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JPW Recommends...
These reviews also appeared in
Tidings, First Church of Christ's monthly newsletter.
May 2006...Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Spoke in the Wheel.
April 2006...
Cross-Shattered Christ: Meditations on the Seven Last Words.
February 2006...Gilead.
January 2006...The God Gene: How Faith is Hardwired into Our Genes.
December 2005...Why the Rest Hates the West: Understanding the Roots of Global Rage and The Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization.
October 2005...God's Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong
and the Left Doesn't Get It.
September 2005...The Working Poor: Invisible in America.
April 2005...The Meaning of Jesus: Two Visions.
February 2005...The Prayer of Fire: Experiencing the Lord’s Prayer and The Prayer of Jabez: Breaking Through to the Blessed Life.
December 2004...Transforming Worship and The Air I Breathe: Worship as a Way of Life.
November 2004...Standing in the Margin: How Your
Congregation Can Minister with the Poor (and Perhaps Recover Its Soul in the
Process) and The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth am I Here for?
October 2004...If Grace is True: Why God Will Save Every
Person and The Grace and Truth Paradox: Responding with Christlike Balance.
September 2004...The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith and The Rebirth of Orthodoxy: Signs of New Life in Christianity.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German theologian whose work was greatly shaped by the rise of the Nazi regime, and whose reputation was sealed by his central role in the Protestant church resistance to Nazism. His fate was sealed by his resistance as well; shortly before the end of World War II, he was hanged by the Nazis for his part in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. Renate Wind's biography of Bonhoeffer is a good introduction to the historical context that shaped his work and faith, and a thorough understanding of that context is critical in avoiding soundbite-style oversimplifications of his influential thoughts on church, state, nonviolence, resistance, sin, and grace. Perhaps better than any other 20 th-century theologian, Bonhoeffer addressed the necessity of living a life of holiness without falling into legalism, as well as the necessity of living life in community without falling into conformity. These are lessons we can all benefit from as Christians today—however few or many parallels we might see between his time and our own.
Stanley Hauerwas is an uncompromising, sometimes prickly theologian known for his consideration of the relationship between Christians, the Church, and broader society. In Cross-Shattered Christ, he mostly sets those concerns aside to explore the depths to be found in the recorded words of Jesus on the Cross. However, he is as uncompromising as ever, refusing to “read Christ’s words solely through the lens of our own need.” He minces no words about our tendency as Christians to try to domesticate Jesus’ death with soundbite-worthy explanations, whether as conservatives describing a cosmic judicial transaction or as liberals describing a crowning example of the violence of oppressive systems. Hauerwas focuses instead on the crucifixion as an expression of God’s need—as the most intimate revelation of the inner life of the Trinity that we have been given. He reminds us, in short, that a life of faith is fundamentally not about finding out what God can do for us, but about immersing ourselves in the mystery of the divine and aligning ourselves with what God does for the world.
This novel takes the form of a letter from an elderly father to his young son. John Ames, an aging preacher who has lived his entire life in the same small Iowa town, does not expect to live much longer because of his failing heart. He sets out to tell his son all the things he will not have a chance to share slowly over time, in the normal way that fathers are companionable with sons, as he puts it. The result is a rambling but compelling mix of family history and reflections on love, faith, grace, redemption and the beauty of the created world. It is a book that manages to address everything that matters, although nothing much happens. Readers have generally either loved Gilead (it has won numerous awards including the Pulitzer Prize) or really disliked it, but even readers disappointed with it agree that Robinson writes beautifully. Give Gilead a chance, and hopefully you will not be disappointed.
As the recent controversy over teaching Intelligent Design in public school biology classes shows, the tension between science and faith in our society is as strong as ever. Dean Hamer puts himself in the middle of this tension with The God Gene, a scientifically rigorous but very readable exploration of how our genes and biochemistry may influence our spirituality. He emphasizes from the start that “it is essential to realize that there is nothing intrinsically theistic or atheistic about postulating a specific genetic and biochemical mechanism for spirituality. If God does exist, he would need a way for us to recognize his presence.” He also emphasizes that genes may determine whether some people have more or less faith than others, but not what specific convictions they might have.
Hamer’s research focuses on self-transcendence, an umbrella psychological category comprising self-forgetfulness, transpersonal identification, and mysticism—three characteristics of recognizably spiritual people across religious traditions. He discovered that variations in a gene that affects the supply of monoamines in the brain (serotonin, dopamine, noradrenaline), which play a key role in our emotions and consciousness, correlate with differences in spirituality between people. He also confirmed that “it’s possible to strengthen one’s sense of spirituality by practicing it”; genes might give us our spiritual predisposition, but our environment decisively shapes its final form.
