[notes of a sermon, loosely based on Jeremiah 10]
There is a question underlying the passage we’ve just read… a question that doesn’t on the surface seem relevant in today’s society … As I hope we’ll see, it is actually the most important question we can ever ask, because if we know the answer to this question, and if we live and act according to that answer, then we will be happy, secure, fruitful and useful people… The question is… Who is the true God? And there is one simple answer to that question that we see in Jeremiah 10… The true God is the God who creates.
When the prophet Jeremiah was pleading with his people to worship the true God, when he was trying to communicate to them what God is like, who God is, that was one of his fundamental points - the Lord God is the one who made all things, God is the creator God, opposed to all the other pretend gods in the world. V11,12… and then v16
About two years ago in the UK there was an atheism advertising campaign. You might have read or heard the story… The campaign was launched throughout Britain on the buses - the slogans had the message “There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life”
If you saw the original story in the news, you might have spotted a follow on story - a Christian bus driver, in Southampton, England, refused to drive any bus with the advert on it.
The bus company tried to manage his concern about the ads: its statement read like this "As a company we understand Mr Heather's views regarding the atheist bus advert and we are doing what we can to accommodate his request not to drive the buses concerned." It added: "As an organisation we don't endorse any of the products or sentiments advertised on our buses”
The chief executive of the British Humanist Association, said: "I have difficulty understanding why people with particular religious beliefs find the expression of a different sort of belief to be offensive… I can't understand why some people seem to have a different attitude when it comes to atheists."
What’s going on in all this? The story itself was pretty insignificant. Compared to other things in the news at the time… compared to Gaza and Israel, compared to the economic meltdown, compared to the new superstar American President, in media terms the story was small.
But it illustrated something, something that Jeremiah 10 illustrates too. Both the No God bus slogan story, and the story in Jeremiah 10 illustrate that we are all witnesses of a battle of the gods. More than that we are all involved in the conflict.
It’s not a conventional battle. There is no clear division of sides. It is a difficult conflict to notice and describe even though it is all around us. But we are involved in it body and soul, our bodies and our souls are affected by it, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad. It is a real battle that we need to be aware of, conscious of, even if we know it’s difficult to understand fully.
The battle is all about answering the question, Who is the true God? And it’s important because the way we answer the question will influence how we live, how we work, how we respond to the poor and the needy, how we care for the sick and dying, how we care for the environment and the earth, how we care and look after ourselves… how we worship when we worship.
The God question is not academic. It is not theoretical. It’s highly practical. It is relevant for our moral and ethical questions. It is relevant for legal and political questions. It’s not just a religious question. If there is a God who created the world, that doesn’t just change whether or not we go to church, and what we do in church. It changes everything. If there is no God, that changes everything too.
No Creator God, nothing to worry about, because nothing has any lasting value or meaning. No Creator God, no worries about right and wrong, because there is no-one to set any principles of morality. No Creator God, you can do whatever you want, which on the face of it is quite appealing.
No Creator God, anyone-else can do whatever they want, whether you like it or not. No Creator God and there are no consequences, no justice - because if there is no Creator God, then there can be no ultimate consequence, there can be no final justice.
In the first five verses of the passage, Jeremiah passes on a message from the Lord to Israel. That message is something like this…
Don’t learn or copy from the nations round about you - don‘t follow their ways of worship, their religious customs. Don’t look to astrology for guidance. Don’t make idols or statues to use in your worship. And don’t be afraid of their idols and gods, the idols and gods of other nations.
That’s quite a clear message. It’s a negative message. Comes from the first two of the ten commandments:
"I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. "You shall have no other gods before me. "You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them.”
Why did Jeremiah have to say this to the people? Why did God have to remind them not to have other gods, not to use images and idols?
It’s simple - that’s what they were doing! They were looking to other gods, they were using images and idols - they were playing away from home. That’s partly what the first nine chapters of Jeremiah tell us: God was angry with his people, because they had turned away from him, to follow and worship idols, to look to the stars for inspiration and guidance… Jer 8:18,19 9:12-14
Jeremiah warns them, warns us too, that these other gods, these other things that we worship, will fail, they will be destroyed. They can’t do anything for us. (verse 11,15) They cant offer help. They cant protect us against anything. They are not worthy of our praise or our time or our money.
It’s important for us to understand what God is like, because if we don’t believe in the true living God, if we don’t worship him, we’ll worship something or someone else.
That’s why all the recent debate and discussion about God is so shallow… there is no such thing as pure atheism. Even the atheist worships his or her own god - if you stop believing in God, you just end up believing in anything that fills the gap. Everybody has to worship something. Everybody has to serve someone.
I don’t know about you - I shudder whenever I hear someone talk about Mother Nature - who is this person? Why turn nature into a person, where does that tendency come from? Why is it so difficult for us to talk about the world without using personal terms?
There’s an answer to that question… we find it difficulty not to talk about the world, because we are personal, and personality makes the world what it is. The whole world shouts out to us that a person is responsible for it, a person is behind it all.
I remember a few years back, I got the chance to spend some time in America, in New Jersey. New Jersey is just south of New York City - so I was able to visit the city several times… it’s an extraordinary place - not the biggest city in terms of population, but it’s pretty special - and I remember thinking about how New York City is now this huge massive place, with a life of its own, organised, and so on.
And I had this thought: no-one’s responsible for it, nobody’s planned this place. There’s a government, and a mayor, but the city has grown up over the years, and nobody planned that it would become what it has become. But I still wanted to attribute responsibility to someone… something in my little head kept saying to me, there has to be someone behind this - it can’t be chance, it cant be a mistake.
Now that’s just one city - how much more is that feeling present when you consider the whole country, the whole world. Somebody has to be behind it, somebody has to be responsible - Mother Nature, or Father God - that’s the choice.
You see there are only three real options when it comes to explaining things, everything that we see:
Either, before this world there was absolutely nothing. Everything we see came from nothing. No-one has provided a theory that supports this - it requires a leap of faith.
Or, everything we see came from an impersonal something or other. A lump? A energy? A bunch of atoms? Or just a mass of stuff? Out of that came the all diversity that we see and know. Everything came from the impersonal lump.
Lots of scientists and philosophers try to work from this assumption - but it still remains an assumption - and there are still questions - why something rather than nothing? And what’s driving the progress, where does personality come from, how did it come out of some impersonal thing?
The third option is the Christian doctrine of creation - a living personal God who is responsible for the world, the universe. A God who is the source of all personality and intelligence. A God whose wisdom explains scientific knowledge, emotional behaviour, our artistic gifts, our sense of beauty. A God who provides the energy for life to exist and flourish. A God who watches over how all things in the world change and develop. A God who provides purpose for everything that happens in his world.
Those are the three basic options…
1. something from nothing;
2. personal and living stuff from impersonal and dead stuff, stuff that just happens to be lying about;
3. or personal and living stuff that finds its cause and origin in a personal and living God.
Now, I’ve simplified each of those three options.
But I’m sticking to only three. You might think I’ve missed out an option - is it not possible that there are other gods?
How can we be sure that the Christian knowledge of the one living God is true? Well, that’s the point of Jeremiah chapter 10 - other gods are not the God who created everything. The true living God is the God who creates - that’s more or less what the last few verses teach us in the passage.
V11- these other gods, wherever they come from, whatever their origin, are not the creator God. Most of them come from our human imagination, they are human creations. Or they are human perversions of the sense that we carry with us of the true living God. Because we’ve got to worship something, if you turn your back on the living God, you need to fill the gap... and that’s what we’ve done.
Story about Kingsley Amis, the novelist - apparently on one occasion he was asked whether he was an atheist, and he answered, “Yes, that’s right, but it’s more than that. You see, I hate him!” It’s that kind of spirit which leads us to go and follow other gods.
There’s a tendency within us to hate the living God, the creator God. And that tendency is prone to temptation. Things start getting difficult, our circumstances become trying, tragic even. And we are prone to get angry with God, to reject Father God because we won’t believe that he cares anymore, or we wont allow his ways to shape us.
But that’s our human folly - because God is not like the idols we make, he is the Maker of all things - he has something to do with everything - no matter how far back or how deep we search, he’s always there - we can’t escape him - even though we try.
Story of Job. Job38:1-3, God’s appearance to Job - in love! Job is righteous man. His answer, v4 - creation! - where were you when I laid the foundations… I’m the creator God, Job. I’m the Maker of all things - let me worry about the problems – you, keep trusting me… I know what I’m doing.
It’s our twisted hatred of the living God that leads us to worship other gods, or things, things that owe their existence to the living God.
And it is a twisted thing, because it is based on two lies that attack us like a pincer movement.
On the one side, the lie that God doesn’t love us - a belief that is more rooted than you would imagine, because the other lie says the opposite. The second lie tells us that we’re not as bad as all that - our faults our failings are not all that important - don’t go worrying about your sin… because if God does exist, then surely he is a God of love, he will forgive me… this lie that we’re not all that bad, is based on a false view of love.
Do you know the worst thing about this second lie? This lie that our sin doesn’t matter, because God must be a God of love? It’s a perversion of the Christian God, the living true creator God - what other religion even dares to think that God or the gods love you?
There is only one God who loves, only one person who proves that love, only one Holy Spirit who assures us inwardly that we are loved. It’s only the Christian understanding of God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - the one true creator God - he’s the only God who can be a God of love. (Two lies countered… Ephesians 2.3-5)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Can 21stC Ireland live without God?
[These notes were prepared in the third full week of October 2010. They were intended as a 20 minute lunch time talk. Some sections rely heavily on popular online resources, such as Wikipedia.]
The consequences of the recent controversies and crises in Ireland are only just beginning to be analysed and understood. The two big ones - the abuse scandals in the Roman Catholic Church, and the economic and financial crash – those two big stories together will lead many people in Ireland to wonder about their personal history, their personal identity, their values, their sense of well being and belonging. Being Irish is one thing. Everyone who lives in Ireland is affected by the fall out. It’s as if someone has opened the floodgates to a tide of soul searching. In public forums and media commentaries there are articles and letters asking big big questions. I’m about to refer to comments and letters from newspapers and magazines in particular. I think it’s fair to say they reflect what many people in every area and every level of Irish life are feeling and thinking.
According to the lead article in the latest Village Magazine, there is “…a Millennial sense that things are catastrophically bad and we are helpless, particularly in pulverized Ireland, to change our future.” Taking a sweep of Irish history, the article suggests that colonization and famine were so dispiriting, that Ireland turned to religion, only recently turning against it. It is not surprising, therefore, that in Ireland of all places there is genuine debate and interest in the God question. 20thC Ireland lived with God. So God is implicated in the turmoil. Should 21stC Ireland continue with God? Or is it time to finally break the relationship?
Even before the problems of the last two or three years people were aware of dramatic change in Irish society.
Modern Ireland: A Very Short Introduction, published in 2003 – the final sentences on page 146 would have made for a good introduction to another talk… “the first two decades of the 20th century brought Ireland independence, but the final two brought a social revolution whose consequences were probably even more far-reaching. They have shaped profoundly the contours of modern Irish life.”
The financial miracle has turned out to be a con. But very few people would argue that early 21stC Ireland is not a very different country to 1960s or even 1980s Ireland.
The first thing I want to do is share a recent example of this reaction with you. Last weekend, in the Irish Times, Garret Fitzgerald contributed an article blaming the current Irish mess on the erosion of any sense of civic morality over the second half of the 20th century:
“WHILE – UNDERSTANDABLY – we all blame individuals in government, in parts of the public service, in property development and in the banks for the collapse of our economy, no one so far seems to have reflected on just why there has been such a simultaneous collective collapse in public responsibility in all these areas. Surely there must be some common element in this simultaneous emergence of deep fissures in so many areas of our society?
A factor common to this whole range of failures seems to me to have been a striking absence of any sense of civic responsibility throughout our society. The civic morality that underlies the social cohesion of so many democratic societies seems to me to have been absent in Ireland in recent decades.”
Fitzgerald ends the article by suggesting that the crisis might be the start of a new morality in Irish society. But there may have to be a little more conversation before the content of that new morality comes to the surface. One letter in response to Fitzgerald suggests the crisis is chronic…
“Madam, – To read Dr FitzGerald’s article on civic morality (Opinion, October 16th), you might be forgiven for thinking there was some golden past age, where everything in Ireland was hunky-dory and everyone was accountable and the body politic, business and the professions were not riddled with cronyism and jobbery. …
The people who are now in Irish politics, and decision-making positions in the public sphere, are a mirror reflection of the Irish people who elect them, time and time again. They get to be candidates because party members select them at conventions, those members are a reflection of the Irish people too.
So can we please stop this myth, that today’s political class and policymakers, who have yet again ruined the country, are some sort of different species and, if only the “real” Irish people were in control, things would be grand. The real Irish are in control, that’s the problem.
Until the mentality of Irish people changes, the quality of people selected as candidates, elected as candidates and promoted to decision-making positions will remain as weak and corruptible as has always been. – Yours, etc, DESMOND FITZGERALD..."
There is a crisis of confidence and morality, and there is open discussion in public forums about the crisis. What happens when you throw the God question into the mix? This week the Irish Independent published an article by Michael Nugent, part of Atheist Ireland, a voluntary advocacy group that promotes atheism and reason over what he calls superstition and supernaturalism. In his article he writes things like this…
“…the State should be secular, promoting neither religion nor atheism.…atheism provides a better model of reality. It typically results from rational thinking. Science gradually moves closer to the truth, while religion claims to have already found it. …atheism provides a better basis for morality. Morality evolves, and involves concern for the well-being and suffering of others. Religion distracts us from examining this by giving priority to the underdeveloped morality of bronze age tribes and by inventing consequences in an imagined afterlife.
The Biblical God displays at best arbitrary morality, at worst immorality. … Whether you read the Bible literally or metaphorically, you intuitively identify that some of its ideas are morally good and some bad. This shows that you are applying your own natural morality to the Bible, not getting your morality from it.
In Ireland, we need a secular Constitution relevant to today, not 1937. Our President and judges should not have to swear religious oaths. We need a secular State education system based on human rights law. We need to remove casual entanglements between church and State.”
