“So we got on well with each other, because each of us knew where the other one stood. Eugene Genovese, before he became a believer, once commented on the tendency that some have to try to garner respect by giving away portions, big or small, of what they profess to believe. ‘If other religions offer equally valid ways to salvation and if Christianity itself may be understood solely as a code of morals and ethics, then we may as well all become Buddhists or, better, atheists. I intend no offense, but it takes one to know one. And when I read much Protestant theology and religious history today, I have the warm feeling that I am in the company of fellow unbelievers‘ (The Southern Front, pp. 9–10). Ironically, the branch of the faith most interested in getting the ‘cultured despisers’ to pay us some respect is really not that effective, and this is a strategy that can frequently be found on the pointed end of its own petard. Respectability depends on not caring too much about respectability. Unbelievers can smell accommodation, and when someone like Christopher meets someone who actually believes all the articles in the Creed, including that part about Jesus coming back from the dead, it delights him. Here is someone actually willing to defend what is being attacked. Militant atheists are often exasperated with opponents whose strategy appears to be ‘surrender slowly.’”

Not much to add to this, I suppose, other than to say that these are wise words for a communion that has become chronically allergic to debate of any sort.

In the meantime, those of you who are interested should go check out the Bargains page at CBD.com. They’ve got 70-80% discounts on individual volumes in a number of commentary sets (Interpretation, Continental Commentary, Old Testament Library, New Testament Library, and so forth). I took the opportunity to beef up my Old Testament holdings.

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Now for something completely different. File this under “liturgical/spatial discussions we’ll never have but probably should.” I follow Macrina Walker’s “A vow of conversation” blog. It’s predominantly made up of substantive comment on her readings from the Fathers, as well as contemporary Orthodox theology (check out her series on John Zizoulas’ Being as Communion).

From a recent post comes this snippet:

A couple of months ago I thought of posting something that asked: What is it about Protestants and pews? By strange coincidence, in a fairly short course of time as I had been investigating some South African Christian blogs, I had come across three rather negative references to pews from Protestant Christians. And what struck me was that although they all used pews as a symbol for something negative, none of them seemed to question the inevitability of pews. From an evangelical-cum-conservative perspective pews seemed to symbolise routine and lack of commitment (those attending church were seen as simply “pew warmers”) while from a more liberal-cum-engaged in the world perspective, pews seemed to symbolise a “churchiness” that was separated from the world. And yet nobody seemed to see what to me would have been the obvious solution: if pews are such a problem, then why not get rid of them?

Indeed. Why not get rid of them? She goes on to link a couple of further discussions of this issue.  One comes from a Russian Orthodox periodical. There the writer draws a connection between worship and the body that’s really helpful, I think.

The other is an 1841 essay by John Mason Neale (you’ll recognize Neale from your hymnals; he’s responsible for “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” an English translation of the Latin “O Antiphons”) on the history of pews. Neale writes, “For what is the HISTORY OF PUES, but the history of the intrusion of human pride, and selfishness, and indolence, into the worship of GOD?”

This is interesting to me because it’s one of the implications of a certain view of the body. The body, that is, is involved in worship, not just the mouth or the mind. Worship, in other words, does not take place solely “in my heart.” Bringing this back around to a research interest of mine, I think this is what John T. Lewis is getting at (even if he doesn’t go to these lengths) with his concern about prayer posture and reverence in worship.

The course is arranged thematically: after a brief introduction to the facts of the Movement’s history (names, dates, etc.), the bulk of the course deals with major theological themes that emerge from that history: unity, restoration, democracy, millennialism, and so on. I’m charged, as part of this course, with contributing to a group presentation on the Movement’s hermeneutics. On my end of things, I’ll be looking at Alexander Campbell’s “Sermon on the Law” (1816) and how the approach taken in that sermon led, later on, to a comparative neglect of the Old Testament.

