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The Cross and the Lynching Tree: A Review

Cone, James. The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2011).

The next time somebody responds to the Black Lives Matter movement by saying “All lives matter,” you might want to suggest that they read black liberation theologian James Cone’s magisterial reflection on the abominable history of lynching in America.

The year is 1918 when a young black man named Haynes Turner is lynched for no greater reason than the fact that he is a black man in the wrong place at the wrong time. When his wife Mary protests at his impending execution (and which wife would not?!), the sheriff overseeing the proceedings directs the mob to lynch her too.

Mary is subsequently stripped naked, hung upside down, doused in gasoline, and set on fire. As she writhes in agony, one of the mob steps forward, the flash of a knife’s blade illumined by the glow of the fire. He plunges the knife into Mary’s pregnant belly, yanking out the unborn baby from the sacred womb and stomping the child to death in the cold earth.

An unspeakable series of blasphemies committed by a mob of good “Christian” men.

The lynching of homeless tenant farmer Rubin Stacy (July 19, 1935). Postcards were regularly sold at lynchings to commemorate the events.

The only thing more inexplicably wicked than the story of Mary Turner is the fact that her murder is part of a far greater story of close to five thousand lynchings of black people carried out across America in the postbellum period. And as with Mary, virtually all these cases of mind-numbing, soul-destroying, unspeakably infuriating, cold-blooded murder were carried out by nominal followers of Jesus Christ.

Beginning with his 1969 book Black Theology and Black Power, James Cone has led the way in reflecting theologically on the black experience in America. The Cross and the Lynching Tree was his final work (Cone passed on April 28, 2018) and it may also be his greatest work.

It seems almost blasphemous to describe The Cross and the Lynching Tree as a beautiful book given the unfathomable atrocities it chronicles in its pages. But there is an undeniable beauty in Cone’s prose as he provides an ennobling re-narration of the heinous suffering of a people set against the cruciform strains of grace, hope, and redemption.

One theme that emerges early on is that white people were consistently silent on the abomination of lynching. Consider, for example, the highly regarded Protestant theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. While Niebuhr was renowned for speaking with uncompromising force and decisive insight on ethical issues — he famously said that theology begins with the prophet Amos — he nonetheless never denounced the scourge of lynching.

Needless to say, Niebuhr also never linked lynching with the cross. Instead, that link was explored by artists of the black community, from the stories and poetry of W.E.B. Dubois and Langston Hughes to the songs of Billie Holiday. Here, Cone observes, one finds a prophetic theology emerging organically from the suffering of a community: “It was a kind of ‘commonsense’ theology—a theology of the grassroots, for which one needed no seminary or university degree in religion.” (118)

Cone also interacts with the extraordinary journalist Ida B. Wells who regularly risked her own life to speak out against the atrocity of lynching. In one incisive passage, Wells observes that the true evil of lynching is not the spontaneity of the mob but rather “the cool, calculating deliberation of intelligent people who openly avow that there is an ‘unwritten law’ that justifies them in putting human beings to death without complaint under oath, without trial by jury, without opportunity to make defense, and without right of appeal.” (127)

Wells also offered the following withering assessment of the great evangelist Dwight Moody’s segregated evangelistic crusades: “Our American Christians are too busy saving the souls of white Christians from burning in hellfire to save the lives of black ones from present burning in fires kindled by white Christians.” (132)

While Cone argues eloquently for the transformative power of nonviolent responses to injustice, he decisively rejects popular theories of atonement and their consequent tendency to normalize states of injustice as vehicles of grace. The Cross and the Lynching Tree offers not a theory of atonement but rather God’s act of atonement as a hermeneutical key to the unjust suffering of people and ultimately, the transformation of the world:

“God saw what whites did to innocent and helpless blacks and claimed their suffering as God’s own. God transformed lynched black bodies into the recrucified body of Christ. Every time a white mob lynched a black person, they lynched Jesus. The lynching tree is the cross in America. When American Christians realize that they can meet Jesus only in the crucified bodies in their midst, they will encounter the real scandal of the cross.” (158, emphasis in original)

Thanks to Orbis for a review copy of this book.

You can purchase a copy of The Cross and the Lynching Tree at Amazon.com.

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Drown the Pastor! Or, beware the angry evangelical congregation

On September 15th, the Daily Courier, the newspaper in my hometown of Kelowna, B.C., published the latest article from columnist Tim Schroeder. As teaching pastor at a large evangelical church, Trinity Baptist, Schroeder’s columns are usually pithy expressions of pastoral wisdom run through a grid of evangelical theology and social conservatism. But this article was rather different. Indeed, relative to Schroeder’s oeuvre, it was nothing short of shocking.