There is a lot that we could pick up on in those words… but there is a reason why it is so significant that the God of the Bible is mentioned in them. The reason that the God question is still relevant, and the reason that the God of the Bible, the Jewish and the Christian God, needs to be part of all these discussions… is because the Christian God is part and parcel of the Irish Constitution.
The current constitution of Ireland came into force in 1937, after it was passed by a national plebiscite in the summer of that year. The 1937 constitution replaced the 1922 Free State Constitution, and it can only be amended by referendum. Among the groups who opposed the constitution were supporters of Fine Gael and the Labour Party the major opposition parties, Unionists, and some independents and feminists. The major personality behind it was, of course, De Valera.
Here is how the Preamble, or the introduction, to the Constitution reads:
"In the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be referred, We, the people of Éire, Humbly acknowledging all our obligations to our Divine Lord, Jesus Christ, Who sustained our fathers through centuries of trial, Gratefully remembering their heroic and unremitting struggle to regain the rightful independence of our Nation, And seeking to promote the common good, with due observance of Prudence, Justice and Charity, so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured, true social order attained, the unity of our country restored, and concord established with other nations, Do hereby adopt, enact, and give to ourselves this Constitution."
So, less than 80 years ago, the people of Ireland voted for a Constitution written in the name of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, acknowledging Jesus Christ as Lord. I think for most of us today that is a truly staggering thing… I’m told that the Preamble makes Ireland’s Constitution unique. As far as I know it is the only modern explicitly Christian national constitution.
Now, for the last 40 years there have been a series of formal reviews of the Constitution, including those reviews and changes in connection with the Belfast Good Friday agreement. There are two or three controversial aspects to the Constitution… but I only have time to survey what the Constitution says about religion.
The Constitution of Ireland guarantees freedom of worship and forbids the state from creating an established church. Previously the constitution had contained a clause which explicitly recognised a number of churches including the Roman Catholic Church, the Church of Ireland, the Presbyterian Church as well as the Jewish religion. Controversially it also recognised the "special position" of the Catholic religion. But part of the article which listed those churches was deleted from the Constitution in the Fifth Amendment of 1972.
In drafting the Irish constitution in 1936 and 1937, Éamon de Valera and his advisers chose to reflect what had been a contemporary willingness by constitution drafters and lawmakers in Europe to mention and in some ways recognise religion in explicit detail. This contrasted with many 1920s constitutions, notably the Irish Free State Constitution of 1922, which, following the secularism of the initial period following the First World War, simply prohibited any discrimination based on religion or avoided religious issues entirely.
De Valera, and his advisers (including Fr. John Charles McQuaid, the future Archbishop of Dublin), faced conflicting demands in his drafting of the article on religion:
1. The demand from conservative Roman Catholics that Catholicism be established as the state religion of Ireland;
2. Protestant fears of discrimination.
3. Prevailing attitudes of anti-semitism.
4. The fact that most people in Ireland belonged to some religion, and that the education system and to a lesser extent the health system were denominational in structure, with Roman Catholicism, the Church of Ireland, the Presbyterian Church, the Methodist Church, the Jewish community and others running their own schools and non-governmental agencies.
De Valera's solution was Article 44. In contemporary terms, it marked a defeat for conservative Catholics, and Pope Pius XI explicitly withheld his approval from it:
• Catholicism was not made the state church.
• Catholicism was given an undefined "special position" on the basis of being the church of the majority. Article 44, section 2… “The State recognises the special position of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church as the guardian of the Faith professed by the great majority of the citizens.”
• Other religions were named and recognised on a lower level. The use of the Church of Ireland's official name antagonised conservative Catholics, who saw Catholicism as being the proper and rightful "church of Ireland".
• The Jewish community in Ireland was also given recognition. The explicit granting of a right to exist to the Jewish faith in Ireland marked a significant difference to the legal approach to Jewish rights in other European states, though contemporary Irish society was far from free of anti-semitism.
Though perceived in retrospect as a sectarian article, Article 44 was praised in 1937 by leaders of Irish Protestant churches (notably the Church of Ireland Archbishop of Dublin) and by Jewish groups.
By 1972, article 44 - once condemned by critics as liberal and indeed by some as offensive to Catholicism – article 44 had come to be seen as out of place and dated. The “special status” granted to the Catholic Church was ill-defined, confusing rather than constructive.
The explicit recognition of certain denominations was seen as unnecessary because of the provisions Article 44.2, which contains guarantees of freedom of worship and against religious discrimination.
This Fifth Amendment was introduced by the Fianna Fáil government of Jack Lynch and supported by every other major political party. The Catholic Church did not voice any objection to the amendment but it was opposed by some conservative Catholics. Some leading members of the Church of Ireland and the Jewish Community said during the campaign that while they appreciated the Article's recognition of their existence, that recognition was no longer necessary.
The referendum on the amendment occurred on the same day as the referendum on the Fourth Amendment which lowered the voting age to eighteen. The Fifth Amendment was approved by 721,003 (84.4%) in favour and 133,430 (15.6%) against.
Nevertheless the constitution still contains a number of explicit religious references, such as in the preamble, the oath sworn by the President and Article 44.1, which reads: "The State acknowledges that the homage of public worship is due to Almighty God. It shall hold His Name in reverence, and shall respect and honour religion."
A number of ideas still found in the constitution reflect the Catholic social teachings current in the 1930s. The constitution also grants very broadly worded rights to the institution of the family.
So, Ireland's constitution provides for freedom of religion. And despite all the changes of the late 20thC Christianity remains the country's predominant religion, with the largest church being the Roman Catholic Church. In 2006, 86.8% of the population identified themselves as Roman Catholic, 4.4% described themselves as having "no religion.", and 1.7% did not respond to the question. According to a Georgetown University study, the country has one of the Western World's highest rates of regular Mass attendance.] While daily attendance was 13% in 2006, there was a reduction in weekly attendance from 81% to 48% between 1990 and 2006, although the decline was reported as leveling off.
Where does all that leave my question, Can 21stC Ireland live without God? Well, I think at the very least, Ireland has to choose. The country has to decide what it wants. The country cannot easily ignore all the questions. And every individual has to choose. Ireland may be a Christian country. But that does not mean all its people are Christian. And as people we cannot ignore the questions. Do we really believe that Jesus Christ is Lord of Ireland? Do we really believe that oaths should be taken before the presence and being the God the Father Son and Holy Spirit?
There is at least one practical reason why Ireland cannot live without God in the 21stC… the preceding generations in Ireland created a political and social society with God at its heart. This generation should at least explore study and get to know the God of the Bible before moving on. Because who or what will replace God at the heart of society if we retire God into historical obscurity? Who or what will provide the justice equality and fairness that the country needs so badly? The Christian gospel does not begin with political constitutions. The Christian faith does not focus on how to solve political and financial problems on a national scale. But it does provide identity for all those who choose to acknowledge Jesus Christ as Lord. It does provide hope for all those who know and believe that God the Father is the Almighty God who created all things.
The consequences of the recent controversies and crises in Ireland are only just beginning to be analysed and understood. The two big ones - the abuse scandals in the Roman Catholic Church, and the economic and financial crash – those two big stories together will lead many people in Ireland to wonder about their personal history, their personal identity, their values, their sense of well being and belonging. Being Irish is one thing. Everyone who lives in Ireland is affected by the fall out. It’s as if someone has opened the floodgates to a tide of soul searching. In public forums and media commentaries there are articles and letters asking big big questions. I’m about to refer to comments and letters from newspapers and magazines in particular. I think it’s fair to say they reflect what many people in every area and every level of Irish life are feeling and thinking.
According to the lead article in the latest Village Magazine, there is “…a Millennial sense that things are catastrophically bad and we are helpless, particularly in pulverized Ireland, to change our future.” Taking a sweep of Irish history, the article suggests that colonization and famine were so dispiriting, that Ireland turned to religion, only recently turning against it. It is not surprising, therefore, that in Ireland of all places there is genuine debate and interest in the God question. 20thC Ireland lived with God. So God is implicated in the turmoil. Should 21stC Ireland continue with God? Or is it time to finally break the relationship?
Even before the problems of the last two or three years people were aware of dramatic change in Irish society.
Modern Ireland: A Very Short Introduction, published in 2003 – the final sentences on page 146 would have made for a good introduction to another talk… “the first two decades of the 20th century brought Ireland independence, but the final two brought a social revolution whose consequences were probably even more far-reaching. They have shaped profoundly the contours of modern Irish life.”
The financial miracle has turned out to be a con. But very few people would argue that early 21stC Ireland is not a very different country to 1960s or even 1980s Ireland.
The first thing I want to do is share a recent example of this reaction with you. Last weekend, in the Irish Times, Garret Fitzgerald contributed an article blaming the current Irish mess on the erosion of any sense of civic morality over the second half of the 20th century:
“WHILE – UNDERSTANDABLY – we all blame individuals in government, in parts of the public service, in property development and in the banks for the collapse of our economy, no one so far seems to have reflected on just why there has been such a simultaneous collective collapse in public responsibility in all these areas. Surely there must be some common element in this simultaneous emergence of deep fissures in so many areas of our society?
A factor common to this whole range of failures seems to me to have been a striking absence of any sense of civic responsibility throughout our society. The civic morality that underlies the social cohesion of so many democratic societies seems to me to have been absent in Ireland in recent decades.”
Fitzgerald ends the article by suggesting that the crisis might be the start of a new morality in Irish society. But there may have to be a little more conversation before the content of that new morality comes to the surface. One letter in response to Fitzgerald suggests the crisis is chronic…
“Madam, – To read Dr FitzGerald’s article on civic morality (Opinion, October 16th), you might be forgiven for thinking there was some golden past age, where everything in Ireland was hunky-dory and everyone was accountable and the body politic, business and the professions were not riddled with cronyism and jobbery. …
The people who are now in Irish politics, and decision-making positions in the public sphere, are a mirror reflection of the Irish people who elect them, time and time again. They get to be candidates because party members select them at conventions, those members are a reflection of the Irish people too.
So can we please stop this myth, that today’s political class and policymakers, who have yet again ruined the country, are some sort of different species and, if only the “real” Irish people were in control, things would be grand. The real Irish are in control, that’s the problem.
Until the mentality of Irish people changes, the quality of people selected as candidates, elected as candidates and promoted to decision-making positions will remain as weak and corruptible as has always been. – Yours, etc, DESMOND FITZGERALD..."
There is a crisis of confidence and morality, and there is open discussion in public forums about the crisis. What happens when you throw the God question into the mix? This week the Irish Independent published an article by Michael Nugent, part of Atheist Ireland, a voluntary advocacy group that promotes atheism and reason over what he calls superstition and supernaturalism. In his article he writes things like this…
“…the State should be secular, promoting neither religion nor atheism.…atheism provides a better model of reality. It typically results from rational thinking. Science gradually moves closer to the truth, while religion claims to have already found it. …atheism provides a better basis for morality. Morality evolves, and involves concern for the well-being and suffering of others. Religion distracts us from examining this by giving priority to the underdeveloped morality of bronze age tribes and by inventing consequences in an imagined afterlife.
The Biblical God displays at best arbitrary morality, at worst immorality. … Whether you read the Bible literally or metaphorically, you intuitively identify that some of its ideas are morally good and some bad. This shows that you are applying your own natural morality to the Bible, not getting your morality from it.
In Ireland, we need a secular Constitution relevant to today, not 1937. Our President and judges should not have to swear religious oaths. We need a secular State education system based on human rights law. We need to remove casual entanglements between church and State.”
There is a lot that we could pick up on in those words… but there is a reason why it is so significant that the God of the Bible is mentioned in them. The reason that the God question is still relevant, and the reason that the God of the Bible, the Jewish and the Christian God, needs to be part of all these discussions… is because the Christian God is part and parcel of the Irish Constitution.
The current constitution of Ireland came into force in 1937, after it was passed by a national plebiscite in the summer of that year. The 1937 constitution replaced the 1922 Free State Constitution, and it can only be amended by referendum. Among the groups who opposed the constitution were supporters of Fine Gael and the Labour Party the major opposition parties, Unionists, and some independents and feminists. The major personality behind it was, of course, De Valera.
Here is how the Preamble, or the introduction, to the Constitution reads:
"In the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be referred, We, the people of Éire, Humbly acknowledging all our obligations to our Divine Lord, Jesus Christ, Who sustained our fathers through centuries of trial, Gratefully remembering their heroic and unremitting struggle to regain the rightful independence of our Nation, And seeking to promote the common good, with due observance of Prudence, Justice and Charity, so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured, true social order attained, the unity of our country restored, and concord established with other nations, Do hereby adopt, enact, and give to ourselves this Constitution."
So, less than 80 years ago, the people of Ireland voted for a Constitution written in the name of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, acknowledging Jesus Christ as Lord. I think for most of us today that is a truly staggering thing… I’m told that the Preamble makes Ireland’s Constitution unique. As far as I know it is the only modern explicitly Christian national constitution.
Now, for the last 40 years there have been a series of formal reviews of the Constitution, including those reviews and changes in connection with the Belfast Good Friday agreement. There are two or three controversial aspects to the Constitution… but I only have time to survey what the Constitution says about religion.
The Constitution of Ireland guarantees freedom of worship and forbids the state from creating an established church. Previously the constitution had contained a clause which explicitly recognised a number of churches including the Roman Catholic Church, the Church of Ireland, the Presbyterian Church as well as the Jewish religion. Controversially it also recognised the "special position" of the Catholic religion. But part of the article which listed those churches was deleted from the Constitution in the Fifth Amendment of 1972.
In drafting the Irish constitution in 1936 and 1937, Éamon de Valera and his advisers chose to reflect what had been a contemporary willingness by constitution drafters and lawmakers in Europe to mention and in some ways recognise religion in explicit detail. This contrasted with many 1920s constitutions, notably the Irish Free State Constitution of 1922, which, following the secularism of the initial period following the First World War, simply prohibited any discrimination based on religion or avoided religious issues entirely.
