Book Review, Pt. 1: M. Daniel Carroll R.’s “Christians at the Border: Immigration, the Church, and the Bible”

At the Institute for Biblical Research (IBR) meeting this year, I acquired the book mentioned above (for free). Its title testifies to its relevance for the Conn blog, so we’ll do a multipart review, one post for each chapter. For my part, my parents-in-law work with Chinese immigrants, my younger brother works with Latinos/Latinas in IV in southwest Texas, and I live in NYC–just south of Washington Heights no less–and am constantly confronted with the causes and impact of immigration. So how Christians should think through this topic, particularly as citizens of a functioning republic, is something that’s frequently on my mind.

Immigration tends to be a polarizing issue both inside and outside the church no matter what your ethnic or citizen status and in my opinion, like politics, it is one for which we by-and-large lack the theological tools and ecclesiological framework to really address the subtleties of the problems involved, how to solve them, what the Church’s role should be, and how that should differ from the State’s (or really, States’). Therefore in my opinion serious books by Christians with expertise in Biblical studies, Theology, though especially Sociology, Politics, and Law are very much needed: people who not only understand the difficulties attendant in applying the ancient texts to modern circumstances which don’t overlap well, but also people who understand the modern circumstances well enough to know what kind of answers we should be looking for in the first place.

 

SBL Session on Sparks’ God’s Word in Human Words

Monday I returned from the SBL. My main reason for going was to visit friends, though I hoped to be inspired to new thoughts by some sessions. The latter was hit-or-miss (though mostly miss), though one of the more interesting sessions was on Kent Sparks’ recent book God’s Word in Human Words, which was heavily attended.

I’ve not read the book, though after the session think I’ll probably need to. The main point though, as most of you probably know already, is to present a case for a Christian approach to the Bible that takes much more seriously the advances of Biblical scholarship–i.e. by acknowledging that the Bible contains myth, composite texts, imbibes the historical/hermeneutical context of its day, and trying to find a sensible way of understanding “what the Bible is” and “what it’s purpose is” that makes sense of that.

Fascinating session for me on one front. All three respondents emphasized how good the book was, how necessary it was to fill an important gap, highly recommended it, etc. The only “major” criticism was Sparks tone which the respondents felt was a bit too forceful, though Sparks responded that he considered being softer, though felt that it would actually undermine the forcefulness with which he wanted his argument to be received, particularly by an evangelical audience that was prone to look for excuses to dismiss his argument altogether. I thought that was totally understandable. The sad thing is that some people will choose to dismiss him still because they’ll think he’s being a pretentious jerk and therefore not worth taking seriously (which is wrong: all the respondents said he presented the issues very judiciously). But honestly, this is an awfully lame criticism: it basically says that Christians are too sensitive to give an author the benefit of the doubt and hear what he has to say, and if that’s true to an extent, I think the blame falls more on the readers than the writer. Writers can’t constantly be worrying about that sort of thing and readers ought to know how to read judiciously and give a writer the benefit of the doubt and/or read through the tone.

Of the three respondents, two (Stephen Chapman and Bill Arnold) openly argued that from their perspective, it is a bit strange that Sparks holds onto inerrancy since the way he wants to use it empties the term of its practical value. That is, if you’re willing to admit there are both errors of fact and intent, as most scholars do, does “inerrancy” make sense as a descriptor? Bill Arnold then made a further observation from his Arminian standpoint that I found very interesting: he said that the whole question of trying to “save” inerrancy is strange because it’s never been a major issue for Arminians. According to him, they believe in Biblical authority, infallibility, etc., but they don’t think that for the Bible to ultimately accomplish its purpose for the church requires it to be perfectly “true” in the modern sense, nor that if it contains historical errors that it impugns God’s credibility. The Bible is true and effective in the sense that it accomplishes by God’s Spirit what He intends, not because it is subject to verifiability under a microscope. This point was fascinating to me because I didn’t realize the extent to which the pursuit of inerrancy was so varied. Arnold’s attitude very much reminded me of the one I often encountered while doing my MA and the Jewish Theological Seminary: for them, the starting assumption of why they read and use the Bible in religious life is that it’s from YHWH and is for His people; given that, the “problems” become puzzles to be solved rather than threats to faith.

