The dangers of reactionary ecclesiologies

Is it theologically problematic that the core convictions of many contemporary accounts of the church seem fundamentally reactionary in character? Does this reflect a loss of confidence in the gospel or at least some feelings of insecurity? It seems to me that Radical Orthodoxy is probably the most obvious “movement” in theology that seems almost exclusively oriented toward positing the church as an “alternative” to modernity, liberalism, individualism, capitalism, nihilism, the nation-state, fill in the blank. Now while I think there are certain helpful insights to be gained from John Milbank and RO, I am uncomfortable with the highly reactionary character of their work. I wonder if this tendency extends beyond RO.

In his insightful essay “Ecclesiology and Communion,” Nicholas Healy suggests that much of post-Vatican II “communion ecclesiology” tends to idealize the church and therefore lends itself to ideological distortion. He argues that, when coupled with a realized eschatology, communion ecclesiology conceives the church “primarily in terms of an attained or always-already grace-given perfection–communion–its need for continual reform and repentance can too easily be forgotten.” The question for Healy then is whether the concept of communion can do the critical work necessary in order to avoid a sort of valorization of “community.” Healy sees this approach problematically at work in John Zizioulas, Jean-Marie Tillard, Joseph Ratzinger, and also in the approaches of the so-called “new ecclesiology,” which consists of thinkers like Stanley Hauerwas, George Lindbeck, Reinhard Hütter, and others.

Now certainly this phenomenon is not a particularly modern or postmodern one. The church has always defined itself against internal and external forces. One thinks, for example, of the role of Augustine’s dispute with the Donatists in formulating his own constructive ecclesiology. But Healy thinks that there is an evident shift in recent times. Healy, for example, criticizes Zizioulas and Tillard for identifying church membership with salvation, thereby collapsing ecclesiology and soteriology, and defining the characteristics of ecclesial existence against what is lacking in the world outside the church. To Zizioulas and Tillard, “to become a member of the church,” in Healy’s words, “is to be saved from a world that is corrupt and sinful so as to live as God lives, in communion.”

Healy’s central fear is that the strong emphasis on the church’s practices coupled with the polemics against the world’s practices tends to neglect the place of divine action. Such accounts “foster a confusion of sanctification with salvation and ecclesiology with soteriology.” The point here is not to deny the centrality of the church, but to highlight that membership in the church does not bring about salvation–it is rather Christ who saves. Healy also notes that the independence of the Holy Spirit is downplayed. The Spirit must always “move us if we are to perform any right action, even when we have the virtues for it.” And, indeed, the Spirit is free to act, even within the modern liberal world. Further, Healy observes the lack of an account of the Word as judgment on the church as well as the world. Healy’s central concern is that an idealized view of the church and its practices tends to neglect the real independence and freedom of the Son and the Spirit.

Healy suggests that what binds the communion ecclesiologies and the so-called “new ecclesiology” together is, in part, their reactionary character, namely, their common opposition to modernity. Just as the Roman Catholic church in the face of modern atheism tended to abandon the narrative of the gospel for apologetic philosophical and scientific proofs to ground belief in God, perhaps contemporary ecclesiology makes a parallel move when it shifts attention away from Christ’s saving acts to the church and its saving acts. As Healy puts it, “Perhaps the outrageousness of the gospel claims may seem less outrageous when they are placed within a critical account of the woes of modernity and how we may be saved from them.” In this way, ecclesiology takes on a distinctly apologetic function, “that of ameliorating the starkness of the gospel claims by situating them within a communal solution to contemporary social problems that appeals to well-meaning moderns and postmoderns.”

The church-as-polis

In his excellent book Christ, History and Apocalyptic Nate Kerr criticizes the “church-as-polis” model in favor of a missionary conception of the church. For those schooled in the world of Stanley Hauerwas the “church-as-polis” model marks a basic conviction. In fact, if Kerr is correct in his criticisms, then many of us will need to radically rethink not only our indebtedness and relationship to Hauerwas, but also our theology of the church more generally. But Kerr’s criticisms do not apply only to Hauerwas and his followers, they also apply to John Howard Yoder.

Kerr’s criticisms of Hauerwas and Yoder revolve around two key points: 1) the political ontologization of the church and 2) the instrumentalization of worship.

