would rather see the likes of Yoder and Hauerwas as sectarian, rather than giving any priority to the implications of Jesus' Lordship.
This is not to say that nothing good has come from the Niebuhrian school of thought. However, there may well be a better way. “Christian realism” is markedly hopeless leaving little room for such major biblical motifs as the exodus, the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost, and the inauguration of a new creation. The faith of the biblical authors is far more defined by hope than by any sort of “realism” — yet this hope is assured because it is grounded in the proclamation that God has returned to reign at Zion, and Satan has been defeated. Christian realism actually gets itself behind the 8-ball and, from the get-go, prevents itself from attaining that for which it strives — transformation.
(Hauerwas applies the same critique to Christians that are focused on relevance. A Christianity that strives after relevance will end up being irrelevant; it is only a Christianity that strives to be faithful that will discover that it is radically relevant. Which is one of the reasons why I can't stand Relevant Magazine. A friend of mine gave it a more appropriate title — Self-Indulgent.)

Writing in the Dust

And everyone has memories from the night that melted stone
The neighbour's nightgown, the screaming on the phone
And the tired man at the station says “we can't tell who's alive
All we ever know is that the tourists survive”
“Tra la la, tra la la, let's go” they say
“Let's go Pompeii”
~ Dar Williams, This Was Pompeii
Rowan Williams in his book Writing in the Dust: After September 11 speaks of his experience in New York (he was a few blocks from the World Trade Centre when the planes hit) and tries to articulate some sort of Christian response. One of his central points is the need for people to initially stay silent when crises occur. One's initial response can too often be co-opted by a religious or political agenda that only makes matters worse for everyone. Thus he talks about the importance of taking time to stoop and write in the dust (like Jesus did when the crowd brought him a woman who had been caught in adultery) before speaking. Those first moments of silence can change everything.
I have been thinking about what has been happening in New Orleans and have been on the edge of writing a post about it, responding to some of what the mainstream media has been saying but I realised that I needed some time to “write in the dust” before I spoke. And even now I submit these thoughts tentatively.
You see, my initial reaction was to cry out against voices that wanted to glamourise the event or trivialise other tragedies. Calling the hurricane's impact on New Orleans “our tsunami” only makes sense if American money is valued more than the lives of people in the two-third's world. The impact just isn't comparable. What such headlines reveal is the way in which those in positions of power are able to write history. Jon Sobrino makes this point in his book Where is God?. We all know the date when the planes hit New York but who can name the day when Afghanistan was first bombed, who can name the date when war was brought to Iraq?
However, I don't mean to make light of the loss of life and the suffering that has occurred, and continues to occur. In particular, I don't want to make light of the suffering of the poor. As Sobrino also notes, while reflecting on the earthquake that hit El Salvador in 2001 (who in the West remembers that date?), natural disasters have a way of revealing deeply rooted inequalities that remain hidden during other times. It was the poor in El Salvador who were genuinely devastated by the earthquake, and it will be the poor in New Orleans who bear the brunt of this crisis. This is becoming increasingly clear as the police, the major political forces and the media turn their focus to the protection of property and businesses — instead of focusing on saving lives.
I don't mean this to be a rant against the powers that be, I don't mean to trivialise what the people of New Orleans have experienced. Some who rail against the “our tsunami” comment mock the whole idea — people were told to evacuate the city 10 days before the hurricane it. There's no comparison. Yet what option do the poor have? Many people just don't have the ability or the resources to leave.
Thus, it seems to me that one of the inequalities that the hurricane reveals is the deep-seated racism that still exists in much of North America. It is saddening that most of the pictures of mourning and suffering people are of African-American people (at least the pictures that I've seen). It seems that poverty in New Orleans is still very much related to ethnicity.
And when the Associated Press runs a photo of a young black male with a bag of food he is described as “looting” a grocery store. When it runs a photo of a young white couple with bags of food they are said to have “found” the food at a grocery store.
So although I don't mean to rant I am trying to follow Sobrino's footsteps and “speak honestly about reality.” Especially since so many other voices will try to use this to reinforce lies that the hurricane threatens to expose.