De Valera, and his advisers (including Fr. John Charles McQuaid, the future Archbishop of Dublin), faced conflicting demands in his drafting of the article on religion:
1. The demand from conservative Roman Catholics that Catholicism be established as the state religion of Ireland;
2. Protestant fears of discrimination.
3. Prevailing attitudes of anti-semitism.
4. The fact that most people in Ireland belonged to some religion, and that the education system and to a lesser extent the health system were denominational in structure, with Roman Catholicism, the Church of Ireland, the Presbyterian Church, the Methodist Church, the Jewish community and others running their own schools and non-governmental agencies.
De Valera's solution was Article 44. In contemporary terms, it marked a defeat for conservative Catholics, and Pope Pius XI explicitly withheld his approval from it:
• Catholicism was not made the state church.
• Catholicism was given an undefined "special position" on the basis of being the church of the majority. Article 44, section 2… “The State recognises the special position of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church as the guardian of the Faith professed by the great majority of the citizens.”
• Other religions were named and recognised on a lower level. The use of the Church of Ireland's official name antagonised conservative Catholics, who saw Catholicism as being the proper and rightful "church of Ireland".
• The Jewish community in Ireland was also given recognition. The explicit granting of a right to exist to the Jewish faith in Ireland marked a significant difference to the legal approach to Jewish rights in other European states, though contemporary Irish society was far from free of anti-semitism.
Though perceived in retrospect as a sectarian article, Article 44 was praised in 1937 by leaders of Irish Protestant churches (notably the Church of Ireland Archbishop of Dublin) and by Jewish groups.
By 1972, article 44 - once condemned by critics as liberal and indeed by some as offensive to Catholicism – article 44 had come to be seen as out of place and dated. The “special status” granted to the Catholic Church was ill-defined, confusing rather than constructive.
The explicit recognition of certain denominations was seen as unnecessary because of the provisions Article 44.2, which contains guarantees of freedom of worship and against religious discrimination.
This Fifth Amendment was introduced by the Fianna Fáil government of Jack Lynch and supported by every other major political party. The Catholic Church did not voice any objection to the amendment but it was opposed by some conservative Catholics. Some leading members of the Church of Ireland and the Jewish Community said during the campaign that while they appreciated the Article's recognition of their existence, that recognition was no longer necessary.
The referendum on the amendment occurred on the same day as the referendum on the Fourth Amendment which lowered the voting age to eighteen. The Fifth Amendment was approved by 721,003 (84.4%) in favour and 133,430 (15.6%) against.
Nevertheless the constitution still contains a number of explicit religious references, such as in the preamble, the oath sworn by the President and Article 44.1, which reads: "The State acknowledges that the homage of public worship is due to Almighty God. It shall hold His Name in reverence, and shall respect and honour religion."
A number of ideas still found in the constitution reflect the Catholic social teachings current in the 1930s. The constitution also grants very broadly worded rights to the institution of the family.
So, Ireland's constitution provides for freedom of religion. And despite all the changes of the late 20thC Christianity remains the country's predominant religion, with the largest church being the Roman Catholic Church. In 2006, 86.8% of the population identified themselves as Roman Catholic, 4.4% described themselves as having "no religion.", and 1.7% did not respond to the question. According to a Georgetown University study, the country has one of the Western World's highest rates of regular Mass attendance.] While daily attendance was 13% in 2006, there was a reduction in weekly attendance from 81% to 48% between 1990 and 2006, although the decline was reported as leveling off.
Where does all that leave my question, Can 21stC Ireland live without God? Well, I think at the very least, Ireland has to choose. The country has to decide what it wants. The country cannot easily ignore all the questions. And every individual has to choose. Ireland may be a Christian country. But that does not mean all its people are Christian. And as people we cannot ignore the questions. Do we really believe that Jesus Christ is Lord of Ireland? Do we really believe that oaths should be taken before the presence and being the God the Father Son and Holy Spirit?
There is at least one practical reason why Ireland cannot live without God in the 21stC… the preceding generations in Ireland created a political and social society with God at its heart. This generation should at least explore study and get to know the God of the Bible before moving on. Because who or what will replace God at the heart of society if we retire God into historical obscurity? Who or what will provide the justice equality and fairness that the country needs so badly? The Christian gospel does not begin with political constitutions. The Christian faith does not focus on how to solve political and financial problems on a national scale. But it does provide identity for all those who choose to acknowledge Jesus Christ as Lord. It does provide hope for all those who know and believe that God the Father is the Almighty God who created all things.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Science and the New Atheism
[These notes were prepared in the second full week of October 2010. They were intended as a 20 minute lunch time talk. Some sections rely heavily on popular online resources, such as Wikipedia.]
Last Saturday would have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday, and his most famous song – at least, his most famous hit as a solo artist – that song provides the title for the first two talks of this Word @ 1 series… “Imagine there’s no heaven” Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky…" The song doesn’t explicitly mention God. But the sentiment and the message is very clear. We don’t need God, we don’t need religion, we can and should live based on what we see in the world here and now. And Lennon’s philosophy of life was in some way a God-less, classless, society where there was equality and freedom with regard to rights and property and so on. Because for Lennon - at least according to the lyrics of Imagine - political, religious and national loyalties were the source of poverty, inequality and war.
Next week, we will ask the question, Can 21st cenury Ireland live without God? And we might think about some of those issues… how have religious and political realities shaped Ireland, and is it time to drop the religious influence? But today, in Part 1, I want to describe and comment on what I’m calling Science and the New Atheism.
Stephen Hawking.
A few weeks ago, in the middle of the newspaper silly season, when nothing else was happening worthy of report, the newspapers in the UK carried headlines like this: Stephen Hawking: God was not needed to create Universe. Has Stephen Hawking ended the God debate? With the publication of his latest book, called The Grand Design, Hawking has more or less come out of the closet and admitted that he is an atheist. In what I’ve read there is still a little ambiguity, but at the very least it is clear that he does not believe in any personal God.
Now, there is a brief history to this association between Stephen Hawking and God. Most of you will have heard of Stephen Hawking. World famous professor of mathematics and theoretical physics at Cambridge University, Hawking is respected among scientists for his theories about black holes and the structure of the universe. And he is known to the general public because of his popular best selling book from the late 1980s, A Brief History of Time. In that book, Hawking described his theories about the universe. Although he did not think God was a necessary part of those theories, he appeared to allow for the possibility that God did exist. So, if we were to discover the secrets of how the universe began, and the secrets of how it worked and held together… well, as he famously put it, then we would know the mind of God.
In his latest book, however, there is a more definite and distinct rejection of any need for God in explaining the universe. The suggestion is that, if we don’t need God to explain the universe, then we don’t need God at all. That is to say, if there is no need and no room for God in the physical universe, why should we allow for God in any sense? Whatever you believe about God, you may as well be an atheist, because to all practical intents and purposes, we are atheists when it comes to what we know about the universe through scientific knowledge.
There is an interesting background to all this. Why should Hawking be worried at all about the God question? Well, the funny thing is that in some ways the development of scientific theories about the universe led to questions about God. Let me try and illustrate what I mean by that. If I was giving this talk, let’s say, 60 or 70 or maybe 80 years ago, and you were all listening to me because you were interested in the latest ideas about the universe, one of the main challenges I would need to address would be this: I would need to persuade you that the universe had a beginning, had a creation. Because some scientists in the early and mid 20thC believed that the universe had always existed. They also believed that the universe was more or less one massive static fixed space. Stuff happened within that space, but the space itself was permanent and immovable. If something has always existed, there is no need for God or anyone else to create it.
So Christians and other believers in God had to argue against that, and it wasn’t very easy in some ways. But then, lo and behold, the science changed. People, influenced by Einstein and other leading thinkers, started to re-think how they understood the universe. They started to think that maybe the universe, maybe space itself was not so static and fixed. Where did that lead? Well, it led to the Big Bang theory. And what does the Big Bang theory say? The Big Bang theory says that the universe had a beginning! It is fascinating that the scientists who were most opposed to the Big Bang theory were Russian communists who were committed or forced into a God-less view of the universe. To defend themselves from the implications of the universe having a beginning, they tried to defend the old view of a static eternal universe that had always existed.
Once the Big Bang theory had become the dominant idea explaining the universe, Hawking and all the other scientists were left with one final problem. How did the Big Bang occur? How did something start out of nothing? And, so, you’ll be able to understand for yourself how that allowed the God question to remain legitimate, even for people like Stephen Hawking.
New Atheism.
To some extent Stephen Hawking has published his latest book on the back of another movement, dubbed the New Atheism. The New Atheism movement is something that has developed in the last decade or so, it has helped lots of people sell lots of books, and it is worth thinking about because of some of the questions that it raises.
The term, New Atheism, apparently first appeared in 2006. It refers to a series of best-selling books that were published in the years between 2004 and 2008. The books were written independently, and the authors included Sam Harris, Daniel C. Dennett, Richard Dawkins, and Christopher Hitchens. The book written by Dawkins, The God Delusion, was on the New York Times best-seller list for almost a full year. The New Atheists are not all scientists. Of those that are scientists, I’d say that none of them are as groundbreaking or influential in scientific terms as Stephen Hawking. But they do claim that atheism, backed by the findings of science, has reached a point where it ought to be more confident. And I suppose that in that sense Hawking has contributed to the movement in his latest book.
The New Atheists write from a scientific perspective. Unlike other people who have written about belief in God, they argue that the God question is a valid topic for scientific research. A lot of thinkers claim that science is indifferent or even incapable of dealing with questions about God. But the point remains valid. New Atheists more or less says this: if God did create the world, and if God does effect the physical world, then that is something that should be open to scientific testing and observation. The New Atheists say, let’s put God to the test, and they argue that God fails the test. For them, nature and materialism is sufficient to explain everything that is seen in the world. There is no need for any kind of supernatural power, certainly not a Creator God. And so they go on to assert that many of the religious or supernatural claims of religion, including the well known Christian claims concerning the life and ministry of Jesus, are either false or they must have a scientific explanation. One example. Apparently scientists at Duke University in America are currently researching the power and effectiveness of prayer, without any evidence so far that prayer makes any material difference to the physical world.
A Response.
I’m speaking here as a Christian, so I’m not assuming to speak for anyone other than myself when I ask: How can Christians respond? Do we have to give up on our belief in God? Or do we have to choose? Do we have to choose between knowing and using scientific knowledge, and knowing and using religious knowledge? Or, and this probably describes most Christian and religious people: do we hold those two areas in tension, being careful not to confuse the two, switching between each area as we live our lives, but avoiding any combination or confusion, so that our religious beliefs and practices have a little existence of their own?
Here are three remarks, three observations on this movement which has become so prominent.
1. Atheism is not new
There have been atheists and atheist movements in public discourse for at least the last 300 years. The New Atheism is different because it is militant. According to CNN, "What the New Atheists share is a belief that religion should not simply be tolerated but should be countered, criticized and exposed by rational argument wherever its influence arises."
I think the difference is this: There have always been people who have argued that religion is bad. But the New Atheists don’t even respect religious people, religion itself is a problem, religion itself is the worst thing ever, and needs to be wiped out. It can’t be a coincidence that the New Atheism movement started in North America and the UK, two or three years after 9/11. Terrorism and wars that appeared to be associated with strong religious beliefs dominated domestic and international politics for much of the last decade. So there was an opportunity for people like Sam Harris to write against religion and against belief in God. The tone of that writing was highly critical, almost belligerent. That’s a change from most other atheist movements. But I think that’s the only real difference. The actual arguments that the New Atheists use are not new, and they can be challenged by all sorts of people, not just Christians.
2. The God that New Atheism attacks and rejects is not the Christian God
In general terms, almost none of the New Atheist writers understand how Christian theology has described God. For example, Dawkins holds to the view of God as a complex being. It is difficult to describe, but his thinking in general is on the face of it quite plausible, something along these lines... “The Universe is a big complicated place, therefore God, should God exist, must be a rather complicated being. But we don’t see any sign of such a complicated being, therefore God cannot exist.” But whatever conclusions those arguments lead to, they do not challenge or undermine claims for the Christian God.
Christian belief has always stated the opposite to what Dawkins understands. God is simple. God is not complex in the sense that God is made up of many parts. Rather God’s being is pure, uncompounded. God is not material. God has no body or material component. God is not part of the universe. God is not the first and original cause in the universe, because the God of the Christian faith exists apart from the universe.
Someone has written these words about Stephen Hawking. They use this quote from his latest book: “Because there is a law such as gravity, the Universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the Universe exists, why we exist. . . . It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the Universe going.” The writer then adds this comment… “Hawking is right: the god he describes does not exist. The true God did not simply set the cosmos in motion. … He does not merely inhabit the gaps in our explanatory theories. Rather he upholds his creation, including the laws of physics, at every conceivable moment. Without his doing so, it would cease immediately to exist. A god who is subsequent to the law of gravity is definitely not the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who became incarnate in Jesus Christ. Thank God there is no such god as Hawking conceives of him.”
3. Jesus
That leads into my final remark, as we draw this first talk to a close. I think there is a more specific sense in which the New Atheist writers misunderstand the Christian God. And I have to say that most Christians who engage and respond to the New Atheists also miss this point, which I think must be the starting point for any credible and useful Christian response. In one sense, you will not be surprised by what I’m about to say. But you might not realize the importance of it: the God that the New Atheists attack and reject is not the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. The god that the New Atheists attack is more or less an abstract vague notion or idea. But the Christian understanding of God comes from our knowledge of Jesus.
Jesus himself said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No-one comes to the Father but through me.” The first Christian believers, followers of Jesus, who knew Jesus before his death… after his death those early Christians were very quickly writing and telling and explaining to people things like this: "Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. By him all things were created… all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." So, at least for Christians, the evidence for and the credibility of Jesus is the thing that will make or break belief in a God who created the world and the whole universe.
To explore the significance of that position would take another 20 mins at least. But I think you will understand how that changes the terms of the debate. If the Christian view of God is grounded in Jesus, described in historical documents that claim to be genuine records of his life… if the Christian view of God develops among people who knew Jesus, wrote about him, shaped their way of life around their knowledge of him… then the place to start thinking about God is wherever you find information about Jesus. And, of course, almost everything we know about Jesus is found in the New Testament gospels and letters.