In “We are fortunate to live in Canada,” Schroeder lists several reasons why Canadians should be glad to live in the Great White North rather than the United States, but it was the second point that was particularly shocking. In the article, Schroeder came out solidly on the side of gay marriage and elective abortion.

On gay marriage, Schroeder wrote:

“The concern about same-sex marriage is, for me, the most difficult to understand. If two people love each other and believe their life together would be more fulfilling if joined in matrimony, what harm is inflicted on anyone or everyone else?”

This statement appears to be in contradiction with the NAB 2012 Statement of Beliefs (the statement of Schroeder’s denomination).

Equally shocking was Schroeder’s dismissal of a pro-life position on abortion. He wrote:

“The matter of abortion is also bewildering. Americans opposed to this medical procedure are, in effect, telling women what they can and cannot do with their bodies.”

Arguably most shocking of all was the nonchalant way that Schroeder expressed his view and his apparent dismissiveness toward traditional evangelical opinions. Frankly, it was inexplicable (dare I say, bewildering?) that Schoeder would express his support for these positions in such a nonchalant way while cavalierly dismissing widespread evangelical opinions on the matter.

Wow, I thought to myself, I wouldn’t want to be the receptionist at Trinity Baptist tomorrow morning!

Then came the second curveball. A few days later I went to the Daily Courier website to look at the article again and I read this:

EDITOR’S NOTE: A series of bizarre and unfortunate circumstances occurred in the process of editing the Sept. 15 print edition of Okanagan Weekend.

A column titled “We are fortunate to live in Canada,” credited to Tim Schroeder was NOT penned by Pastor Schroeder and in no way reflects his views or the viewpoint of Trinity Baptist Church in Kelowna. (source)

Double wow.

So at least that now made sense. As I said above, it wasn’t simply the views expressed in the article which flummoxed me but the nonchalant and cavalier way in which they were expressed. It had never added up that a well-respected evangelical leader would suddenly adopt such a different view along with so little nuance, charity, or understanding for those with whom he was now disagreeing.

But still, I wondered how the church would weather the fallout. After all, as the saying goes, a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes. I suspected the same principle applied to unintentional misattributions.

Several weeks later in a sermon, Schroeder addressed the mix-up and the fiery blowback he’d received. In one instance, he noted a man had emailed him to say that Schroeder should be drowned in the deepest part of Okanagan Lake (the large and deep lake on which Kelowna is situated). Jokingly, Schroeder wondered aloud to the congregation why the man wanted him drowned in the deepest part of the lake: wouldn’t it suffice to drown him near shore?

Now let me make two qualifying points. First, I can sympathize somewhat with the anger of Christians who read what they thought was a shockingly cavalier dismissal of their views. And second, most evangelicals probably wouldn’t support the man’s proposed solution: drowning.

But neither point overcomes the disturbing fact that at least some sizeable minority of evangelicals were angry enough to express the sentiment that violent retribution — perhaps even public execution — might be appropriate to the wayward pastor.

And yet, I can’t say I was surprised. After all, evangelicals have long defined themselves primarily by what they are against and gay marriage and abortion have topped that list for years. By contrast, in terms of all the other things one might be against, several other worthy topics — global poverty, animal abuse, and climate change, for example — are significantly lower on the scale. (How many outraged emails and phone calls would Trinity Baptist had received if Shroeder had written an article dismissive of climate change, for example?)

Even more radically, what if evangelicals were known primarily not by what they are against but rather by what they are for? In fact, what if they were known for, get this, their love for one another (John 13:35)?

Crazy, I know. But hey, I can dream, can’t I?

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The Fascist Snowflake: Thoughts on the Bannon/Frum Debate

Yesterday, I watched the online stream for the Munk Debate on the Rise of Populism. The debate featured Steve Bannon in battle with David Frum.

Bannon, as we all know, popularized Brietbart, an alt-right news website, and was a key architect in Donald Trump gaining the presidency. He also achieved fame on SNL as the Grim Reaper in the Alec Baldwin/Donald Trump skits.

Meanwhile, David Frum is a highly respected moderate Canadian and American conservative political commentator, son of the famed Canadian journalist Barbara Frum, former speechwriter for George Bush, author of Trumpocracy: The Corruption of the American Republic, and a senior editor at The Atlantic.