I’m totally with Chapman and Arnold here. On the one hand, for a long time I’ve felt that if I’m willing to admit certain historical and textual problems, then continuing to call the Bible “inerrant” not only didn’t make much sense, but also made me sound duplicitous to those I explain my views to. Sparks defended his use of the term inerrancy, though his argument ultimately devolved into the claim that the Bible was inerrant in the sense that God superintended its writing, editing, etc., and was ultimately what he intended. For me, that’s perfectly fine: I’m jokingly fond of saying “I think God inerrantly inspired an errant Bible,” although that obviously doesn’t actually say anything about the factual content of the Bible (which I’m aware of when I say it). Rather than a claim of inerrancy, it is actually a claim about God’s providence; it’s a theological claim more than a bibliological one (if that’s a word). So incidentally, I don’t actually think Sparks, Chapman, or Arnold actually differ in what they actually think the Bible is, they’re differing only in the words they’re using to describe it.

A couple of points that I thought were important to draw from the discussion. First, people often refer to taking this line on the OT as a “low view of the Bible.” If anything, this session pointed out that the “low view”/”high view” distinction is a false one: the goal of the Christian is to properly understand God’s word, how it works, and how it applies to the Church throughout the ages. As such, there are right and wrong decisions, right and wrong beliefs, but not high and low ones. People like Arnold, Chapman, and Sparks aren’t saying the Bible is “low”; rather, they’re saying if these things are true, given that the Bible is God’s word, this is how we should read and use it.

Second, it is a category mistake to say–as some ignorant systematics profs have–that context can never be allowed to trump the Bible, or that choosing claims of scholarship is directly opposed to taking the Bible on its own terms. The fact of the matter is that interpretation always requires importing a context–whether we supply it unconsciously from our own life experience, whether we construct it from our own imaginations, or whether we try to supply it from our analyses of the worlds that gave birth to the documents. No matter what we do, we always sit in judgment over the texts we read; no matter we do, we are the arbiters of their meaning–even if along the way our study is attended by the work of the Holy Spirit.

 

Introduction to the Hebrew Bible by Christine Hayes

In keeping with my past post to the Ehrman v. Craig debate, I offer another link. This one is to a Prof. Christine Haye’s (Yale) undergraduate lectures for her course Introduction to the Hebrew Bible. These really are an excellent, lucid presentation of the major issues facing contemporary readers of the HB (Hayes is a brilliant communicator). But more pertinent to my previous post, these are the kind of lectures undergraduates at most universities receive, and which the vast majority of Christians have yet to seriously face or engage. What’s more, unlike some lecturers, Hayes doesn’t antagonize or degrade her believing students; rather, she by and large just states what she thinks and why.

One additional note. I think like Ehrman’s presentations, Hayes’ offers a helpful entry point for considering possible directions forward. The fact is that for the most part there are 2 kinds of responses to these issues: total abandonment of the faith in light of the arguments, or total repudiation of the arguments in favor of a preconceived doctrine. In my opinion, for the same reason the first isn’t necessary and the second is irresponsible: the doctrine needs to be able to fit the data. Granted, we shouldn’t adopt everything in the academy whole hog, but there’s a lot we should. Moreover, the incarnational analogy is a helpful posture for approaching such issues, but it needs to be emphasized that the analogy doesn’t actually solve any problems. It tells us not to be surprised when we find challenges, but cannot actually tell us what to do once we find them. Ps. 18 describes Yahweh as a fire-breathing being being dwelling in a temple who opens the ceiling of earth to descend upon a cherub with arrows ablaze, and its not the only place in the HB–or in other ancient Near Eastern literature–where we meet such strange descriptions that don’t fit neatly into our creeds. We may be prepared to see this as God permitting the ancients to describe him in their own ancient ideas, but that kind of concession raises at least as many questions as answers, probably more. We have much more to do.