What Kerr calls “the political ontologization of the church” is a way of conceiving of the church as an ontologically “stable” political body that exists prior to “encounter” with the world. In this perspective, the church’s worship is instrumentalized insofar as it tends to correlate or even identify specific practices of the church with the work of the Spirit. When the Spirit is identified with the specific practices of Christian worship, then the Spirit is domesticated precisely as the possession of the church. For Kerr, however, “worship only ‘is’ as an apocalyptic pneumatological event” (Kerr, 170). As apocalyptic event the Spirit refuses domestication and possession. If the church is constituted by the Spirit, who exists only as event, then the church, in Kerr’s perspective, never really “is” at all. The consequence of such a view of the Spirit’s relation vis a vis the church is the loss of any identifiable continuity. The “tradition” of the church is never stable, never certain, and can always be called into question by the ever newness of the Spirit’s action. Lest this view be misconstrued as another form of liberal Protestantism (think of the UCC slogan “God is still speaking”), the Spirit’s work, for Kerr, is precisely not in discontinuity with the “apocalyptic historicity” of Jesus of Nazareth.

Kerr’s worry is not only that the identification of the Spirit with the practices of the church stablilizes the church’s interior identity and domesticates the Spirit, but that such a view usually involves an instrumentalization of Spirit by positing “the church” as a counter political identity over-and-against “the world” (i.e. liberalism, capitalism, secularism, modernity, whatever). Such a move, according to Kerr, amounts to an inversion of Constantinianism. As Kerr puts it, “The ‘meaning’ of Christ’s lordship is displaced from the operativity of Jesus’ ‘independence’ and onto the operation of the church as a polis in history, such that the meaning of history is borne along precisely by the ‘social function’ of the Christian community, which is now bound to the world precisely as ‘a microcosm of the wider society’” (Kerr, 170). Kerr is worried about Yoder’s claims that “the ultimate meaning of history is to be found in the work of the church” and that “the meaning of history is carried first of all, on behalf of all others, by the believing community” (See Yoder, Royal Priesthood, 118, 151). Such claims are, however, absolutely central to Yoder’s ecclesiology. Contrary to Kerr, for Yoder, the church is a polis, almost paradoxically, precisely in its dispossession and deterritorialization. The meaning of history is to be located in “the church” not because of an easy identification of Jesus or the Spirit with the church and its practices of worship, but because redemption and reconciliation happens and this is what “the church” names. The church’s existence is always unstable—Jesus indeed remains independent—but the church is no less a political body. Moreover, the church-as-polis in Yoder’s vision resists the political ontologization of the church precisely because of its proleptic and secular character. The claim that the church is what the world is called to be ultimately is not a statement about the ontology of the church but about God’s work in the world to judge and redeem humanity.

Theologian of Christian Witness

Speaking of helpful secondary literature, Joseph Mangina has written a fine introduction to Karl Barth. The book is called Karl Barth: Theologian of Christian Witness. This, however, is not just one more introduction to Barth, it also brings his thought into dialogue with other (mostly) contemporary theologians, namely George Lindbeck, Robert Jenson, Henri de Lubac, Stanley Hauerwas, and Michael Wyschogrod.

New Hauerwas Audio

 

Here’s another good link, I know, it is not very creative blogging. It is a recent Q&A with Hauerwas on the book of Matthew.

Against words that dismiss

I don’t know about you but I can’t stand it when people throw around the words “liberal” and “conservative.” In almost all cases, these words are employed as a way to dismiss someone’s position before taking the time to listen. It seems that in every area of life one is subject to such labeling. Of course, this is perhaps most often seen in what passes for “political” discussions. However, it is also sadly evident in discussions of “church politics.” Of course, every country and ecclesial body have their hot-button issues on the basis of which people are pegged as either falling in the liberal or conservative camp. For instance, if you are Anglican right now and support homosexuality, then you are identified as a “liberal.” If you don’t, you are a “conservative.” End of story–end of discussion. As a side note, one reason why I think so highly of Rowan Williams is that he intentionally doesn’t clearly land on one side of the issue or the other- it is also why I think Stanley Hauerwas is worth reading. Both Williams and Hauerwas are masters of changing the terms of discussion. They seem to be acutely aware of the irreducible complexities of human life and action–and that vulnerability and openness to the strangeness of Jesus–is the proper starting point of theological reflection. It seems to me that Williams and Hauerwas teach us how to think “out of control,” to borrow the phrase of Chris Huebner.

In American politics, the term “liberal” is used to refer to folks who support homosexual unions, abortion; often, “liberals” are for higher taxes, more government involvement in social programs, and perhaps, a little less war. “Conservatives,” on the other hand, are simply the opposite of this, right? This is pretty much it! Sure, you have some people bouncing back and forth on various issues, and whatever issue “matters most” to you is where you’ll cast your vote. I think here of many Christians who are stridently pro-life, but who really want to “help” the poor or who don’t really love the war.

My point in all of this is simply to recognize that we are constantly trying to make life less complex, ultimately so that we can control it, so that we can control others, and so that we can control the outcome of history. We desperately want a black-and-white world, where there are good guys and bad guys, where what is right and what is wrong is always clear and obvious. I can already hear the Christian cries against a culture of “relativism,” but to me this doesn’t make much sense. Give me a break, there was no golden age, no time when morality wasn’t already up for grabs.