The Set-up

Here was the debate resolution:

“Be it resolved, the future of western politics is populist, not liberal.”

As you would expect, Bannon was arguing the affirmative and Frum argued the negative.

Personally, I would’ve written this resolution differently as in current form it is ambiguous between

Descriptive Thesis: It is most likely given current trajectories that the future of western politics will be populist.
Normative Thesis: Going into the future, the best prospect for western politics will be populist.

We can proceed on the assumption that the debaters were concerned with the normative thesis. With that in mind, the point of the debate resolution is to pit two political philosophies — liberal democracy and (populist) economic nationalism — against one another.

Unfortunately, neither view was explicitly defined by debate participants. To be sure, the attentive viewer could cobble together two relatively serviceable definitions but no doubt it would’ve been helpful for the non-policy-wonks to have clearer definitions at the outset.

The Debate

I think Frum clearly won the debate. (But then I would think that, right? Debates rarely change opinions.) He succinctly and passionately stated his position in his opening statement: “Populism is a scam, it’s a lie, it’s a fake, it has nothing.” He then backed that striking statement up with evidence: for example, he pointed out how Trump had exploded the deficit, how he had utterly failed to deliver on a promise of healthcare for all, how the tumultuous markets of October 2018 portend the failures of Trump’s economic policies, and how Trumop’s revision of NAFTA failed to address critical topics like the digital economy.

For his part, Bannon tried self-deprecation seasoned with folksy charm, but that couldn’t mask the absurdity of several of his claims. For example,  his insistence that Trump is not Islamophobic because his first foreign visit as POTUS was to Saudi Arabia elicited incredulous laughter from the audience.

Bannon’s strongest card in the debate was to point out that countries like the United States have socialism for the wealthy and capitalism for everyone else. He’s right, and the 2008 bailout of investment banks remains controversial for just that reason.

However, it truly is delusional to suggest that Donald Trump presents a solution: just look at the scandal-ridden nature of his administration (e.g. Tom Price; Scott Pruitt; emoluments clause; Ryan Zinke …). Indeed, the scandal and corruption of this swamp-ridden presidency is unprecedented. Set against that backdrop, one can hardly accuse Frum of hyperbole when he observed:

“If people acted like the President the place [America] would be Gotham City.”

Hence, my conclusion: Frum effectively demonstrated that while Bannon’s populism does effectively exploit dissatisfaction at the status quo, in terms of positive solutions, it does indeed have nothing.

The Fascist Snowflake

Now I come to the thing I really want to talk about: the opposition to the event itself.

The debate was delayed by close to an hour because of angry protesters in the streets who were harassing arriving audience members, screaming at them that they were supporting fascism. (Did you get that? Simply attending the debate apparently makes one a supporter of fascism.)

Inside the hall, one protester unfurled a banner as Bannon began to speak — “No hate. No bigotry. No platform for Bannon’s white supremacy.” The moderator invited her to stay on the condition that she would extend the courtesy of remaining silent so the debate could proceed. She refused and instead kept shouting until she was removed by police.

On Twitter, I defended the importance of this kind of debate:

One minute into #SteveBannon's opening remarks, a protester is already trying to shout him down. Police officers are now removing the anti-free speech snowflake from the auditorium. You defeat Bannon's ideas by debating them, not shouting them down. #MunkDebate

— Tentative Apologist (@RandalRauser) November 2, 2018

Some people didn’t appreciate my tweet. Apparently, many people believe shouting at is preferable to debating with.

One gentleman took issue with the fact that I called these protesters snowflakes. But the fact is that the slang term snowflake refers to individuals who are driven by an emotional response and unable to tolerate the opinions of others. If you scream at people who only want to hear a formal debate between thought leaders from the two most significant socio-political forces in the western world, then yeah, you’re a snowflake.

Another response on Twitter was particularly revealing. One lady replied to my tweet as follows:

“Oh. We@fought WWII all wrong then. We should have sent debaters to Normandy.”

I replied:

“I see, so you advocate using military force and violence to suppress *ideas*? Which economic theories, philosophies, and political movements should be suppressed by violence? Can you provide a list?”

This lady retorted that she doesn’t advocate violence. So, I guess she just advocates for inflammatory rhetorical excess (Normandy?!)? I then replied with a pointed question:

“So how should we respond to ecnomic [sic] nationalist movements apart from labeling them fascist and not debating their thought leaders?”

Crickets.