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I enjoy reading David Bentley Hart. (I think I’ve professed my love on here before. If you’ve never heard of him, here’s enough to keep you busy for a while.) In one of his latest pieces for First Things, Hart writes:

The great danger that bedevils any powerful heuristic or interpretive discipline is the tendency to mistake method for ontology, and so to mistake a partial perspective on particular truths for a comprehensive vision of truth as such. In the modern world, this is an especially pronounced danger in the sciences, largely because of the exaggerated reverence scientists enjoy in the popular imagination, and also largely because of the incapacity of many in the scientific establishment to distinguish between scientific rigor and materialist ideology (or, better, materialist metaphysics).

This has two disagreeable results (well, actually, far more than two, but two that are relevant here): The lunatic self-assurance with which some scientists imagine that their training in, say, physics or zoology has somehow equipped them to address philosophical questions whose terms they have never even begun to master; and the inability of many scientists to recognize realities—even very obvious realities—that lie logically outside the reach of the methods their disciplines employ. The best example of the latter, I suppose, would be the inability of certain contemporary champions of “naturalism” to grasp that the question of existence is qualitatively infinitely distinct from the question of how one physical reality arises from another (for, inasmuch as physics can explore only the physical, and the physical by definition already exists, then existence as such is always “metaphysical,” or even “hyperphysical”—which is to say, “supernatural”).

It’s no accident that Hart should focus in on the methodological arrogance of some scientists. Naturalism has come to dominate thinking in many quarters: biology, neurology, etc. are believed to have the ability to explain just about any human characteristic. Diehard adherents of naturalism are also the ones writing the most dogmatically atheist volumes in our day — Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins, among others. Often, it is the case that these writers have little interest in dialogue or conversation with Christians, and even less interest in how the Christian faith is actually practiced (Dawkins’ theological ignorance, for example, is the stuff of legend by now). Hart points out the obvious in this piece: every method, every explanatory model, scientific or otherwise, has its limits. This is so because all of these methods are human. The best methods recognize their limits, their humanity.

It’s also no accident, or so it seems to me, that a similar methodological arrogance has flowered in some quarters among Churches of Christ. A great deal of time has been spent in our circles over the past three decades or so — all across the spectrum from “progressive” to “conservative” — examining our received hermeneutic (i.e. the “common sense” hermeneutic that looks to direct divine commands, apostolic examples, and “necessary” inferences in order to establish authority).

Progressives attack this received hermeneutic, laying at its feet the blame for all of our present ills. It has, they say, been responsible for all of our major (and minor) divisions; it has sapped us of our spiritual vitality; it has left us stuck riding around in a modernist jalopy on superhighways made for sleeker postmodern hermeneutical models. All of this has led most (if not all of) them to advocate, directly or indirectly, for jettisoning it in favor of a “new hermeneutic.”*

It’s easy to see why they do this. A five-minute search of the Internet would turn up numerous, flagrantly bad applications of the “common sense” (ironic quote marks intended) hermeneutic. Not only that. Many of those advocating these bad applications have also broken fellowship with those who disagree with them. This is to be regretted lamented.

Conservatives, not surprisingly, loudly protest these criticisms. This way of reading Scripture, they argue, has given us a great many treasures: weekly communion, the leadership of elders in the local congregation, and so forth. But there is also a note of fear in their argumentation: if we were to jettison the received hermeneutic, what would be our source of authority? This is a legitimate question, one that progressives have thus far failed to answer satisfactorily. But for many conservatives, fear has taken over, leading them to retreat into an extreme dogmatism.

To some extent this is forgivable. Undoubtedly, it is motivated by love of the tradition (even if they wouldn’t use that term). But it’s unnecessary. The conservative critique is accurate to the extent that it gets at the issue of identity in a way that many progressives have blithely ignored. Conservatives rightly recognize (even if they can’t put it into words) that the received hermeneutic is at the heart of our identity as a theological tradition and cannot simply be jettisoned without extensive and painful surgery that might just take the life of the patient. But ignoring or downplaying the questions and problems raised by progressives is not the right approach.