At any rate, enjoy!

 

Bart Ehrman Vs. William Lane Craig: “Did Jesus Raise from the Dead?”

This is a 2006 debate between Bart Ehrman and William Lane Craig on the the historical data for Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. It’s easily the best, highest level debate on the subject I’ve ever heard. It’s long–133 minutes–but worth listening to (very slowly). Part of the reason I think it’s so valuable is that Ehrman cogently raises legitimate historical problems with the resurrection in general (and Craig’s arguments in particular), and builds a compelling case against it; and that it offers about as informed a Christian response as one could ask for. The kind of argument that Ehrman makes is the same sort that is being taught to college students around the world and is (imperfectly) filtering into pop culture, and which regularly leads to the many Christians young and old to leave the faith. It’s the kind of argument that Christians need to become very intimate with if they’re hoping to seriously engage the modern skeptic, and of which the avoidance has irreparably weakened the applicability some recent treatments (I may offer a review of this book here at some point–I don’t like it). Ultimately, Craig fails to persuade, and I think his failure is emblematic of why so many folks leave: we haven’t come up with good responses to some valid(!) fundamental critiques of Christian faith, and often the responses we have either avoid the issues or equivocate. By response I don’t mean disproof, though in some cases that might be what we need; by response I mean a reasonable answer that makes sense of the faith-decisions we make over against objections.

As a historian, I’m more with Ehrman than I’m against him. At risk of spoiling the video, I think Christians need to, for instance, consider why we privilege one set of data over others, whether the resurrection is the “best” explanation, how trustworthy our documents are, and how literary/theological agendas in the biblical texts effect how we receive the information the purport to offer.

I have opinions on these matters, but I’ll hold my cards for the moment; I’m curious what you all think (that is, only after you’ve heard the debate–btw, don’t miss the Q&A, it’s prb the best part). But let me take the opportunity to recommend a great book: James D.G. Dunn’s _Jesus Remembered_, who doesn’t exactly answer the questions, but offers a model for handling the texts that I think ultimately does.

 

Reflections on Helm’s Response to Enns’ Response to Helm’s Review of Enns

That’s a mind bender. Normally in the academy a rejoinder to a review is entitled in special circumstances–usually when an author has felt his or her work has been misunderstood or misrepresented substantially. It’s very rare to have a counter-rejoinder though. You can see why: the tit-for-tat get’s old, little progress is actually gained, and it looks rather petty.

Nevertheless, at the risk of being subject to this criticism, I’ve written an additional “tat.” I’ve just tried to summarize why I think Helm is wrong and how we need to move forward. For those interested, have a look here.

 

Westminster Seminary Under Siege

I’m a little surprised others haven’t posted this yet. Please check out the following site: www.saveourseminary.com. Please take a look at that site. Whether you’re alumni, a donor, or just someone who has been touched by the seminary, please consider signing it. Please also pray for the future of the institution.

 

A Minor Objection + A New Comment

First, I wanted to direct everyone’s attention to Darryl Hart’s new comment back on the “Ecclesial Triumph” post from a while back. I post it here b/c I figured nobody would notice or find it if I didn’t

Second, I wanted to make a small objection to something Mark said in his last post:

“We like to talk here about how Harvie Conn was “missional” decades before that became popular; well, Wilberforce was being profoundly missional two centuries before his day.”

This statement is clearly untrue, and I know that Mark knows that, which makes it a bit unfair (or straw-man torching) that I would consider making an objection (i.e. because I don’t think he’d disagree with me). But it nevertheless provides an occasion for an observation I’ve made that bugs me a bit, and that I think we should be consciously aware of.