What are the implications of Hamer’s findings for us as people of faith? For one, they are an opportunity to increase our appreciation of the wonder of God’s creation. For another, they suggest we must learn to be tolerant of differences in spirituality within the church. Not everybody will have a highly developed sense of spirituality, but that does not mean that their faith is lesser in quality or quantity. At the same time, not everybody will have a highly developed sense of appreciation for ritual and doctrinal preciseness, but that does not mean that their faith is more dependent on sentimentality than on commitment to God. These differences are just one more example of how we are all different members of the one Body of Christ.
Conventional wisdom about the relationship between the historically Christian West and the Muslim world is that the two sides are locked in a “clash of civilizations.” Certainly, a cursory look at recent and current events does little to dispel this analysis, but does it hold up under deeper scrutiny? Meic Pearse in Why the Rest Hates the West and Richard Bulliet in The Case for Islamo-Christian Civilization approach the situation from different viewpoints, but they come to the same conclusion: things cannot go on like this for much longer.
Pearse locates the conflict in the sociological fact that contemporary Western society has become post-traditional, in contrast to almost all of the rest of the world and human history. With our immense resources, we can afford to play fast and loose with cultural unity without having the inevitable conflict devolve into chaos. Because conflict is, in a real sense, institutionalized, our liberals and conservatives use the polarizing binary logic of “freedom of the individual” versus “best for everyone,” picking rhetorical sides depending on the issue in question. As a result, the “argumentations of left and right…have tended to the same end: the breaking down of all durable institutions bigger than the individual and smaller than the state”—families, faith communities, civic associations, regional organizations, etc. This breakdown is unthinkable in traditional societies, where very few individuals have enough resources to “go it alone,” and very few states are secure enough to effectively care for their citizens through government programs. When Western culture makes inroads into a traditional society because of our economic (and military) dominance, the implied or explicit threat to their intermediate institutions is experienced as a threat to the continued existence of the society itself. Pearse argues that since Western society (coincidentally Christian) sees our “way of life” as a non-negotiable universal good, and traditional societies (many coincidentally Muslim) have an understandable impulse towards self-preservation, violent conflict between Christians and Muslims is predictable and irreconcilable unless we accept that the world cannot be remade in our image (liberal or conservative).
Bulliet takes a more hopeful view, arguing that Christians and Muslims have more that ties them together than that drives them apart: “The historical development of Western Christendom and Islam parallel each other so closely that the two faith communities can best be thought of as two versions of a common socioreligious system.” To overcome immediate skepticism, he points to the long history of violence by Christians towards Jews as a parallel: “The unquestioned acceptance of ‘Judeo-Christian civilization’ as a synonym for ‘Western civilization’ makes it clear that history is not destiny…Common scriptural roots, shared theological concerns, continuous interaction at the societal level, and mutual contributions to what in modern times has become a common pool of thought and feeling.” To overcome sustained skepticism, he offers a clear-eyed and persuasive historical argument that demolishes many of the myths of “clash of civilizations” proponents. He locates our current conflict within the history of other “internal” conflicts between societies understood to be part of the same overarching civilization, such as the centuries of war between European nations.
Despite their differences, both authors agree that we are on the road to catastrophe unless we change the way we look at the conflict, and both authors make their arguments with compelling language and strong evidence. The reader may not end up agreeing with either author, but engaging their ideas is critical, and both books are strongly recommended.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, we have seen a horrible demonstration of the fact that political decisions have moral implications. In God’s Politics, Jim Wallis explores the ways that our society’s willingness to be selective about how we separate “politics” from “morality” results in a system that gives us both bad politics and poor morality. On the Right, a narrow focus on opposing gay marriage and abortion crowds out the practical concern for the poor demanded by the Hebrew prophets and Jesus himself. On the Left, a narrow focus on public policies intended to deliver social justice crowds out the obligation of personal transformation begun in Torah and fulfilled in Christ.
With these fossilized mindsets, an honest and productive public discussion that moves beyond a “politics of complaint” is nearly impossible. As Wallis asks about the subject of abortion, “Instead of imposing rigid pro-choice and pro-life political litmus tests, why not work together on teen pregnancy, adoption reform, and real alternatives for women backed into dangerous and lonely corners?” And he continues: “What does the same ‘sacredness of human life’ principle mean for foreign and military policy?” It may be possible to reconcile supporting war and capital punishment while opposing abortion, or vice versa, but to do so requires a level of thoughtfulness sorely lacking today.