Closing remarks.
Thanks for coming along. There are some leaflets to take away and read. We’ve got some booklets selling for a euro. If anyone is interested we can arrange further discussions on Science and the New Atheism. But this time next Friday the topic is slightly different… Can 21stC Ireland live without God?
Last Saturday would have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday, and his most famous song – at least, his most famous hit as a solo artist – that song provides the title for the first two talks of this Word @ 1 series… “Imagine there’s no heaven” Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky…" The song doesn’t explicitly mention God. But the sentiment and the message is very clear. We don’t need God, we don’t need religion, we can and should live based on what we see in the world here and now. And Lennon’s philosophy of life was in some way a God-less, classless, society where there was equality and freedom with regard to rights and property and so on. Because for Lennon - at least according to the lyrics of Imagine - political, religious and national loyalties were the source of poverty, inequality and war.
Next week, we will ask the question, Can 21st cenury Ireland live without God? And we might think about some of those issues… how have religious and political realities shaped Ireland, and is it time to drop the religious influence? But today, in Part 1, I want to describe and comment on what I’m calling Science and the New Atheism.
Stephen Hawking.
A few weeks ago, in the middle of the newspaper silly season, when nothing else was happening worthy of report, the newspapers in the UK carried headlines like this: Stephen Hawking: God was not needed to create Universe. Has Stephen Hawking ended the God debate? With the publication of his latest book, called The Grand Design, Hawking has more or less come out of the closet and admitted that he is an atheist. In what I’ve read there is still a little ambiguity, but at the very least it is clear that he does not believe in any personal God.
Now, there is a brief history to this association between Stephen Hawking and God. Most of you will have heard of Stephen Hawking. World famous professor of mathematics and theoretical physics at Cambridge University, Hawking is respected among scientists for his theories about black holes and the structure of the universe. And he is known to the general public because of his popular best selling book from the late 1980s, A Brief History of Time. In that book, Hawking described his theories about the universe. Although he did not think God was a necessary part of those theories, he appeared to allow for the possibility that God did exist. So, if we were to discover the secrets of how the universe began, and the secrets of how it worked and held together… well, as he famously put it, then we would know the mind of God.
In his latest book, however, there is a more definite and distinct rejection of any need for God in explaining the universe. The suggestion is that, if we don’t need God to explain the universe, then we don’t need God at all. That is to say, if there is no need and no room for God in the physical universe, why should we allow for God in any sense? Whatever you believe about God, you may as well be an atheist, because to all practical intents and purposes, we are atheists when it comes to what we know about the universe through scientific knowledge.
There is an interesting background to all this. Why should Hawking be worried at all about the God question? Well, the funny thing is that in some ways the development of scientific theories about the universe led to questions about God. Let me try and illustrate what I mean by that. If I was giving this talk, let’s say, 60 or 70 or maybe 80 years ago, and you were all listening to me because you were interested in the latest ideas about the universe, one of the main challenges I would need to address would be this: I would need to persuade you that the universe had a beginning, had a creation. Because some scientists in the early and mid 20thC believed that the universe had always existed. They also believed that the universe was more or less one massive static fixed space. Stuff happened within that space, but the space itself was permanent and immovable. If something has always existed, there is no need for God or anyone else to create it.
So Christians and other believers in God had to argue against that, and it wasn’t very easy in some ways. But then, lo and behold, the science changed. People, influenced by Einstein and other leading thinkers, started to re-think how they understood the universe. They started to think that maybe the universe, maybe space itself was not so static and fixed. Where did that lead? Well, it led to the Big Bang theory. And what does the Big Bang theory say? The Big Bang theory says that the universe had a beginning! It is fascinating that the scientists who were most opposed to the Big Bang theory were Russian communists who were committed or forced into a God-less view of the universe. To defend themselves from the implications of the universe having a beginning, they tried to defend the old view of a static eternal universe that had always existed.
Once the Big Bang theory had become the dominant idea explaining the universe, Hawking and all the other scientists were left with one final problem. How did the Big Bang occur? How did something start out of nothing? And, so, you’ll be able to understand for yourself how that allowed the God question to remain legitimate, even for people like Stephen Hawking.
New Atheism.
To some extent Stephen Hawking has published his latest book on the back of another movement, dubbed the New Atheism. The New Atheism movement is something that has developed in the last decade or so, it has helped lots of people sell lots of books, and it is worth thinking about because of some of the questions that it raises.
The term, New Atheism, apparently first appeared in 2006. It refers to a series of best-selling books that were published in the years between 2004 and 2008. The books were written independently, and the authors included Sam Harris, Daniel C. Dennett, Richard Dawkins, and Christopher Hitchens. The book written by Dawkins, The God Delusion, was on the New York Times best-seller list for almost a full year. The New Atheists are not all scientists. Of those that are scientists, I’d say that none of them are as groundbreaking or influential in scientific terms as Stephen Hawking. But they do claim that atheism, backed by the findings of science, has reached a point where it ought to be more confident. And I suppose that in that sense Hawking has contributed to the movement in his latest book.
The New Atheists write from a scientific perspective. Unlike other people who have written about belief in God, they argue that the God question is a valid topic for scientific research. A lot of thinkers claim that science is indifferent or even incapable of dealing with questions about God. But the point remains valid. New Atheists more or less says this: if God did create the world, and if God does effect the physical world, then that is something that should be open to scientific testing and observation. The New Atheists say, let’s put God to the test, and they argue that God fails the test. For them, nature and materialism is sufficient to explain everything that is seen in the world. There is no need for any kind of supernatural power, certainly not a Creator God. And so they go on to assert that many of the religious or supernatural claims of religion, including the well known Christian claims concerning the life and ministry of Jesus, are either false or they must have a scientific explanation. One example. Apparently scientists at Duke University in America are currently researching the power and effectiveness of prayer, without any evidence so far that prayer makes any material difference to the physical world.
A Response.
I’m speaking here as a Christian, so I’m not assuming to speak for anyone other than myself when I ask: How can Christians respond? Do we have to give up on our belief in God? Or do we have to choose? Do we have to choose between knowing and using scientific knowledge, and knowing and using religious knowledge? Or, and this probably describes most Christian and religious people: do we hold those two areas in tension, being careful not to confuse the two, switching between each area as we live our lives, but avoiding any combination or confusion, so that our religious beliefs and practices have a little existence of their own?
Here are three remarks, three observations on this movement which has become so prominent.
1. Atheism is not new
There have been atheists and atheist movements in public discourse for at least the last 300 years. The New Atheism is different because it is militant. According to CNN, "What the New Atheists share is a belief that religion should not simply be tolerated but should be countered, criticized and exposed by rational argument wherever its influence arises."
I think the difference is this: There have always been people who have argued that religion is bad. But the New Atheists don’t even respect religious people, religion itself is a problem, religion itself is the worst thing ever, and needs to be wiped out. It can’t be a coincidence that the New Atheism movement started in North America and the UK, two or three years after 9/11. Terrorism and wars that appeared to be associated with strong religious beliefs dominated domestic and international politics for much of the last decade. So there was an opportunity for people like Sam Harris to write against religion and against belief in God. The tone of that writing was highly critical, almost belligerent. That’s a change from most other atheist movements. But I think that’s the only real difference. The actual arguments that the New Atheists use are not new, and they can be challenged by all sorts of people, not just Christians.
2. The God that New Atheism attacks and rejects is not the Christian God
In general terms, almost none of the New Atheist writers understand how Christian theology has described God. For example, Dawkins holds to the view of God as a complex being. It is difficult to describe, but his thinking in general is on the face of it quite plausible, something along these lines... “The Universe is a big complicated place, therefore God, should God exist, must be a rather complicated being. But we don’t see any sign of such a complicated being, therefore God cannot exist.” But whatever conclusions those arguments lead to, they do not challenge or undermine claims for the Christian God.
Christian belief has always stated the opposite to what Dawkins understands. God is simple. God is not complex in the sense that God is made up of many parts. Rather God’s being is pure, uncompounded. God is not material. God has no body or material component. God is not part of the universe. God is not the first and original cause in the universe, because the God of the Christian faith exists apart from the universe.
Someone has written these words about Stephen Hawking. They use this quote from his latest book: “Because there is a law such as gravity, the Universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the Universe exists, why we exist. . . . It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the Universe going.” The writer then adds this comment… “Hawking is right: the god he describes does not exist. The true God did not simply set the cosmos in motion. … He does not merely inhabit the gaps in our explanatory theories. Rather he upholds his creation, including the laws of physics, at every conceivable moment. Without his doing so, it would cease immediately to exist. A god who is subsequent to the law of gravity is definitely not the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who became incarnate in Jesus Christ. Thank God there is no such god as Hawking conceives of him.”
3. Jesus
That leads into my final remark, as we draw this first talk to a close. I think there is a more specific sense in which the New Atheist writers misunderstand the Christian God. And I have to say that most Christians who engage and respond to the New Atheists also miss this point, which I think must be the starting point for any credible and useful Christian response. In one sense, you will not be surprised by what I’m about to say. But you might not realize the importance of it: the God that the New Atheists attack and reject is not the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. The god that the New Atheists attack is more or less an abstract vague notion or idea. But the Christian understanding of God comes from our knowledge of Jesus.
Jesus himself said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No-one comes to the Father but through me.” The first Christian believers, followers of Jesus, who knew Jesus before his death… after his death those early Christians were very quickly writing and telling and explaining to people things like this: "Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. By him all things were created… all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." So, at least for Christians, the evidence for and the credibility of Jesus is the thing that will make or break belief in a God who created the world and the whole universe.
To explore the significance of that position would take another 20 mins at least. But I think you will understand how that changes the terms of the debate. If the Christian view of God is grounded in Jesus, described in historical documents that claim to be genuine records of his life… if the Christian view of God develops among people who knew Jesus, wrote about him, shaped their way of life around their knowledge of him… then the place to start thinking about God is wherever you find information about Jesus. And, of course, almost everything we know about Jesus is found in the New Testament gospels and letters.
Closing remarks.
Thanks for coming along. There are some leaflets to take away and read. We’ve got some booklets selling for a euro. If anyone is interested we can arrange further discussions on Science and the New Atheism. But this time next Friday the topic is slightly different… Can 21stC Ireland live without God?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Edwards on incarnation
The Person of Christ in Jonathan Edwards is an intriguing subject. Bush and others have explained how the incarnation of the Son of God, or the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the person of Jesus Christ, are themes which do not find technical or sustained treatment in the work of Edwards. His interest was in the work of Christ in redemption, and his polemical writings obviously did not require a technical treatise on the person of Christ. Robert Jenson has written that Edwards was at times on the brink of formal heresy in his understanding of the person of Christ. (Lee 81)
There are two aspects to describing Edwards and his views on the person of Christ. The first is to assume that the typical Reformed and Puritan doctrines of the person of Christ underlie the writings of Edwards. Although this is a necessary assumption it should not be taken to mean that Edwards developed ideas with consequences consistent with his own (orthodox) tradition. It is certainly true that Edwards intended to be orthodox. (Bush 7) But some of his writings display ideas that sit uneasily with this orthodoxy.
Sometimes Edwards states orthodox views about the division of attributes in the person of Christ. So, for example, it is always the human nature of Christ that suffers. Edwards wanted to retain the impassibility of God. For example, in his sermon, ‘The Excellency of Christ’, Edwards made distinctions between Christ’s human and divine characteristics. He claimed that only Christ’s person within the Trinity was the proper owner of humility as a predicate. That quality did not belong to the infinite glory of non- or un-incarnate deity. (Bush 187-189) However, Miscellany 487 includes such thoughts as Christ, the man, enjoying consciousness of ‘the glory and blessedness the Logos had, in the knowledge and enjoyment of the Father before the world was,’ and also awareness of relating to the Father as the only begotten Son. This can barely be defended within a Chalcedonian framework that defines the strict separation between divine and human natures in the one Jesus Christ.
Second, it is necessary to recognize these developments. Perhaps the most significant is the role of the Holy Spirit in Edwards’s account of the hypostatic union. This, and other innovations, suggest that the theology of Edwards has yet to be fully appropriated by contemporary theologians who claim to value his legacy. Or, perhaps, they simply illustrate that Christian theology can never fully incorporate all the ideas of one theologian in its historical development. According to Edwards the incarnation of Jesus Christ is the work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. But, of course, it is the Son who is incarnate.
In Miscellany 958 Edwards describes how the work of creation has been the special work of God the Son, that is, Christ. But, there is a peculiar discussion of the creation of Christ’s human nature: ‘And there is but one thing that is created that is more immediately the work of God the Father, and that is the human nature of Christ, and that both in its old and new creation.’ The Father works to bring about the creation of Christ’s body. Edwards refers to a list of New Testament passages that mention the Father’s influence on Christ, including his giving Christ the fullness of the Holy Spirit. The resurrection, or the continuation, of Christ’s nature in the newness of the new creation is also a work of the Father. Not only does the Father raise Christ’s body from the dead, but he exalts Christ to a place of honor in the heavenly kingdom. However Edwards states that even the creation of Christ’s human nature is a work of the Son:
Passages like Miscellany 958 have been used to query assumptions about the christology of Edwards. An assumption about the theology of Edwards might be the nature of the personal union of divine and human natures in the person of Jesus Christ. Bush highlights the role of the Holy Spirit in effecting and sustaining the union between the Son of God and the human nature of Christ. This role is attributed to the Holy Spirit by Edwards in a number of Miscellanies. Bush suggests that Edwards is unique in explaining the unity of the person of Christ in this way. (Bush 178)
Edwards argued from Scripture that Christ’s union with the Godhead is through the Holy Spirit, and his reasoning could be painfully logical. The sanctifying work of the Father is alluded to by Jesus in John 10:36. But, since the Holy Spirit was the sanctifier, and God did not sanctify apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, it must be the sanctifying work of the Spirit that made him God because this work made him a divine person. (Misc 624) This is further explained in Miscellany 709, which is a short exposition of John 5:36. Christ showed in the words of that verse how he, a man, could be the Son of God, and how his manhood could be united to the deity. Again, Edwards emphasizes the idea of sanctification, and the reference to being sent into the world is taken by Edwards to be an allusion to the incarnation.