Well, not exactly crickets. In her tweet, she did suggest following the path of Iceland:

“marching to parliament and putting those who trashed country in jail.”

I see, so the answer is simply “Lock them up!” Hmm, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

And that’s the problem. So much of the opposition to nationalists like Steve Bannon consists of little more than bullying tactics to silence others with shouts and epithets and rhetorically excessive calls for forcible suppression (e.g. violence and imprisonment). And that brings us to the ironic conclusion that these angry protesters with their rage-fueled tantrums exhibit some of the classic hallmarks of the very fascism they claim to oppose.

Watch the Debate Here:

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A Review of Blue Babies Pink: A Southern Coming Out Story

There is an idea, popular among evangelicals, that Christian theology is simply a matter of counting Bible verses. While that simple notion has had a major impact on evangelicalism — for example, it’s the basic method of Wayne Grudem’s bewilderingly popular and very bad textbook Systematic Theology — it is based on a myth.

Theology and doctrine are actually formed by a complex interplay of scripture with received interpretive traditions, informed by one’s personal experience (or narrative), and shaped by rational and moral intuitions and reasoning from those intuitions, and all in dialogue with contemporary culture (with “contemporary culture” encompassing everything from natural science to standards of political organization and commonly received ethical views of the good life).

That’s why Christians can end up with such deep divisions on fundamental theological and ethical questions: different individuals (and communities) work with different datasets. And until we begin to appreciate that fact, we will be doomed to continue talking past one another.

The significance of personal narrative can hardly be understated. From Augustine’s Confessions to, ahem, Randal Rauser’s What’s So Confusing About Grace?, our litany of personal experiences woven together into a (more or less) coherent narrative inevitably shape the way we think in matters of theology as in all else. Thus, if you want better to understand a person’s theological or ethical stance, you’d be wise to begin by listening to their story.

With that in mind, about a month ago one of my students recommended I listen to the podcast Blue Babies Pink: A Southern Coming Out Story. The podcast (also available in readable blog form) was created by Brett Trapp (aka B.T. Harman) as 44 episodes of (approximately) 10-12 minutes each. Since I’m always interested in hearing people’s stories and how it shapes their theology (indeed, next semester I’m teaching a seminar on theological autobiography), I downloaded the show and began listening.

[Note to Reader: In this review, I’m going to summarize the narratival arc of Blue Babies Pink. If you would view that as a *spoiler* to the story, then stop reading the review now and just go listen to the podcast. You have been warned.]

In the podcast, Brett describes growing up in a pious Baptist family in smalltown Alabama, son of a Baptist minister. After some abortive attempts at dating in his teens, Brett gradually comes to realize that he is same-sex attracted. (For years, Brett is careful to avoid describing himself as gay.) Brett never pursues conversion therapy but into his 30s he maintains a commitment to life-long celibacy like that of Wesley Hill.

Needless to say, it isn’t easy: Brett attempts to stave off his loneliness and frustration by being a workaholic; he visits a couple counselors with varying levels of success; finally, he begins to experience a breakdown in psychological and physical wellness which he gradually links to his self-imposed celibacy.

Forty-four episodes is a lot, and I found that the narrative began to get bogged down about two-thirds of the way through amidst a series of vignettes of loneliness, frustration, and struggle. While these various scenes certainly serve the narrative arc, I suspect an editor would have suggested some cutting in this section.

Gradually, the series picks up again and arguably reaches its emotional peak as Brett recounts several occasions of coming out to family and friends as a celibate gay person. (Another emotional peak comes as Brett describes the painful process of losing his father to ALS.) Here, and indeed throughout the series, there are nuggets of wisdom, care and compassion carefully mined from the bedrock of a life lived.

The podcast builds toward the point in 2012 when Brett describes finally reaching a breaking point in which he decides he can no longer live as a celibate gay man. He downloads dating app Tinder (while acknowledging it has since acquired a negative reputation as being a mere medium for soulless hookups) and describes going on his first date with another man. And after some concluding reflections, the series ends.

This brings me to my two biggest disappointments with Blue Babies Pink. To begin with, while Brett candidly shares the reaction of friends and family to his coming out as a celibate gay man, he is largely silent on their reaction to his decision to pursue romantic gay relationships. After investing this much time in a single personal narrative, it is understandable that the listener/reader will expect more candor on this monumental decision, and thus feel let down when it is withheld.