Wallis argues that faith is not just for Sunday morning, nor is it about reshaping society to conform entirely to our own convictions. This message is timely and important, making God’s Politics required reading for all civic-minded Christians.
People on all points of the political spectrum can agree that the American economic system results in winners and losers. Simple observation confirms this fact; no ideology disputes it. Since economic rewards are expected to encourage individuals to be productive—and unlike the schoolchildren in Lake Wobegon, we cannot defy mathematics and have everyone be “above average”—some people have to end up on top, and others have to end up on the bottom. Given this reality, it is irresponsible for our society not to keep a close eye on what life near the bottom is actually like.
In The Working Poor, David Shipler provides just such an in-depth examination of Americans on the edge of poverty. He stayed in contact with many of the people he profiles for “five or six years into the present, checking with them again and again as the economic boom has collapsed and recession has set in, as they have gone through promotions and bankruptcies, marriage and divorce, childbirth and death in the family.” As a result, he avoids the easy liberal and conservative stereotypes of poorer individuals as victims of either unjust societal forces or their own irreparably bad character and choices. What he finds is that people in lower socioeconomic classes are not much different from people in higher socioeconomic classes, but that they lack the financial and emotional resources to weather unfair circumstances or personal mistakes, subjecting their work and family lives to a cycle of crisis after crisis. A well-off person whose car breaks down gets it fixed or replaced; a poorer person often cannot. A well-off person who gets sick has health insurance and paid sick leave; a poorer person often does not. A well off-person who gets stressed seeks therapy, goes on vacation, or pays a babysitter for the night; a poorer person often does not have these options.
The interrelatedness of these crises makes it very hard to develop a straightforward solution to problem of poverty, which makes the slogans of both the left and right seem very shallow. As Christians who are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, to care for “the least of these,” what lessons can we learn from The Working Poor? First, we should be aware that the judgments we make about poorer people are often equally shallow; we must indeed be careful to “judge not, lest we be judged.” Second, we should be encouraged that loving our poorer neighbors might be as simple as seeing them as people to relate to instead of as problems to solve. This recognition of the equal dignity of all people—on the individual (or congregational) level of providing a piece of the financial and emotional cushion so many of us take for granted, or on the societal level of appropriate public policy—can be the beginning of softening the consequences of losing in the American economic system.
Easter is the time of the Christian calendar year when we are most directly forced to deal with how we feel about Jesus as a historical person. Jesus is barely a person at Christmas, more of a promise than a person, and during other seasons we can easily focus on the message of Jesus or the church that grew around those who remembered him. We often prefer to avoid considering Jesus as a person who laughed and cried and burped and talked—and who possibly might talk to us still. But Easter is fundamentally about that person, not about a general principle of rebirth or “the circle of life”; it is about a specific person’s experience of life and death, and the specific reactions of others (including ourselves) to that experience.
Enter Marcus Borg and N. T. Wright, the former “the most popular revisionist voice on Jesus and a member of the Jesus Seminar” (and author of The Heart of Christianity), and the latter “the most prominent standard-bearer for the traditional stance and an outspoken critic of the Jesus Seminar.” In The Meaning of Jesus, these two longtime friends respectfully engage each other on the most fundamental questions of “who Jesus was, what he taught, and what he did.” It is hard to imagine a book that does a better job of laying out the two main modern understandings of Jesus. Anyone who reads it will find their own understanding of Jesus tested and refined, and will find much in either position to respect. Borg and Wright succeed in showing how people with very different theological views can still come together in the Body of Christ as followers of the Jesus who prayed “that they may all be one.”
Prayer is one of those things that many Christians know they are supposed to do
(after all, Paul urges us to “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thessalonians 5:17)
but are not entirely sure how to go about doing properly. It is not surprising that how-to
(and why-to) books about prayer are widely published across all theological and philosophical
lines. The Prayer of Fire and The Prayer of Jabez are two very different,
very representative books about prayer that nonetheless manage to dig down to one very
important shared conclusion.
In The Prayer of Fire, Lorraine Kisly describes prayer as
“a journey to the heart of the Christian promise of deep and intimate relationship with God,”
and the Lord’s Prayer as “the fountain from which all Christian prayer flows.”