In the words of Edwards, in his conception, Christ ‘received his first being in this world by the Spirit of holiness.’ The Spirit assumed Christ’s flesh into being and into the person of the divine Logos. In the same act the Father sent Christ into the world. The incarnation ‘was assuming flesh, or human nature, into the person of the Son, or giving communion of the divine personality to human nature, in giving that human nature being.’ The ‘divine personality’ was the eternal Son. It was not the making of the human nature of Christ that was sending Christ into the world. Christ was sent into the world through the communication of the eternal Son with Christ’s human nature. The Holy Spirit, the one who created the humanity of Christ, ‘acted as the principle of union’ between the divine and the human. Edwards suggests that ‘assuming is the making of the human nature’ but it is also the act that unites the ‘Christ’ with the person of the Son. The uniting act is also a creating act. Edwards also includes a sentence which opens a link to the thought of the Puritan thinker John Owen:
In his dissertation Bush notes that Owen and Edwards differed in their understanding of the incarnation of Jesus Christ. (Bush: 175, 176) A comparison of the language used by the two writers appears to confirm this difference. However the thought of Edwards might be closer to Owen’s than Bush allows. Owen does stress that the incarnating act of the Son on Christ’s human nature was immediate, and that this act caused the personal union of the human and divine natures of Christ. (Owen 119) However this comment is in the context of Owen’s explanation of the work of the Holy Spirit on the human nature of Christ. The overall description is that the Holy Spirit is the agent of all the external operations of God upon Christ’s human nature. And the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Son. (Owen 120) So the only difference between Edwards and Owen is that Owen states the Son’s active contribution in the work of the incarnation, whereas in Edwards the Son or the Logos takes on a passive role in the work, sharing in it in so far as the external works of the trinity are indivisible. Both Edwards and Owen are agreed that the union is between Christ’s human nature and God’s Logos or Son.
If the Father and the Holy Spirit were involved in the incarnation it should be obvious that the Son was too. Although the Spirit christology of Edwards has been emphasised by recent studies, an overwhelming number of references demonstrate that Edwards was orthodox in the idea that the pre-existent Christ became incarnate.
Bibliography
Bush, M. D. 2003 'Jesus Christ in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards.' Ph.D. diss., Princeton Theological Seminary.
Lee, S.H. (ed) 2005 The Princeton Companion to Jonathan Edwards. Princeton: Princeton University Press
Misc http://edwards.yale.edu/archive/
Owen http://www.ccel.org/ccel/owen/pneum.html
There are two aspects to describing Edwards and his views on the person of Christ. The first is to assume that the typical Reformed and Puritan doctrines of the person of Christ underlie the writings of Edwards. Although this is a necessary assumption it should not be taken to mean that Edwards developed ideas with consequences consistent with his own (orthodox) tradition. It is certainly true that Edwards intended to be orthodox. (Bush 7) But some of his writings display ideas that sit uneasily with this orthodoxy.
Sometimes Edwards states orthodox views about the division of attributes in the person of Christ. So, for example, it is always the human nature of Christ that suffers. Edwards wanted to retain the impassibility of God. For example, in his sermon, ‘The Excellency of Christ’, Edwards made distinctions between Christ’s human and divine characteristics. He claimed that only Christ’s person within the Trinity was the proper owner of humility as a predicate. That quality did not belong to the infinite glory of non- or un-incarnate deity. (Bush 187-189) However, Miscellany 487 includes such thoughts as Christ, the man, enjoying consciousness of ‘the glory and blessedness the Logos had, in the knowledge and enjoyment of the Father before the world was,’ and also awareness of relating to the Father as the only begotten Son. This can barely be defended within a Chalcedonian framework that defines the strict separation between divine and human natures in the one Jesus Christ.
Second, it is necessary to recognize these developments. Perhaps the most significant is the role of the Holy Spirit in Edwards’s account of the hypostatic union. This, and other innovations, suggest that the theology of Edwards has yet to be fully appropriated by contemporary theologians who claim to value his legacy. Or, perhaps, they simply illustrate that Christian theology can never fully incorporate all the ideas of one theologian in its historical development. According to Edwards the incarnation of Jesus Christ is the work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. But, of course, it is the Son who is incarnate.
In Miscellany 958 Edwards describes how the work of creation has been the special work of God the Son, that is, Christ. But, there is a peculiar discussion of the creation of Christ’s human nature: ‘And there is but one thing that is created that is more immediately the work of God the Father, and that is the human nature of Christ, and that both in its old and new creation.’ The Father works to bring about the creation of Christ’s body. Edwards refers to a list of New Testament passages that mention the Father’s influence on Christ, including his giving Christ the fullness of the Holy Spirit. The resurrection, or the continuation, of Christ’s nature in the newness of the new creation is also a work of the Father. Not only does the Father raise Christ’s body from the dead, but he exalts Christ to a place of honor in the heavenly kingdom. However Edwards states that even the creation of Christ’s human nature is a work of the Son:
Though the creation of the human nature of Christ ben't by Christ economically, or don't especially belong to him as a work appointed him in the order constituted among the persons of the Trinity, with respect to their operations and actions ad extra , yet 'tis true the creation of the human nature of Christ is not without the Son, as all the persons of the Trinity do concur in all acts ad extra -as the creation of the world and raising the bodies of saints, etc., are especially the work of the Son of God in his economical office, but yet they are not done without the Father, and are often ascribed to the Father. The Father and the Son produce the same works, John 5:17, 19-21.For Edwards the Father has an intimate relation with Christ, so that strict theological definitions of the relationship between divine and human qualities become stretched. Christ is the source of all things but he himself originates from the Father: ‘All things are from him as God-man, but he him[self] as God-man is from the Father.’ Since the person of the God-man is from the Father, so everything about him comes from the Father.
Passages like Miscellany 958 have been used to query assumptions about the christology of Edwards. An assumption about the theology of Edwards might be the nature of the personal union of divine and human natures in the person of Jesus Christ. Bush highlights the role of the Holy Spirit in effecting and sustaining the union between the Son of God and the human nature of Christ. This role is attributed to the Holy Spirit by Edwards in a number of Miscellanies. Bush suggests that Edwards is unique in explaining the unity of the person of Christ in this way. (Bush 178)
Edwards argued from Scripture that Christ’s union with the Godhead is through the Holy Spirit, and his reasoning could be painfully logical. The sanctifying work of the Father is alluded to by Jesus in John 10:36. But, since the Holy Spirit was the sanctifier, and God did not sanctify apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, it must be the sanctifying work of the Spirit that made him God because this work made him a divine person. (Misc 624) This is further explained in Miscellany 709, which is a short exposition of John 5:36. Christ showed in the words of that verse how he, a man, could be the Son of God, and how his manhood could be united to the deity. Again, Edwards emphasizes the idea of sanctification, and the reference to being sent into the world is taken by Edwards to be an allusion to the incarnation.
In the words of Edwards, in his conception, Christ ‘received his first being in this world by the Spirit of holiness.’ The Spirit assumed Christ’s flesh into being and into the person of the divine Logos. In the same act the Father sent Christ into the world. The incarnation ‘was assuming flesh, or human nature, into the person of the Son, or giving communion of the divine personality to human nature, in giving that human nature being.’ The ‘divine personality’ was the eternal Son. It was not the making of the human nature of Christ that was sending Christ into the world. Christ was sent into the world through the communication of the eternal Son with Christ’s human nature. The Holy Spirit, the one who created the humanity of Christ, ‘acted as the principle of union’ between the divine and the human. Edwards suggests that ‘assuming is the making of the human nature’ but it is also the act that unites the ‘Christ’ with the person of the Son. The uniting act is also a creating act. Edwards also includes a sentence which opens a link to the thought of the Puritan thinker John Owen:
Whatever Christ assumes into union to himself must be by that person that acts as the principle of union; and therefore, when something was to be assumed out of nothing into union to himself, the Logos or Word sent forth this constituent, or principle of assumption or unition, to assume it out of nothing to himself.Although the Holy Spirit assumed Christ’s human nature into the Son it was the Son who sent out the Spirit to form the union. The logic of Edwards at this point seems to be a defense against adoptionism. Because the Spirit created the humanity of Christ there could be no division between that creation and the hypostatic union without Christ’s humanity being impersonal for a time. The person of Christ depended on the personal union between the divine Son and the human nature. Edwards remains in the anhypostatic tradition articulated by John Owen and other Reformed theologians.
(Misc 709)
In his dissertation Bush notes that Owen and Edwards differed in their understanding of the incarnation of Jesus Christ. (Bush: 175, 176) A comparison of the language used by the two writers appears to confirm this difference. However the thought of Edwards might be closer to Owen’s than Bush allows. Owen does stress that the incarnating act of the Son on Christ’s human nature was immediate, and that this act caused the personal union of the human and divine natures of Christ. (Owen 119) However this comment is in the context of Owen’s explanation of the work of the Holy Spirit on the human nature of Christ. The overall description is that the Holy Spirit is the agent of all the external operations of God upon Christ’s human nature. And the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Son. (Owen 120) So the only difference between Edwards and Owen is that Owen states the Son’s active contribution in the work of the incarnation, whereas in Edwards the Son or the Logos takes on a passive role in the work, sharing in it in so far as the external works of the trinity are indivisible. Both Edwards and Owen are agreed that the union is between Christ’s human nature and God’s Logos or Son.
If the Father and the Holy Spirit were involved in the incarnation it should be obvious that the Son was too. Although the Spirit christology of Edwards has been emphasised by recent studies, an overwhelming number of references demonstrate that Edwards was orthodox in the idea that the pre-existent Christ became incarnate.
Bibliography
Bush, M. D. 2003 'Jesus Christ in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards.' Ph.D. diss., Princeton Theological Seminary.
Lee, S.H. (ed) 2005 The Princeton Companion to Jonathan Edwards. Princeton: Princeton University Press
Misc http://edwards.yale.edu/archive/
Owen http://www.ccel.org/ccel/owen/pneum.html
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Edwards Paper: part 1
In Book III of Institutes of the Christian Religion John Calvin defined his understanding of faith. Calvin described saving faith as ‘a firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence toward us,’ which affected both the head and the heart of the believer. This faith was based on the promise given in the Word of God in Jesus Christ, and it was ‘sealed’ through the internal work of the Holy Spirit in the heart. Calvin refused to separate the heart from the brain, or the disposition from the understanding. True faith combined intellectual assent with ‘devout disposition.’ Faith rested upon the knowledge of Christ, and Christ could not be known apart from the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. (Calvin: 551-553)
Calvin’s definition of faith has influenced a long tradition in Reformed theology reflecting on the nature of Christian assurance. Christian pastors and theologians have wrestled with the implications of Calvin’s apparent suggestion that saving faith is certain: ‘faith is a knowledge of the divine benevolence toward us and a sure persuasion of its truth.’ (Calvin: 556) In the same section of Institutes Calvin denies the distinction between formed and unformed faith he found in the works of Lombard and Aquinas. He admits that something resembling faith, a ‘shadow or image of faith,’ can and often does exist within the non-elect, the reprobate. They are ‘sometimes affected by almost the same feeling as the elect, so that even in their own judgment they do not in any way differ from the elect.’ (Calvin: 555)
The theological reflections of Jonathan Edwards on his ministry in the 1730s and early 1740s wrestle with the same questions raised by Calvin’s comments on the nature of saving faith and assurance. Or, at least, a reading of the works of Edwards from this period can be enriched by placing them in the context of the quest for assurance among Protestant Christians in the 17th and 18th centuries. In at least one place in his writings, Edwards hints at a definition of saving faith that resonates with Calvin’s own definition: ‘He that has true faith is convinced of the reality and the certainty of the great things of religion…’ (Charity: 230) And yet a substantial part of Edwards’ theological writing from this period is an ongoing evaluation of the practical realities of such a well defined and certain understanding of saving Christian faith. Although this paper will not be concerned with the history of Jonathan Edwards and his ministry, it is interesting that Edwards had such problems and difficulties as a minister during the same period. Perhaps Edwards was unable to apply the consequences of his theological reflections. Perhaps the reason for the departure of Edwards from Northampton in the late 1740s was theological as much as it was practical or political. One interesting note from an older biography of Edwards comments on the lack of assurance that his close followers in Christian ministry, Nathaniel Emmons and Samuel Hopkins, experienced throughout their lives. If Emmons and Hopkins remained uncertain of their conversion how could other Christians expect to meet the Edwards standard of Christian assurance? (Allen: 231)
In The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God published in 1741, Edwards provided one of his first widely read attempts to describe the differences between true and false Christian religious experience. William Cooper, in his preface to the work, wrote of how Edwards drew on Scripture, reason and experience for his arguments. This is an early and interesting use of three words that are now commonly understood as labeling three sources for theology. Edwards based his text on 1 John 4:1: ‘Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world’, and he restricted his use of Scripture in the book by concentrating on the teaching contained in 1 John 4. (Marks: 88) From the first paragraph of the book, Edwards warns about the need for rules in the church to identify true works of God. Rules are required because of the work of the devil, who produces copies of all the different types of work of the Spirit of God. In the second paragraph of the book, Edwards mentions ‘the indwelling of the Spirit, as the sure evidence of an interest in Christ,’ (Marks: 86). Edwards is both modern and traditional in his approach. He wrestles with real events and experiences of a spiritual nature. But he struggles to break away from the language that had come to dominate his Christian community. Edwards, at this stage at least in his career, is unable to leave aside his Reformed and Puritan heritage as he describes practical piety and associated theological questions.