I do confess that I use the terms liberal and conservative, at times. Just as a caveat I do think the terms can be used rightly as long as terminology is clear, though they should be used sparingly. I think, for instance, it is perfectly appropriate to use the word “Liberalism” to denote the philosophy that undergirds free-market capitalism and many modern democracies. Used in this sense, it is not inherently pejorative, but simply descriptive, and in this case, the term “conservative” would not usually be used to describe opposing positions.

So, are the terms useful at all? What and who is a liberal or a conservative? Can we move beyond name-calling and reducing complex issues into oversimplified camps?

One book that changed your life

This may prove to be a most difficult question, but if you could name one book that dramatically changed your life what would it be? For me, this is a difficult question because a number of books have changed me in a variety of ways. And as I look back I realize that certain books have helped prepare the way for the impact of others. The most important book for my personal and theological development has to be Rowan Williams’ book Resurrection: Interpreting the Easter Gospel. In all honesty, this book more than any other was fundamentally integral to my faith journey. Reading this (after four years of heavy doses of biblical criticism) I began to believe in the bodily resurrection of Jesus again. Runners up include William Cavanaugh’s Theopolitical Imagination and Stanley Hauerwas’ The Peaceable Kingdom. Again, I’m not limiting this to theology books, so let’s hear it. What is the one book that dramatically changed your life? Why and in what ways?

Hauerwas on Children

… Jesus called to himself a child – the essence of one who is powerless, dependent, needy, little, and poor. He placed the child ‘in the midst of them,’ as a concrete, visible sacrament of how the Kingdom looks. Jesus’ act with the child is interesting. In many of our modern, sophisticated congregations, children are often viewed as distractions. We tolerate children only to the extent they promise to become “adults” like us. Adult members sometimes complain they cannot pay attention to the sermon, they cannot listen to the beautiful music, when fidgety children are beside them in the pews. “Send them away,” many adults say. Create “Children’s Church” so these distracting children can be removed in order that we adults can pay attention.

Interestingly, Jesus put a child in the centre of his disciples, “in the midst of them,” in order to help them pay attention. The child, in Jesus’ mind, was not an annoying distraction. The child was a last-ditch effort by God to help the disciples pay attention to the odd nature of God’s kingdom. Few acts of Jesus are more radical, countercultural, than his blessing of children.

Stanley Hauerwas, Resident Aliens (Abingdon Press, 1989) 96.

A Review of Hauerwas’ Commentary on Matthew

Stanley Hauerwas has recently published a “theological commentary” on Matthew with Brazos Press. I bought it a few weeks ago and quickly read it. I am always skeptical of “theological commentaries” or “theological reflections on the Bible” for they are often either shallow theologically or historically. Of course, the problem of a biblical scholar writing a theological commentary is that usually he or she fails to have adequate theological training. The reverse is true for the theologian who though may be theologically articulate, has little training in the biblical languages, textual-criticism, or any of the other historical-critical methods. The reality is that this is the natural consequence of specialization. As an avid reader of Hauerwas and a student of the historical-critical method I was particularly interested in this commentary. The following is my review of the book:

Hauerwas, Stanley. Matthew. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2006.

In recent centuries the task of writing biblical commentaries has almost exclusively been left in the hands of “the experts.” Due to the ever-increasing specialization of the theological disciplines and the high value placed on the pursuit of uncovering the “truth” via the utilization of modern historical-critical methods, biblical scholars have found themselves holding (even if inadvertently) a virtual monopoly on the content and nature of the Bible. To be sure, the recognition that a great historical wedge exists between the first century and the present day is nothing new, but the belief that truth about God can be known only if Christian convictions are disentangled from our reading of the biblical text, surely is. Of course, the “hijacking” of the Bible by disinterested biblical scholars has not gone on without a great deal of protest. Indeed, many theologians and biblical scholars alike have pointed out the “bankruptcy of the historical criticism.” However, many of the recent attempts to read the Bible both historically and theologically have failed to do either justice. As a result of specialization and the disinterested nature inherent in historical-critical methods, many biblical scholars have lost the ability to couple their historical findings with useful theological insight. On the other side of the fence, “like stroke victims,” theologians have forgotten the skills of careful interpretation.

The editors of the “Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible” series were not unaware of this dilemma, but they have nonetheless taken the risk to, once again, invite theologians to reflect on the Bible, not as disinterested critics but as theologians. Perhaps an even greater risk was taken when the series editors asked Stanley Hauerwas to write the commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, for in his own words, “few could be as ill prepared as I was for this task”(18). No doubt reflecting the feelings of many theologians Hauerwas laments in the preface of Matthew, “…most of the habits that come with being a theologian in modernity do not help us know how to write a theological commentary”(18). Nevertheless, true to form, Hauerwas rises to the challenge bringing his theological creativity and theo-political critique to every page of this commentary.