Even more significantly, Brett also provides no explanation of the theological reasoning that supported his final decision to abandon celibacy. Instead, he simply makes passing reference to the fact that others have already argued for a gay-affirming position on biblical and theological grounds. This is certainly true, but again after investing so much time in Brett’s story, I’d really want to hear how he interprets scripture and reasons theologically.

For example, how does Brett now think about the prohibitions of Exodus 18 and 20 and the Torah more generally? Does he take the view that Paul’s condemnations in Romans and 1 Corinthians should be limited to temple prostitution and pederasty? To what degree does Brett believe his own psychological disintegration as a celibate gay man justifies his abandonment of celibacy? Does Brett consider same-sex monogamous relationships to be a divine gift equivalent to heterosexual romantic relationships? Or, as Lewis Smedes argued, would he instead view same-sex attraction as part of the fall and same-sex relationships as a concession to brokenness analogous to couples that are divorced and remarried?

On these and other matters, the listener/reader can only guess as to Brett’s true thoughts. After forty-four episodes, I was hoping for more.

While I was disappointed by the relative brevity of the conclusion to Blue Babies Pink, and the spartan biblical, theological, and ethical reflection, those disappointments do not override my appreciation for the series. Brett is a very capable writer and most episodes end on a hook that pulls the listener/reader back for more. As I said above, the series includes many bits of wisdom. And whether you agree with Brett’s final decision or not, listening to this series will give you far greater insight into the life and struggles of the same-sex attracted Christian.

You can visit Brett (or B.T.) online at https://btharman.com/

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How to help Stephen Law enjoy horror movies again

The esteemed philosopher (and atheist) Stephen Law just posted an article titled “Why I Can’t Enjoy Demonic Horror Films” and he tagged me on Twitter. I offered some comments in reply on Twitter, but I’m going to offer a more fulsome (and rather different) response here.

The article begins with Law recalling his pleasure at being frightened while watching The Omen: “It scared the crap out of me very enjoyably.” But alas, this pleasurable outlet has now been lost to him: “Can’t really it enjoy it now.”

The problem? As Law sees it, demonic horror films assume the Christian universe: “if hell, the anti-Christ, various demons, etc. exist, then so does God and heaven.” And the Christian universe assumes two points which usurp the pleasure of any demonic horror film (the descriptive terms for these two points are mine):

(1) Meticulous divine providential oversight: God has a morally sufficient reason for allowing every evil event or state of affairs that occurs, including adequate compensation for those who suffer unjustly. Consequently, when anything bad happens to a person in the demonic film, they either deserve it or will be adequately compensated for it.

(2) Good-to-evil Power Imbalance: There is never a doubt that God will win in the end: “The God vs Satan imbalance in power is like Mike Tyson vs the weediest wimp ever, multiplied by infinity.”

So the idea, apparently, is that these two points remove any basis for fear in demonic horror films. Is there anything we can say in reply? Something that might help restore Law’s pleasure in a good scare?

Yes, there is!

Scary Non-Supernatural Films

If Law is looking for an enjoyable scare, he could try some scary non-supernatural films such as A Quiet Place (scary aliens with super-duper hearing) or Halloween (the original or the sequel).

Scary Non-Christian-Themed Supernatural Films

Next, even if Law finds Christian-themed supernatural horror films to be not scary, there are many, many other scary supernatural films that do not appeal to a Christian theology. While there are countless examples one might suggest, let me note but a few: The Babadook, The Shining, The Sixth Sense, It, It Follows. To be sure, most of these films are inconsistent with naturalism (at least as commonly conceived) but they are consistent with many non-Christian worldviews.

Christian Themes and Worldview Underdetermination

Next, even when films appeal to Christian themes and iconography (e.g. The Exorcist, Requiem, The Conjuring, Rec), in many cases it is far from clear that they are endorsing the specific theology described in (1) and (2).

On this point, note that some Christian theologians deny (1) (See, for example, Greg Boyd’s warfare theodicy.) Other Christian theologians reject conventional definitions of divine omnipotence (for example, Christian process theologians.)

To sum up, many of these films are perfectly consistent with (1) and (2) being false even if these films illustrate demons possessing people and responding negatively to Christian religious implements like holy water and crucifixes.

Christian-Themed Supernatural Films and Jump Scares!

Even if the film is Christian-themed and endorses (1) and (2) and even if Law is correct that (1) and (2) should usurp our general fear in a narrative, that doesn’t change the fact that we are still subject to jump scares. The jump scare is a well-worn technique in horror films which induces fear by a quick shift in sound and/or image to induce a visceral fear response. In short, jump scares exploit a physiological acute stress response which functions independently of one’s worldview.