Therefore, she argues, “we must learn to allow the prayer to act upon us,” and
be wary of our own desires when they rise up during prayer. In The Prayer of Jabez,
Bruce Wilkinson takes an almost diametrically opposed position on the nature of prayer,
arguing that “God’s bounty is limited only by us, not by His resources, power, or willingness
to give…What counts is knowing who you want to be and asking for it.” He urges us to stop being
scared of our desires, because maturing Christians desire to live in line with God’s will,
and Scripture is a reliable guide to what is within or outside God’s will.
Which book one finds more compelling will probably depend as much
on one’s cultural and philosophical orientation as on one’s theology.
Is the challenge of life to “find yourself” or to “be all you can be”?
Is mystery the central fact of our existence, or simply an unavoidable
consequence of it? Either way, Kisly and Wilkinson agree on one thing:
when we pray, we must not place restrictions on how God will use us
through our prayer, because we are here to serve God, and not the other way around.
What is the purpose of worship? How have cultural changes affected worship, and
how should they? As American society changes from one where weekly church attendance
is a widespread social expectation to one where more and more people view themselves
as “spiritual but not religious,” these are pressing questions for mainline Protestants.
“Business as usual” is simply not working anymore. People increasingly need
deliberate motivation to worship, whether they identify as Christians or not.
There are two main approaches to this problem: to change how we worship in church,
or to change our understanding of worship to include what we do in our everyday
lives as well as what we do in the pews. Transforming Worship, by Timothy Carson,
takes the first position; The Air I Breathe, by Louie Giglio, takes the second position.
(Although Carson writes from a mainline perspective, and Giglio writes from an
evangelical perspective, it should be noted that both approaches have supporters
across the theological spectrum from liberal to conservative).
Transforming Worship is mostly written for clergy and other professional worship leaders.
As such, it is not always accessible or appealing to the lay reader. Still,
Carson does a good job of describing the mainline predicament and outlining
some possible ways to get through it and beyond it. He points out that a lot
of what is considered innovative (and therefore threatening) in “contemporary worship”
is actually a return to sensibilities that were prevalent at earlier times in Christian
history. Therefore, when considering making changes in the style and content
of church services, it is important to make a distinction between what is
culturally unfamiliar and what is theologically questionable.
The Air I Breathe is written for the general layperson, and ostensibly has a more
revolutionary message: that Christians should see worship as the right ordering of their
entire lives with God’s will, not as a weekly chore to be checked off a list. However,
Giglio’s shallow theology, combined with his breezy conversational style, effectively
muffles this important call to discipleship. His message is highly recommended; his book,
unfortunately, is not.
A prevalent question in American congregations today is, “How do we attract
people to join our church in the absence of widespread social pressure for them to
do so?” This question is sometimes referred to as the challenge of being the church
in a postmodern, post-Christian society. Two very different answers to this question,
one “liberal” and one “conservative,” can be found in Mary Alice Mulligan and Rufus Burrow,
Jr.’s Standing in the Margin and Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life.
The differences depend on the authors’ definitions of “salvation,” “mission,”
and “God’s will.”
Standing in the Margin takes the position that God’s will is best expressed
in Micah 6:8, “And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.” The authors argue that these three commands are
really three ways of looking at a single command: to live in solidarity with the marginalized
and oppressed. Justice and mercy are the results of working to relieve their suffering,
and since the living Christ walks among outcasts today as he did in biblical times,
that work also makes us God’s walking companions. Embodying Christ’s love is our mission,
and salvation is our complete identification with Christ’s love and victory on the cross.
The Purpose Driven Life takes the position that God’s will is predetermined and
tailored for each individual. The author argues that fulfilling God’s will is a matter
of being able to give the right answers to “two crucial questions. First, what did you
do with my Son, Jesus Christ? … Second, what did you do with what I gave you? What did
you do with your life, all the gifts, the talents, the opportunities, energy, relationships,
resources that God gave you?” Salvation is accepting Christ as one’s personal Lord and Savior,
and is the answer to the first question. Mission is using one’s unique life circumstances to
bring others to salvation, and is the answer to the second question.
The authors of both books believe that successfully being the church in a postmodern,
post-Christian society requires that congregations learn to tell a compelling story about
how individuals can find salvation through fulfilling God’s will in mission to others.
Because of the authors’ differing theological (and political) positions, the two books
themselves contain two different but equally uncompromising stories. Both therefore provide
useful examples of what a passionate Christian life can look like, and are highly recommended
for inspiration and provocation in equal measure.