The first part of Distinguishing Marks is a list of things that do not provide evidence against a real work of the Spirit of God. Unusual and extraordinary occurrences do not rule out God’s working in a situation. Here Edwards is probably defending the events of revival that he had experienced in his ministry in the 1730s. He even suggests that the last and final great work of God ‘in the latter ages of the world’ will be extraordinary. This is interesting because in a series of lectures delivered in 1738 based on 1 Corinthians 13, Edwards suggested that the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit given to the church in the New Testament period could not be assumed to appear again during ‘the glory of the latter times of the Church,’. (Charity: 45) The reason Edwards gives for this is that in those latter times ‘there is no dispensation to be introduced, and no new Bible to be given.’ (Charity: 47)
What, then, were these unusual and extraordinary occurrences that did not rule out a work of God? In the second category Edwards begins to answer this question. Effects on the bodies of people, such as tears, trembling, groans, faintings, and other ‘agonies of body’ could not be used one way or the other to judge if a work was from God or not. Edwards seems to be ambivalent about such things ‘because the Scripture nowhere gives us any such rule’ for testing in this area. Moreover, Edwards asks if anyone could be ‘so foolish as from hence to ague that in whomsoever these things appear, their convictions are not from the Spirit of God?’ But Edwards builds into his argument the use of reason and experience. There is no ‘need of express scripture for every external, accidental manifestation of the inward motion of the mind,’ and, citing the example of the jailer in Acts 16, there is general reason to believe that such effects on the body do accompany the work of the Spirit. (Marks: 93)
In a later heading of things that do not rule out a work of God, Edwards adds mental effects to physical effects. Great impressions on the imagination are not an evidence against the work of the Spirit of God. Defining the idea of imagination is extremely difficult, as is understanding the use of the term in the writings of Edwards. Lee refers to the definition that Edwards gives in The Religious Affections, and he carefully distinguishes old and modern uses of the word. He also suggests that the language Edwards used could not really express his actual thinking clearly. (Lee 2000: 126, 127) This has been noted in a growing number of academic reflections on the nature of language and imagination in the thought of Edwards. Within the limits of Christian orthodoxy Edwards, perhaps prefiguring the work of Coleridge, tried to move beyond his Puritan context to describe the limitless truth of God’s work in the lives of Christian individuals. (Piggin and Cook: 407) The Christian imagination, or, perhaps more accurately God’s use of human imagination, was one area for Edwards to use, develop and explore in his explanations of pastoral work in times of revival.
Experience and imagination were important for Edwards. Indeed Edwards makes an appeal to the experience of human nature in this regard: ‘we cannot think of things invisible without a degree of imagination.’ (Marks: 96) While Edwards recognized the difference between ‘that which is imaginary and that which is intellectual and spiritual,’ he made the astonishing claim that it appeared to him manifest ‘in many instances with which I have been acquainted, that God has really made use of this faculty to truly divine purposes; especially in some that are more ignorant.’ (Marks: 96) This one sentence opens up the complexity of Edwards and his thinking about God’s action in the world, and human experience of that action. How does Edwards understand spirituality when he thinks of it in distinction to imagination and in conjunction with ‘that which is intellectual’? How comprehensive must the sovereignty of God be for Edwards, when God can use imagination to reach those who do not or cannot understand the ‘ordinary’ word of God?
In the same way, Edwards defends following the example of others as one way in which people experience the work of the Spirit of God in their lives: ‘it is no valid objection against examples being so much used that the Scripture speaks of the word as the principal means of carrying on God’s work;’ (Marks: 99). ‘It is the word of God that is indeed held forth and applied by example.’ (Marks: 100) The use of the word of God to uphold and explain these categories is metaphysical. For Edwards the word of God in some metaphysical way grounds and transcends even the spiritual and the intellectual aspects of knowing God. Perhaps there is even a hint that Edwards understood the word of God as transcending Scripture itself.
The final four headings marking things that do not rule out a work of the Spirit of God are all associated with morality and the law. People associated in general with such a work of God can be guilty of ‘great imprudences and irregularities in their conduct.’ (Marks: 101) Errors of judgment and delusions of Satan can be intermixed with work that is from the Spirit of God. (Marks: 103) When people fall away into gross errors and scandalous practices this need not be evidence against the general work being from God. (Mark: 104) And it is not against a work of the Spirit of God that ‘the terrors of God’s holy law’ are emphasized. (Marks: 106) Edwards sums up this final point: ‘(t)he gospel is to be preached as well as the law, and the law is to be preached only to make way for the gospel, and in order that it may be preached more effectually.’ (Marks: 107)
Calvin’s definition of faith has influenced a long tradition in Reformed theology reflecting on the nature of Christian assurance. Christian pastors and theologians have wrestled with the implications of Calvin’s apparent suggestion that saving faith is certain: ‘faith is a knowledge of the divine benevolence toward us and a sure persuasion of its truth.’ (Calvin: 556) In the same section of Institutes Calvin denies the distinction between formed and unformed faith he found in the works of Lombard and Aquinas. He admits that something resembling faith, a ‘shadow or image of faith,’ can and often does exist within the non-elect, the reprobate. They are ‘sometimes affected by almost the same feeling as the elect, so that even in their own judgment they do not in any way differ from the elect.’ (Calvin: 555)
The theological reflections of Jonathan Edwards on his ministry in the 1730s and early 1740s wrestle with the same questions raised by Calvin’s comments on the nature of saving faith and assurance. Or, at least, a reading of the works of Edwards from this period can be enriched by placing them in the context of the quest for assurance among Protestant Christians in the 17th and 18th centuries. In at least one place in his writings, Edwards hints at a definition of saving faith that resonates with Calvin’s own definition: ‘He that has true faith is convinced of the reality and the certainty of the great things of religion…’ (Charity: 230) And yet a substantial part of Edwards’ theological writing from this period is an ongoing evaluation of the practical realities of such a well defined and certain understanding of saving Christian faith. Although this paper will not be concerned with the history of Jonathan Edwards and his ministry, it is interesting that Edwards had such problems and difficulties as a minister during the same period. Perhaps Edwards was unable to apply the consequences of his theological reflections. Perhaps the reason for the departure of Edwards from Northampton in the late 1740s was theological as much as it was practical or political. One interesting note from an older biography of Edwards comments on the lack of assurance that his close followers in Christian ministry, Nathaniel Emmons and Samuel Hopkins, experienced throughout their lives. If Emmons and Hopkins remained uncertain of their conversion how could other Christians expect to meet the Edwards standard of Christian assurance? (Allen: 231)
In The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God published in 1741, Edwards provided one of his first widely read attempts to describe the differences between true and false Christian religious experience. William Cooper, in his preface to the work, wrote of how Edwards drew on Scripture, reason and experience for his arguments. This is an early and interesting use of three words that are now commonly understood as labeling three sources for theology. Edwards based his text on 1 John 4:1: ‘Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world’, and he restricted his use of Scripture in the book by concentrating on the teaching contained in 1 John 4. (Marks: 88) From the first paragraph of the book, Edwards warns about the need for rules in the church to identify true works of God. Rules are required because of the work of the devil, who produces copies of all the different types of work of the Spirit of God. In the second paragraph of the book, Edwards mentions ‘the indwelling of the Spirit, as the sure evidence of an interest in Christ,’ (Marks: 86). Edwards is both modern and traditional in his approach. He wrestles with real events and experiences of a spiritual nature. But he struggles to break away from the language that had come to dominate his Christian community. Edwards, at this stage at least in his career, is unable to leave aside his Reformed and Puritan heritage as he describes practical piety and associated theological questions.
The first part of Distinguishing Marks is a list of things that do not provide evidence against a real work of the Spirit of God. Unusual and extraordinary occurrences do not rule out God’s working in a situation. Here Edwards is probably defending the events of revival that he had experienced in his ministry in the 1730s. He even suggests that the last and final great work of God ‘in the latter ages of the world’ will be extraordinary. This is interesting because in a series of lectures delivered in 1738 based on 1 Corinthians 13, Edwards suggested that the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit given to the church in the New Testament period could not be assumed to appear again during ‘the glory of the latter times of the Church,’. (Charity: 45) The reason Edwards gives for this is that in those latter times ‘there is no dispensation to be introduced, and no new Bible to be given.’ (Charity: 47)
What, then, were these unusual and extraordinary occurrences that did not rule out a work of God? In the second category Edwards begins to answer this question. Effects on the bodies of people, such as tears, trembling, groans, faintings, and other ‘agonies of body’ could not be used one way or the other to judge if a work was from God or not. Edwards seems to be ambivalent about such things ‘because the Scripture nowhere gives us any such rule’ for testing in this area. Moreover, Edwards asks if anyone could be ‘so foolish as from hence to ague that in whomsoever these things appear, their convictions are not from the Spirit of God?’ But Edwards builds into his argument the use of reason and experience. There is no ‘need of express scripture for every external, accidental manifestation of the inward motion of the mind,’ and, citing the example of the jailer in Acts 16, there is general reason to believe that such effects on the body do accompany the work of the Spirit. (Marks: 93)
In a later heading of things that do not rule out a work of God, Edwards adds mental effects to physical effects. Great impressions on the imagination are not an evidence against the work of the Spirit of God. Defining the idea of imagination is extremely difficult, as is understanding the use of the term in the writings of Edwards. Lee refers to the definition that Edwards gives in The Religious Affections, and he carefully distinguishes old and modern uses of the word. He also suggests that the language Edwards used could not really express his actual thinking clearly. (Lee 2000: 126, 127) This has been noted in a growing number of academic reflections on the nature of language and imagination in the thought of Edwards. Within the limits of Christian orthodoxy Edwards, perhaps prefiguring the work of Coleridge, tried to move beyond his Puritan context to describe the limitless truth of God’s work in the lives of Christian individuals. (Piggin and Cook: 407) The Christian imagination, or, perhaps more accurately God’s use of human imagination, was one area for Edwards to use, develop and explore in his explanations of pastoral work in times of revival.
Experience and imagination were important for Edwards. Indeed Edwards makes an appeal to the experience of human nature in this regard: ‘we cannot think of things invisible without a degree of imagination.’ (Marks: 96) While Edwards recognized the difference between ‘that which is imaginary and that which is intellectual and spiritual,’ he made the astonishing claim that it appeared to him manifest ‘in many instances with which I have been acquainted, that God has really made use of this faculty to truly divine purposes; especially in some that are more ignorant.’ (Marks: 96) This one sentence opens up the complexity of Edwards and his thinking about God’s action in the world, and human experience of that action. How does Edwards understand spirituality when he thinks of it in distinction to imagination and in conjunction with ‘that which is intellectual’? How comprehensive must the sovereignty of God be for Edwards, when God can use imagination to reach those who do not or cannot understand the ‘ordinary’ word of God?
In the same way, Edwards defends following the example of others as one way in which people experience the work of the Spirit of God in their lives: ‘it is no valid objection against examples being so much used that the Scripture speaks of the word as the principal means of carrying on God’s work;’ (Marks: 99). ‘It is the word of God that is indeed held forth and applied by example.’ (Marks: 100) The use of the word of God to uphold and explain these categories is metaphysical. For Edwards the word of God in some metaphysical way grounds and transcends even the spiritual and the intellectual aspects of knowing God. Perhaps there is even a hint that Edwards understood the word of God as transcending Scripture itself.
The final four headings marking things that do not rule out a work of the Spirit of God are all associated with morality and the law. People associated in general with such a work of God can be guilty of ‘great imprudences and irregularities in their conduct.’ (Marks: 101) Errors of judgment and delusions of Satan can be intermixed with work that is from the Spirit of God. (Marks: 103) When people fall away into gross errors and scandalous practices this need not be evidence against the general work being from God. (Mark: 104) And it is not against a work of the Spirit of God that ‘the terrors of God’s holy law’ are emphasized. (Marks: 106) Edwards sums up this final point: ‘(t)he gospel is to be preached as well as the law, and the law is to be preached only to make way for the gospel, and in order that it may be preached more effectually.’ (Marks: 107)
Friday, April 06, 2007
The Familiar Stranger
The Familiar Stranger: an account by a former cynic. A sermon based on Luke 4:21-30.
Jesus began by saying to them, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips. "Isn't this Joseph's son?" they asked. Jesus said to them, "Surely you will quote this proverb to me: 'Physician, heal yourself! Do here in your hometown what we have heard that you did in Capernaum.' " "I tell you the truth," he continued, "no prophet is accepted in his hometown. I assure you that there were many widows in Israel in Elijah's time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon. And there were many in Israel with leprosy in the time of Elisha the prophet, yet not one of them was cleansed—only Naaman the Syrian." All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this. They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him down the cliff. But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way.
The day Jesus came back, he was a like familiar stranger to us. We’d heard about his teaching, how he gripped and amazed people with the power and the clarity of his preaching. We’d heard about his way of reading the Scriptures, bringing them to life in a way the other teachers never could do. We were told that hearing Jesus was like hearing a prophet speak the very word of God. The sayings of Jesus were already legendary, they were already catchphrases in all the towns of Galilee. But it wasn’t just amazing teaching that marked Jesus out from the others. He had power, apparently. He healed people, so we were told. We’d heard about Simon’s mother-in-law cured of her fever. He even had control over demons, so it was claimed. We’d heard about the demon possessed man at Capernaum.
The day Jesus came back, we expected to see and hear great things. We expected Jesus to preach and speak with the same power and the same passion we’d heard about. We expected Jesus to perform great works of healing, to demonstrate that his words could be matched by his actions. After all, actions speak more loudly than words. And in the synagogue Jesus certainly showed us how well he could speak. He amazed us. Not with his insights. Not with the craft of his sermon. We were amazed by his assurance, and by his claims about fulfilling the Scriptures. Jesus believed that the day of the Lord’s favor had arrived! He believed that he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord, that he was bringing in the kingdom.
The day Jesus came back, we remembered Jesus as a boy. We remembered how well Jesus had been to us friend, colleague, member of the local community. We remembered how he worked with Joseph, how he had learned the family business. We remembered how diligent he was in everything. We remembered then how he grew in wisdom and in good reputation. We remembered our surprise and our shock on the day he left us, on the day he quietly left town to seek out John the Baptist. We were surprised, but we had no right to be surprised. Although we were familiar with Jesus, even then he was a stranger to us. We just didn’t realize how strange he was, he different, how set apart, how holy he was compared to us. And yet, he was so familiar. We’d grown up with him, we’d gone to school with him, we’d played with him, boys growing and sharing, fighting and jesting. We had no right to be surprised. Jesus was a familiar stranger all along.