In my next couple of posts, I want to do three things. First, I will suggest that maybe the common sense hermeneutic is not the problem…at least not the major problem. Second, I will point to what I see as the real problems, which are not the ones commonly identified by progressives.  Finally, I will suggest that the real problems dog “progressive” thinking just as much they do “conservative” thinking.

Every method, every hermeneutic, is of human origin and therefore fallible. “Progressives” are right to point this out. “Conservatives” would do well to heed the warning against methodological arrogance. But, on the other hand, our salvation does not come by hermeneutics. All too often, progressive projects to replace the received hermeneutic give off the same whiff of Enlightenment confidence (and, indeed, methodological arrogance) that attends their 19th century predecessors.

*I don’t, by the way, mean anything pejorative by using the phrase “new hermeneutic.” I simply use it because there is no commonly agreed upon descriptor currently in use for the various proposals to replace the “old” one.

– Alexander Campbell (1859)

(H/T: Bobby Valentine)

Happy reading!

“Why is posture so important, then? Because it expresses the emotion tied to prayer. For example, the early Church Father Tertullian said that kneeling reflects humility and repentance, while standing expresses joy and confidence (as in confidence in the resurrection or in God’s love and mercy). Origen describes early Christians praying, whether kneeling or standing, with their arms out to their side, slightly elevated (known as the orans position). To these early Christians, prayer was a bodily act. Posture was necessarily connected to one’s ability to pray in a spirit of humility and reverence. They believed the Apostle Paul was serious when he said in his letter to the Corinthian Christians, “Honor God with your body” (1 Cor. 6:20, NIV). Now, some might say ‘God knows what is in my heart so my outward actions shouldn’t matter.’ This argument is only half true. God does know what is in our hearts, but what is in our hearts should be manifested in our actions.”

I’m stealing the argument in the last two sentences. It’s brilliant.

From here.

What I want to speak to here is not so much the content of Hicks’ post but the discussion about controversy — the controversy about controversy, if you will — that came out in the comment thread.  Hicks himself helpfully shows what was at stake theologically in Lewis’ decision to write.  Some of those who left comments seem to have missed this point, however, choosing instead to pick up on Hicks’ admittedly ambiguous final remark about controversy (Hicks writes, “Lord’s  Supper controversies have been with us for a long time…and will continue to be.  Alas.”), tsk-tsking like New England school marms over the fact that there was debate about this issue.

I was left scratching my head over all of this.  Lewis, as was typical of his style, believed that frank discussion of the issue would clarify what was at stake.  Hicks himself understands (as is clear in the post) what was lost theologically when the Lord’s Day/Lord’s Supper link was broken in 20th century liturgical practice.

Some of the commenters, though, appear to be allergic to theological argumentation of any sort, even as they recognize the problem that Lewis points to.  (Several of them seemed eager to share their own experiences of awkward Sunday evening Lord’s Suppers partaken of by only one or two people while everyone else looked on.  Believe me, I can relate.)

What to make of this?  Should Lewis not have written or said anything, so as to avoid controversy?  And, the larger question(s):  Why not write or preach (or blog) when something that you believe is important is at stake?  Furthermore, what happens to a communion in which all theological argumentation/disputation is ruled out of order because of some negative past experiences?

(Note for my four readers: I’m considering posting scans of all of Lewis’ extant pamphlets — including “The Lord’s Supper and the Lord’s Day” — on the “Texts” page of this blog.  Does anyone know of a quick way to do that that wouldn’t involve me retyping the pamphlets into Word?)

• The New York Times‘ “Your Brain on Computers” series
• Martha Nussbaum, “The Education Crisis and the Depletion of Democracy“
• Rowan Williams’ review of Diarmaid MacCulloch’s A History of Christianity
• David Crystal, “On caring about libraries“
• Alex Clark, “The lost art of editing“