Christians commonly affirm that God is both all-loving and all-powerful. A recurring
philosophical question that arises from these paired affirmations is,
“How are bad deeds punished?” If Grace is True and The Grace and Truth Paradox
present very similar pictures of God’s love and sovereignty, but end up drawing very
different conclusions.
The argument in If Grace is True, co-written by two Quaker pastors, concludes that
universalism-—a belief in the eventual salvation of all people, which has danced
around the edges of orthodoxy since the earliest centuries of Christianity—-is the unavoidable
explanation for the fate of the children of a God who is both all-loving and all-powerful.
Scriptural references to an eternal hell must be weighed against the Biblical witness
of the God revealed in Jesus Christ, who commands us to love God completely and to love
our neighbors as ourselves, and also against our experiences of a God who creates,
redeems and sustains—but never destroys. Any punishment by God must be redemptive,
and therefore finite, or else it has no meaning.
In The Grace and Truth Paradox, Randy Alcorn presents the standard evangelical
view that believers are destined for an eternal heaven, while unbelievers are destined
for eternal damnation. However, he rejects any form of Christian triumphalism: “Truth
without grace breeds a self-righteous legalism that poisons the church and pushes the
world away from Christ.” Alcorn also explicitly rejects universalism as a Christian
option: “Grace without truth breeds moral indifference and keeps people from seeing their
need for Christ.” Critically, Alcorn does not believe in the validity of weighing
Scripture, but instead believes that all the words of the Bible must be taken at
face value as the directly inspired Word of God.
The authors of both books agree on many things: that all people must be rescued from sin
(and its consequences) by God; that God loves everyone and wishes to rescue everyone;
that the Bible clearly depicts an eternal hell for the unrighteous; and that zealous
Christians are quick to slip into unrighteousness themselves when faced with sin in the
lives of those around them. Biblical inerrancy drives a wedge between the two books,
though, with The Grace and Truth Paradox forced to resort to a retributive judicial
metaphor for God’s justice, while If Grace is True is free to understand justice as
“the end rather than the means. It is the result of God’s gracious kingdom, not the
tool to bring it about.” One’s opinion of either book will probably be heavily
influenced by one’s own theology—-but both are highly recommended for provoking
thoughts about God’s love, God’s sovereignty, and the limits of tolerance.
Marcus Borg openly addresses what is often a poorly-kept secret at the level of the
local church: that traditional Christian doctrines-—including central ones such
as the divinity of Christ, the atoning work of the cross, and the bodily resurrection of
Jesus-—no longer definitively influence many mainline Christians’ experience of Christianity
and God. Instead of resigning himself to a future of unfocused and shallow “spirituality,”
though, Borg calls for a recommitment to the historical Christian practices and a
fundamental orientation towards God and the inclusive community of faith, suggesting that
it is “better to dig one well sixty feet deep than to dig six wells ten feet deep” if one
is looking for water. In this highly readable yet closely argued book, Borg invites
both “new paradigm” and “old paradigm” Christians to devote themselves passionately
to the God revealed in Christ, and to give up some intellectual or doctrinal comfort
in order to grow in relationship with the one who Creates, Redeems, and Sustains us all.
Thomas C. Oden investigates the same contemporary moment of crisis or opportunity in
mainline Christianity, but from the other side of the coin. He identifies a vigorous
new ecumenical movement that is appealing to large numbers of Christians of all ages and
denominations, with its renewed focus on precisely those central doctrines that
Borg’s “new paradigm” Christians find so unpersuasive. In essence, rather than digging
one well sixty feet deep, these “new Orthodox” are taking water from a well much deeper
than that, which has been dug by generation after generation of faithful Christians before
them. Interestingly, Oden’s analysis of the contemporary spiritual and religious landscape
pushes him towards a modified version of Borg’s “new paradigm,” with a call for respect for
orthodox Judaism, Catholicism, Orthodoxy, and conservative Protestantism as equal inheritors
of the historical legacy of God’s chosen people. In other words, doctrine per se is
less important than historical continuity within the community of faith, since that
continuity is itself the ultimate test of doctrine. Unfortunately, this argument relies
heavily on a view of historical continuity that distorts the actual historical record,
weakening an otherwise strong book that fills in some of the gaps that readers with
more of an “old paradigm” faith will find in The Heart of Christianity.
This page last modified April 20, 2006.
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