The day Jesus came back, we were surprised to hear him rebuke us. We were so angry, we almost threw him over the cliff to his death. You might think that Jesus was stirring things up, that he was out to cause controversy, that he had some chip on his shoulder, a tragic psychological flaw against his home town, against his roots. Maybe the quiet boy secretly loathed and hated his small town upbringing. Maybe getting out of Nazareth had always been his aim, and now that he was back, now that he was somebody, he could express his true feelings against the town that had failed to recognize his true nature, his true character, and his true destiny. But that would be the cynic’s take on the story, the blind man’s view of Christ’s history.
The day Jesus came back, we really did think he needed help. Some of us really thought he’d lost it. We couldn’t piece together the jigsaw puzzle. How could this man be the same man we knew for all those years as a boy, as a young adult? Why did he not perform any miracles here? How was he able to pierce our minds and our hearts with his remarks? With his self-awareness? He compared himself to the prophets. We thought he was mad. The people tried to kill the prophets. We tried to kill Jesus. In doing so, we fulfilled his words. In doing so, we vindicated his claims.
The day Jesus came back, he walked away from us. He actually walked through us as he walked away from us. He’d seen through us in the synagogue, and we couldn’t handle it. He’d disappointed us, and so we tried to destroy him. But for all our rage against him, he remained untouchable, indestructible. He exercised his power in walking away from us, and yet, for a time, most of us didn’t get it. We couldn’t see that his demonstration of power that day was not through miraculous healings. It was through restraining grace. It was through a meekness that defied simple explanation. Had we killed him where would we be now? Had he retaliated would we be alive today?
The day Jesus came back, I never thought I’d end up calling him Lord. He was Joseph’s son, so I thought! His reputation for preaching and teaching and works of power seemed to us phony. For months after that day we all held him in contempt. He had rejected us, he had mocked us, he had spurned us, so we felt. Now I see it the other way around . We rejected him. We mocked him. We spurned him. When we heard about his execution, few of us were surprised, and some of us were actually pleased. He got what he deserved! When I started to hear the reports of his resurrection I was angry at first. How could this be true? How could he have so brainwashed people, that they made him into some kind of god?
The day Jesus came back, I started out on a new journey. The familiar stranger had returned to show himself to us again. He lodged himself in my consciousness. My anger and my rage, my insecurities and my fears, were all brought to the surface in seeing Jesus again. My hope in God was shown to be confused. I had no sense of God’s ways in the world. I didn’t know that God’s servant had to be a suffering servant. I didn’t then realize that I was the cause and the reason for his suffering. He suffered my rage and my abuse that day on the edge of the cliff. On that other day he suffered again to the depths, falling over the edge into the pit. He who had no sin became sin so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. Jesus died on the cross for my sins, just as the scriptures taught, the scriptures that he had taught with such power.
I wont see Jesus again until the day he comes back. Nobody will have the option of rejecting him then. He’ll be here to stay. He’ll be here for good. Love him or loathe him we will all bow the knee to him. Don’t be a stranger to Jesus when he comes back! Get to know him now. Now is the time of salvation, the age of opportunity.
When Jesus comes back he will not be a stranger to me. Rather, he will be strangely familiar. I will see the marks on his body, those marks of his suffering. I will recognise his frame, his silhouette, his features, his looks. But, for the first time ever, I will see him as he really is. I will see his goodness. I will see his grace, and his power in meekness and majesty. I will understand why his history, his life story, had to be the way it was. I will welcome him as friend, as Lord, as Saviour. I will start to enjoy the freedom and the new life that he proclaimed that day in the synagogue. I will begin to know him as he is, and forever in his presence I will grow familiar with his ways. I will no longer be a stranger to his grace. Together with all his people I will share in his reign of love and peace over the new humanity, that new world where every face is familiar, and no face is a stranger.
‘Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’
Jesus began by saying to them, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips. "Isn't this Joseph's son?" they asked. Jesus said to them, "Surely you will quote this proverb to me: 'Physician, heal yourself! Do here in your hometown what we have heard that you did in Capernaum.' " "I tell you the truth," he continued, "no prophet is accepted in his hometown. I assure you that there were many widows in Israel in Elijah's time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon. And there were many in Israel with leprosy in the time of Elisha the prophet, yet not one of them was cleansed—only Naaman the Syrian." All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this. They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him down the cliff. But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way.
The day Jesus came back, he was a like familiar stranger to us. We’d heard about his teaching, how he gripped and amazed people with the power and the clarity of his preaching. We’d heard about his way of reading the Scriptures, bringing them to life in a way the other teachers never could do. We were told that hearing Jesus was like hearing a prophet speak the very word of God. The sayings of Jesus were already legendary, they were already catchphrases in all the towns of Galilee. But it wasn’t just amazing teaching that marked Jesus out from the others. He had power, apparently. He healed people, so we were told. We’d heard about Simon’s mother-in-law cured of her fever. He even had control over demons, so it was claimed. We’d heard about the demon possessed man at Capernaum.
The day Jesus came back, we expected to see and hear great things. We expected Jesus to preach and speak with the same power and the same passion we’d heard about. We expected Jesus to perform great works of healing, to demonstrate that his words could be matched by his actions. After all, actions speak more loudly than words. And in the synagogue Jesus certainly showed us how well he could speak. He amazed us. Not with his insights. Not with the craft of his sermon. We were amazed by his assurance, and by his claims about fulfilling the Scriptures. Jesus believed that the day of the Lord’s favor had arrived! He believed that he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord, that he was bringing in the kingdom.
The day Jesus came back, we remembered Jesus as a boy. We remembered how well Jesus had been to us friend, colleague, member of the local community. We remembered how he worked with Joseph, how he had learned the family business. We remembered how diligent he was in everything. We remembered then how he grew in wisdom and in good reputation. We remembered our surprise and our shock on the day he left us, on the day he quietly left town to seek out John the Baptist. We were surprised, but we had no right to be surprised. Although we were familiar with Jesus, even then he was a stranger to us. We just didn’t realize how strange he was, he different, how set apart, how holy he was compared to us. And yet, he was so familiar. We’d grown up with him, we’d gone to school with him, we’d played with him, boys growing and sharing, fighting and jesting. We had no right to be surprised. Jesus was a familiar stranger all along.
The day Jesus came back, we were surprised to hear him rebuke us. We were so angry, we almost threw him over the cliff to his death. You might think that Jesus was stirring things up, that he was out to cause controversy, that he had some chip on his shoulder, a tragic psychological flaw against his home town, against his roots. Maybe the quiet boy secretly loathed and hated his small town upbringing. Maybe getting out of Nazareth had always been his aim, and now that he was back, now that he was somebody, he could express his true feelings against the town that had failed to recognize his true nature, his true character, and his true destiny. But that would be the cynic’s take on the story, the blind man’s view of Christ’s history.
The day Jesus came back, we really did think he needed help. Some of us really thought he’d lost it. We couldn’t piece together the jigsaw puzzle. How could this man be the same man we knew for all those years as a boy, as a young adult? Why did he not perform any miracles here? How was he able to pierce our minds and our hearts with his remarks? With his self-awareness? He compared himself to the prophets. We thought he was mad. The people tried to kill the prophets. We tried to kill Jesus. In doing so, we fulfilled his words. In doing so, we vindicated his claims.
The day Jesus came back, he walked away from us. He actually walked through us as he walked away from us. He’d seen through us in the synagogue, and we couldn’t handle it. He’d disappointed us, and so we tried to destroy him. But for all our rage against him, he remained untouchable, indestructible. He exercised his power in walking away from us, and yet, for a time, most of us didn’t get it. We couldn’t see that his demonstration of power that day was not through miraculous healings. It was through restraining grace. It was through a meekness that defied simple explanation. Had we killed him where would we be now? Had he retaliated would we be alive today?
The day Jesus came back, I never thought I’d end up calling him Lord. He was Joseph’s son, so I thought! His reputation for preaching and teaching and works of power seemed to us phony. For months after that day we all held him in contempt. He had rejected us, he had mocked us, he had spurned us, so we felt. Now I see it the other way around . We rejected him. We mocked him. We spurned him. When we heard about his execution, few of us were surprised, and some of us were actually pleased. He got what he deserved! When I started to hear the reports of his resurrection I was angry at first. How could this be true? How could he have so brainwashed people, that they made him into some kind of god?
The day Jesus came back, I started out on a new journey. The familiar stranger had returned to show himself to us again. He lodged himself in my consciousness. My anger and my rage, my insecurities and my fears, were all brought to the surface in seeing Jesus again. My hope in God was shown to be confused. I had no sense of God’s ways in the world. I didn’t know that God’s servant had to be a suffering servant. I didn’t then realize that I was the cause and the reason for his suffering. He suffered my rage and my abuse that day on the edge of the cliff. On that other day he suffered again to the depths, falling over the edge into the pit. He who had no sin became sin so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. Jesus died on the cross for my sins, just as the scriptures taught, the scriptures that he had taught with such power.
I wont see Jesus again until the day he comes back. Nobody will have the option of rejecting him then. He’ll be here to stay. He’ll be here for good. Love him or loathe him we will all bow the knee to him. Don’t be a stranger to Jesus when he comes back! Get to know him now. Now is the time of salvation, the age of opportunity.
When Jesus comes back he will not be a stranger to me. Rather, he will be strangely familiar. I will see the marks on his body, those marks of his suffering. I will recognise his frame, his silhouette, his features, his looks. But, for the first time ever, I will see him as he really is. I will see his goodness. I will see his grace, and his power in meekness and majesty. I will understand why his history, his life story, had to be the way it was. I will welcome him as friend, as Lord, as Saviour. I will start to enjoy the freedom and the new life that he proclaimed that day in the synagogue. I will begin to know him as he is, and forever in his presence I will grow familiar with his ways. I will no longer be a stranger to his grace. Together with all his people I will share in his reign of love and peace over the new humanity, that new world where every face is familiar, and no face is a stranger.
‘Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’
Friday, February 09, 2007
Book Review
Book Review: Re-Calling Ministry. James E Dittes.
‘…the discovery that the minister is mostly in a wilderness, that ministry is in that wilderness.’ (139.5)
I began reading this book with several thoughts about the prospect of studying pastoral care this semester. How much reference would there be to the life and ministry of Jesus Christ? Would I recognize the gospel in the readings? This book provided plenty of references to Jesus. I gave up noting references or allusions to him after reading page 63. (63.8) Yet I am not sure I recognised any descriptions of the gospel in this book. No doubt this reveals more about me than the book. However I did learn something about ministers of the gospel. Many passages confirm my growing conviction that, if God really does work in the world, the gospel of God is worked out through the weakness of men and women. I was also concerned by the way in which this book confirmed my doubts about the very role of one person as the pastor in one church. I have a theory that ordained pastoral ministry began to die with the success of the Reformation. My problem is that it has taken three years of ministry training for me to test that theory, a theory that became apparent on working closely with pastors and ministers in churches in Glasgow, Scotland. Congregations remain tied to the idea of one senior pastor.
I read the Editor’s Preface and the Foreword. These did not encourage me to continue reading. In the long list of identities in Dittes’ career Capps did not list church pastor, and in the rest of the book I could not find any evidence that Dittes had ever been the pastor of a church. The foreword discouraged me even more. It read like an apology for the masculine emphasis in the book. (4.3, 4.7, 4.8, 5.3, 5.4) Au contraire! The book is powerful because it has a masculine emphasis. My frustration with mainline denominations, in particular, Presbyterianism, is that decades of gender equality have made no noticeable impact on the shape of ministry and church government. Committees now have males and females but they perpetuate the same organisational frustrations that have ever stifled pastoral ministry. This book charts those problems in four parts. (The editor has done an astonishing work. I had to be reminded that the book was a compilation of articles and chapters from other works.)
The Prologue encouraged me greatly. There was a reference to JC almost immediately (10.3). I began to query his definition of ministry from the first paragraph: if ministry is about going to the people, why do ministers insist on church buildings for people to congregate within? Is there really such a thing as ‘the minister’ without structures? (10.5) I recognised the metaphor of sexual roles from my reading of another writer on this subject, Larry Crabb. (10.7) And I was amused by reading that I should always be concerned about my performance, about being up enough. (10.3) Physically, perhaps, but otherwise not.
Part One contained some of the best material I have read about the nature of Christian pastoral care and ministry. My only doubt was about the idea or role of ‘minister’/‘pastor’ that Dittes had in mind. Most of the material in the book seemed to assume a church context (e.g. 18, 19), or an acknowledgment of being in that role (as the examples in 72, 73 require). This assumption seemed to me quite dated. Perhaps this reflects my experience of Christian ministry in a country where the church is disappearing at an alarming rate. Ministry as grief work described ministry as an inevitable struggle, a calling to be shackled into new (not better) forms of ministry. (27.8)
Part Two continued this excellent, provocative material. Chapter 6, Thirty-eight Years on the Verge concluded with a section that made me consider the weakness of Dittes’s assumptions. I was left asking the question, ‘What is ministry?’ To write that events only find meaning in retrospect (82.7), and that we need to look for ministry in our life (82.9), is not peculiar to the life of Christian pastors. Indeed, why do I feel as if I need to look for ministry opportunities as a pastor? Why do I feel as if I need to be in the ‘real’ world again to really minister in my life?
Part Three (chaps 9-11) was puzzling for me. They confirmed my sense that Dittes and I have a different understanding of what a minister or pastor should be doing. This was especially true in chapter 9. I found it remarkable that Dittes did not understand why a pastor might need to give attention to administrative tasks. (108.3) Ministers do not choose to do the amount of administration that they do, contrary to the thoughts behind paragraph 114.8. Denominational structures and social constructs impose this work on ministers. The sharp polarity (112.3) between administration and other tasks a pastor must do, simply suggests to me that our current models of church pastor are misguided. Our denominations have messed up and confused pastoral ministry with ideas such as the role of chief executive or chief administrator officer. This is a major concern that few books I read ever recognize or analyze.