Reevaluating (1) and (2)

Finally, I deny Law’s assumption that (1) and (2) should provide a basis not to experience fear or trepidation.

Consider this analogy. You are diagnosed with cancer and as a result, your treatment of chemotherapy will yield great suffering for six weeks. At the same time, you are assured by the doctor that (i) you will only suffer to the degree that it is necessary to heal you from cancer and (ii) the doctor is confident that he can completely eradicate the cancer and bring about your full recovery. No doubt, (i) and (ii) would significantly ameliorate your fear and trepidation. Nonetheless, you would surely still be deeply apprehensive of the suffering that would accompany the treatment.

By the same token, even if a person accepts (1) and (2), they may still reasonably experience fear and trepidation as they encounter the difficulties of life’s circumstances. (Christians who accept (1) and (2) — as most likely do — can tell you this first-hand!)

Similarly, the person watching a horror film set within a worldview that assumes (1) and (2) may experience fear and trepidation. And for fans of horror films, that means that they can still experience the kind of good scare that Law fondly associates with his viewing of The Omen.

A Test Case

At the end of November, a new film titled The Possession of Hannah Grace is going to be released. The film is generating significant buzz, it has a supernatural theme and it appears to be set in a Christian universe. But even if it assumes (1) and (2) — and I suspect that is underdetermined within the narrative — I am guessing the average viewer will find more than enough to scare them in keeping with the points I made above.

In conclusion, on Twitter, I asked Law whether he would be interested in a private screening (just him alone) of The Possession of Hannah Grace in the middle of the night in an abandoned mental hospital.

Law didn’t reply to that question. But I’ll tell you right now that I ain’t interested in a private screening of this film alone in an abandoned mental hospital, and I accept both (1) and (2). And the reason I’m not interested is simple: the very idea gives me the heebie-jeebies.

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Did a Democrat send the pipe bombs? And other conspiracy theories

It wasn’t long before some leading Republicans were suggesting that Democrats were behind the pipe bombs that were discovered this morning. Included in this growing list of conspiracy theorists we find Michael Flynn, Ann Coulter, and Rush Limbaugh. (Source)

This prompted me to post the following survey on Twitter. If you’re interested in participating, please click the link and vote, but do so before you read my thoughts below:

Some leading Republicans are now suggesting that the pipe bombs mailed to several leading critics of the POTUS were part of a Democrat conspiracy to make Trump and Republicans look bad. How likely do you believe that possibility to be?

— Tentative Apologist (@RandalRauser) October 25, 2018

Okay, now for my thoughts.

I’d say this is not at all plausible or likely, but I definitely think it is remotely possible. To be sure, by “Democrat Conspiracy” I am thinking one or more Democrats rather than some conspiracy involving many leading Democrats. The greater the conspiracy, the more implausible it becomes until it eventually drops to what is, for all intents and purposes, nil.

What I think is most likely is that this is what it appears to be: an angry Trump supporter sending a message.

But there is another possibility which I haven’t heard anyone mention yet, namely the possibility that these letter bombs were sent by foreign nationals — most likely Russian — as a means to destabilize the United States further. Is this likely? Well, it certainly isn’t as likely as the angry Trump supporter, but I also think it is more likely than the nefarious Democrat playing 4-D chess.

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What is Mere Christianity? Part 6: James Anderson Answers

Our final installment in my series on mere Christianity comes from James N. Anderson. Dr. Anderson is Professor of Theology and Philosophy at Reformed Theological Seminary in Charlotte, North Carolina, and an ordained minister in the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church. He is the author of What’s Your Worldview?: An Interactive Approach to Life’s Big Questions, Why Should I Believe Christianity?, and Paradox in Christian Theology: An Analysis of Its Presence, Character, and Epistemic Status. (On a personal note, I highly recommend Paradox in Christian Theology if you have an interest in the subject. It’s a great read.) Dr. Anderson blogs at https://www.proginosko.com/.

James Anderson on Mere Christianity

“Charitable answer: MC is an irreducible core of beliefs (something like the Apostles’ Creed) and practices (corporate worship, Scripture reading, prayer, baptism, Lord’s Supper, evangelism, catechism, etc.) that must be affirmed in order to count as genuinely Christian. MC is necessary but not sufficient for Christian orthodoxy, since the latter also requires not denying some further doctrinal and moral claims.