August Books

Well, the summer is coming to an end so don’t expect to see any more fiction on my list until December. Of course this is potentially my very last year of course work (what is this year #6?) so that’s leaving me with an interesting feeling. Anyway…
1. Performing the Faith: Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolenceby Stanley Hauerwas. A somewhat mixed collection of essays but — as can be expected from Hauerwas — a worthwhile read. As always Stan is concerned with showing how the Christian practice of nonviolence is linked to the communal development of virtue. He thus argues for a form of nonviolence that cannot be divorced from discipleship. For this reason he argues that Yoder is not a “pacifist” (understood here as one who appeals to nonviolence as some sort of abstract universal standard), for Yoder understands the contingency of all things. This is also why he argues that Milbank should admit that he is a “pacifist” for he is still dealing with an epistemology that buys into absolutes — it is because of this that Hauerwas also argues that Milbank smacks of triumphalism. Stanley argues that Christians are called to endure in the world — Milbank, says Stan, wants Christians to win. Of course this is only a wee sample of a collection of essays that touch on many more topics than this.
2. Dominion and Dynasty: a Theology of the Hebrew Bible by Stephen Dempster. Two biblical studies professors that I have stayed in touch with from my undergrad have continually recommended this book to me and I finally got around to reading it. Basically Dempster argues that there is an overarching narrative that guides the Hebrew Bible (Tanahk) from the first to the last book — and this narrative is shaped by the twin themes of dominion and dynasty (or genealogy and geography). A beautiful work that does a find job of showing the Tanahk to be a single coherent Text and not just a collection of somewhat random texts. Of course part of the beauty of this book is its readability and brevity. A great primer for anybody interested in moving into more serious biblical study (so that should include all Christians).
3. The Rebel Sell: Why the Culture can’t be Jammed by Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter. This book is an excellent critique of the counter-culture that reveals how the counter-culture is self-defeating. Far from providing an alternative to consumer capitalism the counter-culture with its rampant individualism and sense of distinction actually exacerbates all the problems that the counter-culture pins on “the system.” While I tend to disagree with the authors on several points (i.e. they have bought too wholeheartedly into Fukuyama’s notion of “the end of history”) this book should be required reading for anybody (like myself) who has been influenced by the likes of Naomi Klein.
4. The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. I have always had a strong affinity for Camus. The Plague was a beautiful and heartbreaking piece that any Christian who wants to write-off atheism needs to take the time to read. This work is Camus’ defense and explanation for “absurd” living. Living the requires lucidity and hopelessness. It is the absence of hope that is the most fundamental certitude here. Of course a link that Camus does not make explicit — but which undergirds much of what is said — is the way in which hubris is connected to this hopelessness. Reading this I can’t help but think how far the Church has lost its way, for it too, while speaking of hope, tends to live in a hopeless way in our culture. Christian hope, built not on pride but on trust in God, is what enables things to be made new — something that Camus cannot perceive as possible.
5. The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde. Wilde is certainly a master of the bon mot. He can consistently turn a phrase and writes very beautifully at times. Unfortunately the content of this book feels somewhat… juvenile. This is the mentality of a self-absorbed rich kid elevated to the best way to approach all of life. I hate to say it, but that’s the description that comes most readily to mind. It feels juvenile in the sense that the philosophy espoused by the central characters (and by Oscar himself?) is one that has no concern for others. Indeed, the characters (and Oscar) claim that one should not be concerned with ethics — only with beauty — but this itself suggests that none of the people involved understand what ethics are. Oscar’s book is an ethical work — it just suggests a different ethic than what was the norm. And a much more troubling one.
6. Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens. Hooray for Dickens and his (mostly) happy endings. This book reminded me of David Copperfield and was good simple pleasure reading.
7. Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence. That’s the kind of title that has the potential the creep me out (i.e. does a woman have a son that is also her lover?) and there is a rather creepy mother involved. What makes the book more interesting is the fact that it was in this work that Lawrence was trying to sort out what kind of relationship he had with his own mother. This was my first time reading Lawrence and I think I’ll pick up another one of his in the near future.
8. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood. I don’t know what it is with Canadian novelists and their seeming obsession with writing psychological novels (cf. The Manticore by Robertson Davies, or The Piano Man’s Daughter by Timothy Findley, etc., etc.) but this book was excellent. I’ve often scoffed at Canadian lit and said that the only reason it qualified as “literature” was because it was the best of what was available. Thankfully this book actually is the real deal. Atwood writes with a distinctive voice that took me a bit to get into but fully drew me in until I couldn’t put the book down. This is a work of historical fiction around the notorious “murderess” Grace Marks who lived in the 19th century.
9. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. A classic that I hadn’t read in years and so I decided to pick it up again. That hound still scares the hell out of me — but still doesn’t quite scare me as much as Montag’s wife. Yikes.