‘…the discovery that the minister is mostly in a wilderness, that ministry is in that wilderness.’ (139.5)
I began reading this book with several thoughts about the prospect of studying pastoral care this semester. How much reference would there be to the life and ministry of Jesus Christ? Would I recognize the gospel in the readings? This book provided plenty of references to Jesus. I gave up noting references or allusions to him after reading page 63. (63.8) Yet I am not sure I recognised any descriptions of the gospel in this book. No doubt this reveals more about me than the book. However I did learn something about ministers of the gospel. Many passages confirm my growing conviction that, if God really does work in the world, the gospel of God is worked out through the weakness of men and women. I was also concerned by the way in which this book confirmed my doubts about the very role of one person as the pastor in one church. I have a theory that ordained pastoral ministry began to die with the success of the Reformation. My problem is that it has taken three years of ministry training for me to test that theory, a theory that became apparent on working closely with pastors and ministers in churches in Glasgow, Scotland. Congregations remain tied to the idea of one senior pastor.
I read the Editor’s Preface and the Foreword. These did not encourage me to continue reading. In the long list of identities in Dittes’ career Capps did not list church pastor, and in the rest of the book I could not find any evidence that Dittes had ever been the pastor of a church. The foreword discouraged me even more. It read like an apology for the masculine emphasis in the book. (4.3, 4.7, 4.8, 5.3, 5.4) Au contraire! The book is powerful because it has a masculine emphasis. My frustration with mainline denominations, in particular, Presbyterianism, is that decades of gender equality have made no noticeable impact on the shape of ministry and church government. Committees now have males and females but they perpetuate the same organisational frustrations that have ever stifled pastoral ministry. This book charts those problems in four parts. (The editor has done an astonishing work. I had to be reminded that the book was a compilation of articles and chapters from other works.)
The Prologue encouraged me greatly. There was a reference to JC almost immediately (10.3). I began to query his definition of ministry from the first paragraph: if ministry is about going to the people, why do ministers insist on church buildings for people to congregate within? Is there really such a thing as ‘the minister’ without structures? (10.5) I recognised the metaphor of sexual roles from my reading of another writer on this subject, Larry Crabb. (10.7) And I was amused by reading that I should always be concerned about my performance, about being up enough. (10.3) Physically, perhaps, but otherwise not.
Part One contained some of the best material I have read about the nature of Christian pastoral care and ministry. My only doubt was about the idea or role of ‘minister’/‘pastor’ that Dittes had in mind. Most of the material in the book seemed to assume a church context (e.g. 18, 19), or an acknowledgment of being in that role (as the examples in 72, 73 require). This assumption seemed to me quite dated. Perhaps this reflects my experience of Christian ministry in a country where the church is disappearing at an alarming rate. Ministry as grief work described ministry as an inevitable struggle, a calling to be shackled into new (not better) forms of ministry. (27.8)
Part Two continued this excellent, provocative material. Chapter 6, Thirty-eight Years on the Verge concluded with a section that made me consider the weakness of Dittes’s assumptions. I was left asking the question, ‘What is ministry?’ To write that events only find meaning in retrospect (82.7), and that we need to look for ministry in our life (82.9), is not peculiar to the life of Christian pastors. Indeed, why do I feel as if I need to look for ministry opportunities as a pastor? Why do I feel as if I need to be in the ‘real’ world again to really minister in my life?
Part Three (chaps 9-11) was puzzling for me. They confirmed my sense that Dittes and I have a different understanding of what a minister or pastor should be doing. This was especially true in chapter 9. I found it remarkable that Dittes did not understand why a pastor might need to give attention to administrative tasks. (108.3) Ministers do not choose to do the amount of administration that they do, contrary to the thoughts behind paragraph 114.8. Denominational structures and social constructs impose this work on ministers. The sharp polarity (112.3) between administration and other tasks a pastor must do, simply suggests to me that our current models of church pastor are misguided. Our denominations have messed up and confused pastoral ministry with ideas such as the role of chief executive or chief administrator officer. This is a major concern that few books I read ever recognize or analyze.
Friday, November 03, 2006
One of the Family
One of the Family
A sermon for the Kirkin’ O’ the Tartans service
First Presbyterian Church, Beaufort, SC
A sermon for the Kirkin’ O’ the Tartans service
First Presbyterian Church, Beaufort, SC
October 29, 2006
I want to thank you for the invitation to take part in your Kirkin’ O’ the Tartan event, and I want to thank you for the welcome and hospitality that I’ve received. It’s a very exciting thing for me to be with you this morning. I’ve been in the States for about two months now. And even if the initial excitement is beginning to wear off, I’m still able to marvel at being in a new country, meeting lots of interesting people, and seeing lots of fascinating places.
I want to thank you for the invitation to take part in your Kirkin’ O’ the Tartan event, and I want to thank you for the welcome and hospitality that I’ve received. It’s a very exciting thing for me to be with you this morning. I’ve been in the States for about two months now. And even if the initial excitement is beginning to wear off, I’m still able to marvel at being in a new country, meeting lots of interesting people, and seeing lots of fascinating places.
Moving to a new place forces you to think about your identity. It forces you to reconsider your place in the world. When you are removed from a familiar place, and when you move away from family and friends, you learn things about yourself and about your previous home, that you can’t really appreciate otherwise.
Preparing for this sermon has been part of a significant learning experience that I’ve gone through in the last two months. Perhaps today marks the end of the beginning of my time in the land of the free!
I’m sure that some of you will know of Senate Resolution 155 (March 20th 1998):
this resolution honors the major role that Scottish Americans played in the founding of this Nation, such as the fact that almost half of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were of Scottish descent, the Governors in 9 of the original 13 States were of Scottish ancestry, Scottish Americans successfully helped shape this country in its formative years and guide this Nation through its most troubled times;
this resolution recognizes the monumental achievements and invaluable contributions made by Scottish Americans that have led to America's preeminence in the fields of science, technology, medicine, government, politics, economics, architecture, literature, media, and visual and performing arts;
It goes on to recognise April 6 as National Tartan Day. Today is not quite National Tartan Day. But we are gathered to remember and think about the influence of Scotland in our own lives, and in the life of the United States.
Before coming here, and before my invitation to be with you this morning, I had no idea that Scottish influence in America was quite so impressive. I only discovered Resolution 155 during my research for this sermon. Now I don’t want to get at all political. But I do want to suggest that the Senate resolution missed one really important Scottish influence in America’s history. There may be good and proper reason for the omission, but there is no reference at all to the religious or Christian influence that Scots brought to America.
Presbyterianism has influenced your country for good or bad way beyond its strength in numerical terms. One good aspect of that influence is its understanding of the nature of family life, and that’s what I want us to think about for the next few moments. What does historic Presbyterianism think about the family? Is there a model for Presbyterian family life?
You will all know Robert Burns, Scotland’s national bard. If, perhaps, you don’t know him, you will know at least one of his poems:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Burns was born in Ayrshire in 1759, just a few miles south of my own home town. Burns is a fascinating character, in many ways a tragic figure. He has been described as an 18thC Johnny Cash - a pop star poet whose poetry matched his personal life in all its extravagance and range of experience, the highs and the lows, the good and the not quite so good.
One of his best known poems is called The Cotter’s Saturday Night. A cotter was a tenant occupying a cottage and the land attached to it. In the poem, we are presented with a picture, a snap shot, of 18thC rural Scottish family life. The cotter arrives home from his work in the fields to a bustling house full of children, young and old. On the eve of the Sabbath the family gathers together for a meal:
With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet,
And each for other's weelfare kindly speirs:
The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet:
Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears.
We can take for granted that family is supposed to be a place where members are cared for, and provided for: there are many bible passages we could think about in that regard.
The apostle Paul, writing to his fellow worker, Timothy:
If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. 1Tim5:8
Paul seems to take for granted that people care naturally for their families.
Jesus himself, teaching his disciples, makes that assumption too, and relates it to God's care for us:
Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matt7:9
Burns had his problems with the Kirk - the Kirk certainly had problems with Burns. But there are two things that the life and poetry of Robert Burns point us to, two things that are rooted in our Presbyterian tradition of family life:
Family as a context for education
Don't you just love reading or hearing about the early life of famous people - how they were brought up, what their parents were like, the kind of school they went to… The early chapters in a biography are often the most interesting, the most revealing.
Robert Burns is no exception here, because we find two dominant influences. First, his father. William Burns sees to it that his son is given a liberal education. He organizes tutors for Robert, so that by the time Robert is a teenager he’s got a grounding in all kinds of literature. Burns is known for his Scottish poetry - but, if you read his letters, you find some of the finest 18thC English prose, writing on all sorts of hot issues of the day. Burns was a man of letters because his father made sure that he was educated.
But, no less did his mother contribute: Agnes Broun had a love for song, and a talent for melody. Burns was the poetic, lyrical master he was because his mother nurtured his talents, and inspired in him a love for song and words.
Education is a great theme in the history of Scotland from at least the time of the Reformation in the 16th century. The Reformers planned for schools in every parish, and one outcome was a level of literacy far higher than in other countries, notably England.
On old buildings in Scotland you will often see this symbolized. At the end of my street in Glasgow there is an old building, my guess is that it used to be a school. I think it’s been developed into apartments, but on the outside, above one of the upper windows, carved out of the stone, is the figure of a boy. What do you think he is doing? He’s not playing football, or soccer, or baseball - he’s sitting, legs crossed, with a book in his hands. The Scottish lad o’ pairts - academic talent spotted and nurtured for its own sake, and for the sake of the community as a whole. And it wasn’t just the talented that were taught. The aim was that all would have basic reading and writing skills.
Up until perhaps the middle of the twentieth century, Scotland was known for this emphasis. Alexander Fleming, the man who discovered penicillin, was born and brought up on a farm just outside my home town. As a boy he walked three or four miles each day to school! Education characterized Scotland as a nation, and the Church of Scotland was in a large part responsible for that emphasis.
That’s why Scotland, for such a small country, has made a hugely impressive contribution to the modern world. Space does not allow for a comprehensive list of the discoveries and inventions that have come from Scottish thinkers, scientists and engineers. But they were all the result of an emphasis on education. And the family was often the context for that emphasis.
But if family is a context for education, Presbyterianism also understands:
Family as a context for faith
Back to the The Cotter’s Saturday Night:
The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace,
The big ha'bible, ance his father's pride:
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets (grey side locks) wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says with solemn air.
The poem goes on to recount the reading of the Bible, the word of God, and after the reading, the man of the house leads the whole family in prayer. And after family worship, the older siblings return to their own homes, the younger children go to bed, and the mother and father pray in secret for the whole family:
Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way;
The youngling cottagers retire to rest:
The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
That he who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
For them and for their little ones provide;
But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
Family worship is not just a Scottish Presbyterian virtue, but possibly the Scottish Presbyterian tradition best typifies the idea that church is not the primary place where faith is learned - we learn most about faith from our families! What a difference to our Western church culture today, which is dominated with Christian education programs because of the lack of family-based teaching about Christianity.
A friend of mine, a Scottish Free Presbyterian, talks about this. The home is where the basics of the Bible are to be taught, the elementary things are learned from Mum and Dad. Sermons in his tradition are based on the assumption that everyone in the church already knows the basics.
That’s why we read Proverbs 1:8 -
Listen, my son, to your father's instruction and do not forsake your mother's teaching.
So, we have family as a context for education; and, family as a context for faith.
A Higher calling…
Did you notice the final verses in our New Testament reading?
Now Jesus' mother and brothers came to see him, but they were not able to get near him because of the crowd. Someone told him, "Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you." He replied, "My mother and brothers are those who hear God's word and put it into practice." Luke 8:19-21
What’s your response when you read or hear that story? Don’t you just cringe? Don’t you want to question Jesus? ‘Jesus, you can’t really mean it?’ 'Jesus, are you really saying that you put other people before your natural family?' Jesus challenges our cosy ideas of family life.
And we don’t need to work out the implications of these words, because later Jesus actually spells it out for us:
If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. Luke 14:26
What kind of faith is this? What kind of Christianity do we find in these words of Jesus?
Well, it is radical. Jesus calls us to a radical discipleship which puts the word of God before everything else, before every other commitment. He calls us to love him more than any other person in the world. And, yes, I think I need to say this too. Going back to Luke 8, Jesus calls us to love other Christians as if they were family. He calls us all to be one of the family of faith. He wants us to who know God as Father, himself as Saviour, and the Holy Spirit as our friend and comfort in this world.
Is there a tension in all this? Does this jar with your thinking, and with your normal values? Well, it would hardly be God’s word to us if it didn’t cause us to examine our way of life. That’s why we need to be reminded of these things. That’s why we need services like this, so that we can shake off our complacency, and keep seeking the good.
I want to leave you with a final question:
Could it be that our natural families become mini models of the wider family that Jesus had in mind when he spoke those words? Could it be that our families become families of the faithful, those who have heard the word of God, and obeyed?
Yes! It can be so! Today, through his word, Christ is calling us to himself, he is calling us to hear his word, and follow him. He is calling us to confirm our membership of God’s family, not least, so that we can be better family members in our homes.
And in case you think this is too idealistic, remember that Jesus knows fine well the issues involved. Never forget that Jesus himself lived in a big family. He knows the frustrations, the problems.
Listen to this: Jesus knows what it’s like to lose a father figure. And I’m not talking about Jesus crying out on the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.’ No, I’m talking about Jesus losing his step father, Joseph. It is very interesting that we don’t read about Joseph in the later years of the life of Jesus. I think I’m right in saying that the last we read of Joseph is in Luke 2, the story of Jesus remaining in the temple while his family return home.
So, in all likelihood, Jesus knew what it meant for a young family to lose their father. He would have carried the burden as the elder son in a family bereft of a father.
That’s the Jesus we follow, that’s the Jesus we adore. A Jesus who, though he was the Son of God, yet for our sakes he became poor, took on our human form, lived among us as one of us, died our death, rose victorious over death on the third day, and now he reigns as Lord - and he knows the value and the struggle of being one of the family.
Wont you trust him again this morning? Wont you thank him for his grace, and trust him for the future? May God bless us, and our families, as we trust and hope in his good will towards us. Amen
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