Richard John Neuhaus*
“I have frequently cautioned against the propensity of some conservatives, especially Evangelicals, to claim that ours is a post-Christian society. That is, I contend, an easy out from engaging the tasks that are ours in an incorrigibly, confusedly, and conflictedly Christian America.
“[David B.] Hart sets out another consideration to which we should attend: ‘For, if we succumb to post-Christian modernity, and set the limits of its vision, what then? Most of us will surrender to a passive decay of will and aspiration, perhaps, find fewer reasons to resist as government insinuates itself into the little liberties of the family, continue to seek out hitherto unsuspected insensitivities to denounce and prejudices to extirpate, allow morality to give way to sentimentality; the impetuous among us will attempt to enjoy Balzac, or take up herb gardening, or discover “issues”; a few dilettantish amoralists will ascertain that everything is permitted and dabble in bestiality or cannibalism; the rest of us will mostly watch television; crime rates will rise more steeply and birthrates fall more precipitously; being the “last men,” we shall think ourselves at the end of history; an occasional sense of pointlessness of it all will induce in us a certain morose feeling of impotence (but what can one do?); and, in short, we shall become Europeans (but without the vestiges of the old civilization ranged about us to soothe our despondency).’
“Hart acknowledges that he is not original in observing that ‘the vestigial Christianity if the old world presents one with the pathetic spectacle of shape without energy, while the quite robust Christianity of the new world presents one with the disturbing spectacle of energy without shape.’
“It is reasonable to believe that a more churchly and culture-forming shape of Christianity may be in process through efforts such as Evangelicals and Catholics Together and new Christian initiatives in philosophy, literature, and the arts. There are, to be sure, formidable obstacles but, if we resist the temptation to resign ourselves to ours being a post-Christian society, such initiatives could bear impressive fruit in the short term of the next hundred years or so. And in the long term, who knows what might happen?”
Agreed. But do we have the energy to maintain confessional orthodoxy?
* The Best of “The Public Square.” Book Three (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 61-62.
Careless “good”ness
Short like Zaccheus, he made the best of that Sunday morning. After he moved the large Bible off the pulpit and on to the floor, the seminarian mounted the Bible and proceeded with the service, standing on the Word. This true story was told and retold with some relish during the late 60s into the early 70s when long hair and beards were still frowned upon, and colored shirts just began to appear on pulpits. The daring act affirmed the “revolutionary” nature of the times. And the desire for Orthodoxy. With anti-Barthian pride the seminarian confirmed to the consistory that he had truly stood on the Word. He may have been ready for his classical exam, but the consistory was not convinced of his orthodoxy.
How interestingly quaint. Pulpit Bibles on the pulpit. Today we more often find them off the pulpit and on the Lord’s Supper table, even on the organ (if you still have one, and the console is at the front). Anywhere but the pulpit. Pulpit Bibles, you see, are awkward. Sermon notes slip from them; you can’t walk around with them open in one hand; and, they’re obviously out of place on an acrylic pulpit. But even the big Bibles still on pulpits show how little they are used: they lay open to the same two dog-eared pages, somewhere in the Psalms.
Of course, ministers still preach from the Bible, and pulpits usually provide a pew Bible stored within or on the side. Some years ago, however, I had to go to the first pew to find one for pulpit use. Had I brought my own Bible there would not have been a problem that day. But then that would have been my personal Bible (people could have been amazed at how worn it was).
But Reformed worship is not about the minister, and certainly not about a personal Bible. Actually, it’s about the function of the pulpit. The Reformation replaced the altar with the pulpit; not sacrifice, but the Word assumed center stage. The minister would stand behind the pulpit on which a large Bible lay open. The preacher was subordinate to the Word.
Theological symbols have taken a backseat in contemporary liturgical vehicles. Pulpits, baptismal fonts, and Lord Supper tables are moved around without thought to what is being communicated. Sometimes from week to week. Preachers move around like entertainers, to get away from “elevating themselves,” which remaining behind the pulpit evidently does. It’s what people prefer, many say. But doesn’t walking all over emphasize the preacher? Where do the congregation’s eyes go? During this energetic presentation the pulpit remains empty, diminished, no longer central. In choosing energy we neglect our shape. It’s all so careless.
No less so than our everyday language. Take the following conversation:
“Good morning. How are you?”
“ I’m good.”
“No one is good, except God.”
“What????”
I know. Language changes. The rules of one age get thrown out in the next. “Ain’t” is now acceptable, as is “they” in the place of the traditional “he” to cover plural subjects that include men and women. I still like the traditional answer: “Fine, how are you?”
All issues of language change aside, Christians live by a story which includes the exchange between that rich young man who asked Jesus, “What good thing must I do to get eternal life.” After Jesus asked the young man why he asked that question, he said: “There is only One who is good.” If that is true, should committed Christians ever say, “I’m good”?
No one is intentionally trying to take God’s place when they say, “I’m good.” Nevertheless, using that locution, as does the culture around us, gives a totally different impression in the Christian community than, “Fine.” In the context of the parable about the rich young man, the phrase “I’m good,” is a like a finger nail scratching on the blackboard of Christian self-awareness. And it’s all so careless. Careless about who we are, what defines us, and how we communicate that.
In view of our careless liturgical language and daily speech, Paul’s word to the Ephesians about living as children of light, is worth remembering: “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen” (Eph. 4:29). That’s good, and orthodox.
ACL