“Cynical answer: MC is a relatively recent invention, a lowest-common-denominator approach to defining and defending Christianity that aims to maximize the boundaries of the church and minimize the burden of argument.”

Reflections

Let’s start with the charitable answer. Anderson provides a relatively detailed list, one which starts with “something like the Apostles’ Creed”. That seems like a good starting point in terms of belief. Anderson then adds several practices which an individual and/or community must undertake in order “to count as genuinely Christian.”

I certainly agree with Anderson that every one of these practices should be present in Christian communities. However, it is more controversial to claim that every one of these practices must be present in Christian communities for those communities to count as Christian. Note, for example, that the Quakers and Salvation Army would not “count as genuinely Christian” according to this rubric because they do not practice the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. I’m also curious as to what, precisely, would constitute “catechism” such that this would be necessary for a community to be Christian.

Now let’s turn to the cynical answer. I’m not sure how recent in origin Anderson thinks mere Christianity to be, but I would submit it is far older than the rise of ecumenism in the twentieth century. For example, the Lutheran theologian Georg Calixtus (1586-1656) famously undertook the project of seeking to unify a fractured, post-Reformation Christendom on a core of shared doctrinal belief and practice.

Finally, let’s turn to Anderson’s apparent conviction that “maximizing the boundaries of the church” is a bad thing. (I assume he views this trend with suspicion given that he includes it as part of his “cynical answer”.)

Perhaps we can illustrate the issues with a criminal justice analogy. So, consider the following two errors:

(1) The error of convicting an innocent man.

(2) The error of exonerating a guilty man.

As I understand it, the standards of proof in western criminal justice generally prioritize avoidance of (1) over avoidance of (2). In other words, we’d rather a guilty man walk free than an innocent man be convicted. And that priority is expressed in the standard of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.

Now consider the question of church boundaries with this theological analogue:

(3) The error of falsely recognizing a non-Christian as Christian.

(4) The error of falsely recognizing a Christian as non-Christian.

If one likewise considers (3) as a greater error than (4) then one will adopt a more generous and minimalist ecclesiology (and definition of mere Christianity). After all, if error in judgment is to arise, we’d rather recognize non-Christians as Christians than denounce genuine Christians as non-Christians.

However, Anderson’s concern about maximizing church boundaries by minimizing the demands of doctrine and practice suggests he would either consider (3) and (4) equal errors or, conversely, would consider (4) a greater error. In other words, better a real Christian be excluded from the community of faith than a false Christian be included.

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Hell and the Principle of Proportional Justice

This is a brief follow-up to my article with the inexcusably long title “Do three-year-olds deserve to be tortured eternally in hell? Apparently, Ligonier Ministries thinks so. And they’re alarmed at those who disagree.” In the comments section, Fraternite commented as follows:

“From your perspective, why wouldn’t or shouldn’t God overlook a person who sinned only once their entire life and was the template of justice otherwise?

“I’m no Calvinist, but it honestly seems to me that you have some sort of issue with the very idea that sin necessarily requires death at all; I don’t think LM [Ligonier Ministries] is offbase at all here from a traditional small-o orthodox perspective.” (source)

This comment provides a good opportunity to say a bit more on the topic. The underlying issue is the principle of proportional justice (PPJ) according to which, in layman’s terms, is defined as the punishment must fit the crime. PPJ is a fundamental principle to guide fairness in the exercise of punishment. For example, it is assumed in the principle of lex talionis according to which a retributive punishment should reflect the offense in kind and intensity: in other words, an eye for an eye.

In their survey, Ligonier Ministries assumes that even the smallest sin deserves eternal damnation. In my article, I was aiming to argue that this position violates the PPJ.To be sure, I did not state this explicitly, but I assumed it would be sufficiently clear simply in virtue of pointing out the manifest absurdity of torturing a toddler for eternity for a single offense. If it is unjust to torture a toddler for a single indiscretion then it is false that even the smallest sin deserves eternal damnation.

Traditionally, the most common way to reconcile the claim that even the smallest sin deserves eternal damnation with the PPJ is found in the following argument:

(1) Every sin is ultimately a sin against God.

(2) Sin against God warrants infinite punishment (i.e. never-ending, maximally intense physical and mental torture).

(3) Therefore, every sin warrants infinite punishment.

I’m not going to bother refuting this argument here. But I will challenge anybody who thinks that premises (1) and (2) should be accepted as part of essential Christian doctrine (or “traditional small-o orthodoxy”) to make their case.