Boldness and the Joy of the Beloved

I was listening to a presentation that Stan Grenz, Darryl Johnson, and Charles Ringma gave on the topic of Brian McLaren's “A Generous Orthodoxy” and the emerging Church “non-movement” and I was struck by Stan's opening prayer (Stan was another Christian leader who passed away this year — I hope to say more about this presentation in another post. Although I can't resist providing a teaser from Ringma. Ringma says that Brian is a “mischievous” fellow, and so, in that same spirit he comments, “Brian is like a kid in a lolly shop with twenty cents in his pocket. He wants to try everything — he licks every lolly — but he also plans on leaving with his twenty cents still in his pocket.” Or, “Don't even bother reading Brian's chapter on the seven different Jesuses. He's like a fellow who marries a woman that he is madly in love with — who then wants to tell you about each of his ex-girlfriends”).
Anyway, Stan opened his prayer in a traditional way speaking about being able to, through Jesus, enter boldly into the presence of the Father. For some reason this got me thinking about the whole notion of Christian boldness. And I think it must be rooted in the joy of the beloved. I always sort of pictured boldness like a sort of cockiness — because of Jesus we could swagger into God's presence and dare anybody to try to tell us otherwise. I've always associated boldness with a sort of Christian triumphalism or arrogance.
However, it is the boldness that stems from joy that is free of arrogance or fear. And this joy stems from being known as God's beloved. When one is beloved one does not hesitate to run into the presence of one's lover. There is no second guessing, no hesitation, no lingering or hanging back. Rather, “I am my beloved's and he is mine” and the joy that comes from this leads us to enter boldly into God's presence. It is as if love moves us beyond the categories of bravery and fear and into the categories of intimacy and delight.

Jesus in my Heart: How Billy Graham Built God's House on the Sand

One of the regular critiques of Medieval Christendom is the way in which infant baptism became the method by which entire societies and whole nations of people were made Christian. There was little focus on discipleship or the formation of a Christian identity that posed any sort of challenge to the reigning powers. Within Christendom one was simply born into both the state and the Church and one revealed oneself to be a model Christian by being a model citizen. Naturally, those of us who live after Christendom have good reason to question such an understanding of Christian identity.
However, what we tend to miss is that this is essentially what Billy Graham did to American Christianity in the 20th century. Only Rev. Graham made it even easier. No ritual was required — all that one had to do was ask Jesus into one's heart in order to be a born again Christian. Not only that but being a good Christian was equated with being a good citizen. Christians were those committed to the morals and values of America. With such an understanding of Christianity there was little need for any sort of ongoing discipleship, identity formation or the practice of disciplines that build Christian virtues. Therefore, Billy could just travel from arena to arena and soon America was (yet again) a Christian nation.
The result of this was churches closely linked to social and political power full of people who didn't have a clue about what it meant to be a Christian. Consequently as the Christian gloss over the practice of socio-political power has become increasingly unnecessary these churches have discovered themselves to be impotent, uninteresting, and empty. Essentially Rev. Graham built God's house on the sand but, as Jesus said, when the storms came, it collapsed.
After Christendom's history of false baptisms the Church needs to return to a truer understanding of this sacrament. After all, one becomes a Christian not by having having Christ “in me” but by being in Christ. This is what baptism is about. One is baptised into Christ, and into Christ's body — the Church. Baptism, rightly understood, is seen as the act by which one becomes committed to the discipleship, the formation, and the discipline of the Church. Of course this is much more demanding than simply asking Jesus into one's heart — and I suspect it is the demands of discipleship (disguised as an aversion to ritual?) that have caused baptism to lose its significance in the contemporary Church. Yet it is crucial to recover the centrality of baptism. For, since it links the individual believer to Christ and his Church, it is a genuinely salvific act.
It should be emphasised that those who undergo this baptism cannot remain on intimate terms with socio-political powers. In baptism one becomes crucified with Christ — and Christ was crucified by the socio-political powers. Therefore, to try to wield such power seems like a violent contradiction to the Christian identity. It is baptism into the communal practice of cruciformity that is the true foundation of God's House.

Brother Roger: May 12, 1915 – August 16, 2005

Brother Roger, the founder and leader of France's Taize community, has been murdered. While Roger was leading the community in prayer last night a woman arose and stabbed him three times in the neck. He died quickly — he was 90 years old.
It is a sad day for those who have been deeply influenced by our Brother's understanding of Christianity community, reconciliation, and peace. It is tragic to hear of murder and think of bloodshed. But unlike many I am not shocked by the news. It just makes sense. Brother Roger followed in the footsteps of Jesus and, in the end, like so many other humble disciples, he had his life taken from him. Roger spent his life carrying a cross and martyrdom, although sad, is not surprising but rather what could be expected. So I will mourn the violence — I will grieve especially for the woman that killed him — but I remain convinced that on this cross Roger has triumphed. Jesus has taken the power of crucifixion, of murder, and of death, from the hands of the enemy, and we can be certain that resurrection awaits our Brother.
It seems that this year is one for the passing of renowned Christian leaders. First John Paul II and now Brother Roger. It is interesting to compare the two. Both lived long lives but one, the leader of a Church still closely tied to the practice of state power, died a slow laborious death that incapacitated him, took away his mental faculties, and made him unable to speak; the other, committed to a more humble path of reconciliation, worship, and peace, died the death of a martyr. This then marks the passing of two witnesses. Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.