Unlike modern historical-critical commentaries, Hauerwas’ Matthew is not concerned about historical questions. In fact, he does not even address basic questions regarding authorship, origin, or the date of the Gospel. Instead, Hauerwas approaches the gospel as a text of the church that witnesses to the revelation who is Jesus Christ. He does not attempt to get “behind” the text or get in the mind of the author in order to find the “real” or “historical” Jesus. Rather, Hauerwas is comfortable working with the final form of the text. Because Matthew wrote in order to “make us disciples of Christ” we must in obedience “submit to Matthew’s discipline”(19). Thus, Hauerwas’ first goal is to retell the story faithfully by writing “with” the author of Matthew.While retelling the narrative first told by Matthew, Hauerwas seeks to script “our lives into the story.” Of course, by ‘our lives’ Hauerwas is referring to himself along with his foreseen audience, that is, Christians living in the United States. In his many books and articles Hauerwas has decried what he perceives as “the accommodation of the church to America,” or what his mentor John Howard Yoder referred to as “Constantinianism.” This commentary is no different; Hauerwas refuses to ignore the “privatization” of Christianity in the United States and the need for a more truthful and faithful politics. He calls for nothing less than the complete renunciation of worldly politics to be replaced by the politics of the kingdom of God. Hauerwas demonstrates that the politics of Jesus runs counter to the politics of the world. He points out that the United States is not an exception to the politics that defines the nation-states of the world, for all states secure power over others through the use of violence. For Hauerwas then, the message of Jesus as outlined by the Sermon on the Mount “is not a list of requirements, but rather a description of the life of a people gathered by and around Jesus” (61).

In the commentary Hauerwas’ recent interest in the life and work of Dietrich Bonhoeffer is also evident. Threaded throughout the work are dozens of quotes from Bonhoeffer. Hauerwas is convinced by Bonhoeffer’s emphasis on the importance of “truthful speech” and the visibility of the church. In his comments on Matthew chapter five Hauerwas talks about what it means for Christians to be the salt and light of the world. He agrees with Bonhoeffer that the church must become a people capable of truthful speech, which must always be “as visible as light in the night, as a mountain in the flatland” (63). Truthful speech is not a private affair; for Christians, visibility means nothing less than participation in an alternative politics: one that challenges the politics of death by living faithfully and obediently according to the Beatitudes.

If it has not yet become obvious, Hauerwas’ Matthew is thoroughly theological. He has not written a traditional verse-by-verse commentary. Instead, this book is much more like reading a novel. Hauerwas moves almost seamlessly from description and narrative to constructive and prescriptive theological reflections for today’s church confronted by globalized consumerism. Although he wants to be faithful to the text of Matthew, he is not overly concerned about the “intended meaning of the author” or historical context. He is looking for how the narrative told by Matthew challenges our modern assumptions about the truthfulness of democracy and liberal individualism. He does not try to adapt the content of Matthew to our new historical context; rather he points the church back to the assumptions of Matthew and the early church – that Jesus is the Son of God.Hauerwas does not state his methodology, and if there is a consistent approach, it is difficult for this reviewer to discern. At times, one wonders whether Hauerwas simply does not care about the results of historical biblical scholarship or whether he is just ignorant. At the beginning of his commentary, for instance, Hauerwas talks about the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew: “The book of the genesis of Jesus Christ.” He seems to think that Matthew has in mind the actual book of Genesis or at least the origins of humanity. It becomes clear that Hauerwas thinks this way because he makes certain assumptions about Matthew’s Christology. Whereas most modern critical scholarship has argued that Matthew has a “low” or underdeveloped Christology that would have no concept of a pre-existent Jesus, Hauerwas seems to presuppose that Matthew would have affirmed the traditional creeds of the church. Once again, it is difficult to know whether Hauerwas is ignorant of scholarship on this issue, or whether he just does not care. After all, he is writing a theological commentary that attempts to bring Christian convictions to the text.

Despite the existence of a few more historical errors like the one above, Hauerwas generally manages to be faithful to the content of Matthew. His lack of historical commentary actually allows more space for theological reflection on the narrative of Matthew, something which Hauerwas does exceptionally well. Surely a better understanding of modern research on the subject could have strengthened this commentary, but this does not take away from the theological insights of the commentary. In the tradition of Yoder, Hauerwas helps to shed light on the social and political significance of the gospel. Furthermore, he reshapes our concepts and assumptions about what is private and what is public about faith. Above all, Hauerwas wants to point out that the church is called to a higher standard of speech and living. In order to be faithful to Jesus he calls the church to become better witnesses to the kingdom of heaven by speaking truth and the peace of God in a world that secures kingdoms through deceit and violence.