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The Biblical Illiteracy of Christian Fundamentalists: The Case of Ligonier Ministries

Let’s continue our look at (conservative Calvinist) Ligonier Ministries’ recent survey on “The State of Theology”. (For Part 1, see here.)

The survey asks millennials to state their level of agreement with this statement:

“The Bible, like all sacred writings, contains helpful accounts of ancient myths but is not literally true.”

42% of respondents agree with that statement while 20% disagree and the rest check off either somewhat agree, somewhat disagree, or not sure. The writers of the survey conclude:

“young adults appear to be drifting away from the Christian worldview in other areas. Millennials are most likely to agree that the Bible is not literally true.”

So according to “The State of Theology” survey, a “Christian worldview” requires one to accept the Bible as “literally true”. With that in mind, let’s take a look at some statements from the Bible:

Genesis 6:6 (NIV)

The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled.

Ecclesiastes 1:2 (NIV)

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”

    says the Teacher.

“Utterly meaningless!

    Everything is meaningless.”

Psalm 18:8-10 (NIV)

8 Smoke rose from his nostrils;

    consuming fire came from his mouth,

    burning coals blazed out of it.

9 He parted the heavens and came down;

    dark clouds were under his feet.

10 He mounted the cherubim and flew;

    he soared on the wings of the wind.

Psalm 137:9 (NIV)

Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!

Presumably, to take the Bible as literally true entails taking the component parts (i.e. particular statements) in the Bible as literally true. With that in mind, it would appear that to have a genuinely Christian worldview requires the following: you are a nihilist who believes God is a dragon that regrets having made human beings and that people who bludgeon the infants of their oppressors are especially blessed.

Of course, one can imagine that Ligonier Ministries will have a series of rebuttals. Perhaps they’ll say Genesis 6:6 is an anthropomorphism, Ecclesiastes 1:2 is ironic, and Psalm 18:8-10 is a metaphor. (Not sure how they’d handle Psalm 137:9.) But note that with every particularized interpretive strategy, they further erode the meaning of the claim that the Bible is “literally true.” And with that, the stark nature of the false dilemma in the original statement — ancient myth or literally true — becomes more glaringly obvious.

The real lesson of this survey is not that Christian millennials have an un-Christian worldview. Rather, it is that the folks at Ligonier Ministries have allowed meaningless platitudes and false dilemmas to obscure a proper engagement with Scripture in all its nuanced complexity. Once again, we see that for all their talk of Scripture and doctrine, Christian fundamentalists retain a surprising level of basic biblical and theological illiteracy.

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Do three-year-olds deserve to be tortured eternally in hell? Apparently Ligonier Ministries thinks so. And they’re alarmed at those who disagree

“What do Americans think about God, Jesus Christ, sin, and eternity? Ligonier Ministries’ State of Theology survey helps uncover the answers. Every two years, we take the theological temperature of the United States to help Christians better understand today’s culture and equip the church with better insights for discipleship. Read some of our key findings from 2018 below and explore the data for yourself.” (Emphasis added, source)

So begins an article summarizing the data for Ligonier Ministries’ latest survey. Ligonier was founded by 1971 by R.C. Sproul and reflects a conservative Calvinist theology and social ethic. And like many ministries, it employs survey data with tendentious questions and marginal social-scientific value as a means to raise the profile and underscore the importance of their own ministry. In short, such surveys are typically most useful for illuminating the theological concerns fo the ones giving the survey.

Consider this question:

“Even the smallest sin deserves eternal damnation.” [Yes or no?]

Let’s be clear on what is being asked. So consider this scenario:

Three-year-old Billy sees Timmy playing with his toy train. “It’s mine!” Billy snaps jealously as he yanks the train out of Timmy’s hand.

Billy behaved badly. He is deserving of a time-out. Perhaps, if you’re old-school, he’s even deserving of a swat on the bum.

But do you think Billy thereby deserves to be tortured unimaginably in body and mind forever? That’s what Ligonier Ministries wants to know.

Not surprisingly, most respondents do not think Billy’s burst of bad behavior is sufficient to warrant eternal torture. The surprising bit is that Ligonier Ministries is disturbed by this fact. They write:

“An alarming 69% of people disagree that even the smallest sin deserves eternal damnation, with 58% strongly disagreeing.” (Emphasis added)

Think about that. Ligonier Ministries considers it disturbing that 69% of people do not believe Billy’s temporary temper tantrum warrants eternal torture.

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