Over the recent years, it’s seemed to me that many (not all) quasi-reformed folks who identify with trajectories set by Conn, Miller, Keller, et al, and many (not all) of sympathizers with the so-called emergent church, see the “missional” trajectories set by these as essentially (and let me emphasize “essentially”) new, almost as though having a “missional” conscience is something the church had long since forgotten, at least to a large degree. Nothing of course could be further from the truth–the truth is that many of us are either historically aware of what the church has done and why in recent centuries (dare I say, millennia), or oblivious to what other portions of the Church are/have been doing. From my perspective this is unfortunate because, on the one hand, it doesn’t realize that there is something profoundly “not new” about how the Spirit has chosen to move through these trajectories. On the other hand, this realization is–especially among us reformed folk I think–myopic in that, although it’s true our *recent* reformed heritage has been only marginally missional, it has not always been that way, and many other sections of the global capital-C-Church have pretty much been self-consciously and pro-actively missional all the while. All this, let me emphasize, I’m quite sure Mark would agree with (though Mark, please feel to disagree if you want).

Having finished that paragraph, I’m asking myself whether that’s a petty or important concern. What do you all think?

My gut reaction is yes, for at least this reason: for me at least, the lack of awareness can produce a sense of pride, arrogance, disdain, or even just apathy for the “old,” where it is unjustified. The awareness of what else is going on or has gone on provides perspective; keeps me on an even keel.

–JD

 

The Lord’s Supper, Missions, and Boundary-Making: An Anecdote

I trust everyone had (or is having) a good Christmas break.

I’m picking up Mark’s question here:

“I guess my question more focused then would be: To what extent, if any, do we accommodate the unbeliever in our worship service if we have a concern to be missional?”

I suppose a quick answer is an obvious one: it depends. It depends on where you are, your context, who you expect/don’t expect to come, what kinds of people they are, their assumptions, their background, etc. Depending on what you assume about your church services and those in attendance, Christ-centered, seeker-aware services can vary. I think what matters is not the model as much as what you do in individual circumstances—that’s where the rubber meets the road.

With that in mind, here’s one that involved me recently—and here I recognize I’m spreading some dirty laundry, but I hope its heuristic value mitigates that so it’ll be received rightly.

At one time, it was customary at my church for our ministers to fence the table very directly and very publicly: they said, point blank, if you’re baptized and a member of a church that preaches the gospel, please feel free to participate. If you are not baptized and a member, please abstain; and if you’re thinking of making a decision for Christ, please talk with us after the service (it’s probably important to know we celebrate the Supper weekly—much appreciated!).

However, some members complained. The fencing sounded exclusivistic and unwelcoming. It was too cold and members felt uncomfortable bringing their friends. And before you know it, over a few of months the pressure to accommodate caused the fencing to dwindle to words like “Don’t feel pressured to participate if you don’t want to, but if you do want to you’re welcome.” I’m quite sure this was not our clregy’s intention, but nevertheless it was a reaction to concerns that we weren,t being appropriately “missional.” And in my mind, the result was tantamount to inviting non-believers to partake of the Supper.

I noticed the shift readily (though I waited a couple months to make sure I wasn’t making things up), expressed my concern, and was thereafter told about the complaints. My feeling was this: I understand and appreciate that fencing the Table can feel exclusivistic, but it is supposed to be that way. It’s for us, not for them; the Table isn’t open to just anyone—no, it’s open only to anyone who belongs to the Son. In fact, it’s actually dangerous for them if they do take it because they’re robbing from the Lord’s Table (i.e. not ours), and if we let encourage them to do so, we’re liable. I felt making non-believers feel on the “outside,” even though uncomfortable, it not only completely appropriate, but is exactly what they should feel. Sure, we shouldn’t deliberately use the Supper to make people feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of exclusion could also be used by the Spirit to draw outsiders inward. I felt this understanding of the Supper needed to be kept before us when we contemplate how to celebrate it. (BTW, thankfully we went back to normal fencing shortly thereafter—and not to my credit, we have an amazing pastoral staff).

Anyhow, I thought this vignette might be relevant to balancing mission with accommodation. For me, we should do our best to be as accommodating as we can. But for the right reasons: there are some things that by definition are supposed to be very un-accommodating, and we should beware of them. Granted, it’s tough to know which things those are sometimes, nevertheless this is essential, and we should expect the Gospel and things that flow from it to rub folks the wrong way sometimes.