Friday, October 31, 2008

Education& Soulcraft

by Gilbert Meilaender (reviewing Stanley Fish, Save the World on Your Own Time)*

“What we can do in the classroom is, roughly what Fish says we can (and should) attempt; impart knowledge and develop skills needed to analyze ideas. We can give training in critical reflection about how different individuals and traditions have proposed that we should live. We can, on our good days or good semesters, produce students who think more clearly, critically, and reflectively about such questions. And, if we’ve really done well, we may even produce students who realize that critical thought is by no means the whole of moral life. It is what can be done in the classroom, what a college professor might be trained to do if he attempts not to save the world but to do his job. . . . .

“Moments of grace, divine dispensations, cannot be programmed or delivered according to any method within our control. The result of what we do in the classroom, whether we produce students who are creative or virtuous, is, as Fish says several times, a wholly contingent matter.

“The typical academician today is likely to think that we should be humble about our ability to know the truth but devoted to programmatic attempts to shape and form students’ characters. Fish thinks, rightly, that this locates humility in just the wrong place, in the process giving us a good conscience about shaping the souls of our students. We should be devoted to the pursuit of truth, aware that no one can say for sure what the effect of our teaching will be in our students’ lives, humbly prepared to keep our hands off those students’ souls.

“It ought to be Christians–and, probably, religious believers of other stripes–who know this. We know that we cannot program grace and that a moment of felicity will be required if what we do in the classroom turns out to shape the character of our students in desirable ways. So we should sharpen the intellect as best we can; we should pursue truth in matters we teach; we should transmit knowledge and the skills required to gain and extend that knowledge–but we should not try to produce or control what must be contingent and felicitous.”

*First Things (November, 2008), 35, 36.

Reformation Day, Again

Maybe you sang “A Mighty Fortress is our God” last Sunday, or will sing it next Sunday. Some may celebrate Reformation rallies in large auditoriums, but they occur less frequently.

How long can you maintain the fervor of newly discovered faith? How long did it take Israel before the excitement of arriving in Canaan deteriorated into doing what the Canaanites did? Or the Christians in Corinth or Rome? Enthusiasm for the faith once for all delivered to the saints has never been without its challenges.

Reformations have occurred with some regularity. In the days of the Judges God sent his servants to provide rest for a repentant people and King Josiah renewed temple worship in ancient Israel, only years before the exile. Reforms emerged in 10th century Cluny and later in 16th century Western Europe. These were followed by the Second Reformation of the 17th century and beyond, and the reforming “schisms” of the 19th and 20th centuries. Reformation is what the church does when it acknowledges it has followed other than the “old, old story.”

How long do the effects of any reformation last? Josiah’s reformation was doomed to failure because of Manasseh who came before him (2 Kings 23:25-26). Several small, Reformed Churches still drink at the well of the Second Reformation. But what of the larger, Presbyterian and Reformed, churches? So much has changed since the 16th century Reformation. Few today would despise Roman Catholics; that would be too insensitive. Doctrinal disputes about the nature of justification, election and reprobation not only diminish the participants, but overlook the problem with truth. How do we today know they were right then? Then there is the increasing ennui with our 16th and 17th century confessions. Some are suggesting they were useful for their time, not so much for us today.

What has changed enormously compared to the time of the Reformation is the culture in which the contemporary church finds itself. The 16th century Reformation occurred in a Christian Church and state culture. The magistrate was encouraged to promote Christianity and not other religions. Reasons for reformation then emerged from concerns about the free communication of God’s grace in preaching and sacraments, abuse of episcopal office and the role of the laity in a worship held in Latin, to name but a few. Those raising the questions were not interested in leaving the church, but in reforming it. Yet some were excommunicated for their efforts, and others followed them. Thus were born the churches of the Reformation.

Some of these churches have almost five hundred years of historical experience, many with a number of their own reformations. These churches themselves have changed since the Reformation and continue to change. But are there any similarities between us and the time of the Reformation?

Replacing the Roman Catholic altar with a pulpit for proclaiming the Word characterized Reformation era churches. What do we do with pulpits today? What do they mean today? Do they communicate the same emphasis on the proclamation of the Word and the subordination of the sacraments to the Word? Reformation arguments against indulgences, payments to reduce time in purgatory, were part of the promotion of the free gift of grace and life eternal, and liberated many from false and abusive church practices. Today many pulpits (and platforms) proclaim the clear gospel of health and wealth to reduce earthly debt and suffering (and please send in a donation). Reformation believers knew that this world was filled with devils, and we may even sing that part of Luther’s famous hymn this week. But in an age of electricity, genetic engineering, and telescopes peering into the universe’s past, belief in the existence of angels and demons is deemed quaint. Who or what are the participants in the contemporary religious struggles?

When we think about the 16th century Reformation this week, what will we remember? Do the burning issues of that time remain important today? How are grace preached and sacraments administered? How is ecclesiastical office exercised and justification is experienced?. And what about the fact we no longer live in a Christian, but decidedly pluralist, culture in which Christianity is no longer the privileged religion, but others are? What might lead us to work for a much needed reformation in our time? Is our piety too worldly or self-indulgent? Is our worship more about us than about God? Do we, or should we, worry about our eternal destiny?

Whatever may be the case for reformation today, Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress is our God” continues to be relevant. It gets at the essentials: God and his victory over sin and evil, our own inability to improve our spiritual condition and total dependence on Christ, trust in God and his victory over all that seeks to undo the church (them devils); and the gift of the Spirit. Especially challenging for every age are these words: “Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also, the body they may kill; God’s truth abideth still; his kingdom is forever.”

ACL

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Suffering wealth: It depends on the kind of person you are

Augustine of Hippo

“Wherefore, though good and bad men suffer alike, we must not suppose that there is no difference between the men themselves, because there is no difference in what they both suffer. For even in the likeness of the sufferings, there remains an unlikeness in the sufferers; and though exposed to the same anguish, virtue and vice are not the same thing. For as the same fire causes gold to glow brightly, and chaff to smoke; and under the same flail the straw is beaten small, while the grain is cleansed; and as the lees are not mixed with the oil, though squeezed out of the vat by the same pressure, so the same violence of affliction proves, purges, clarifies the good, but damns, ruins, exterminates the wicked. And thus it is that in the same affliction the wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise. So material a difference does it make, not what ills are suffered, but what kind of man suffers them. For, stirred up with the same movement, mud exhales a horrible stench, and ointments emit a fragrant odour.”

“Thus our Paulinus, bishop of Nola, who voluntarily abandoned vast wealth and became quite poor, though abundantly rich in holiness, when the barbarians sacked Nola, and took him prisoner, used silently to pray, as he afterwards told me, ‘O Lord, let me not be troubled for gold and silver, for where all my treasure is Thou knowest.’ For all his treasure was where he had been taught to hide and store it by Him who had also foretold that these calamities would happen in the world. Consequently those persons who obeyed their Lord when He warned them where and how to lay up treasure, did not lose even their earthly possessions in the invasion of the barbarians; while those who are now repenting that they did not obey Him have learnt the right use of earthly goods, if not by the wisdom which would have prevented their loss, at least by the experience which follows it.”


The City of God, trans. Marcus Dods (New York: Modern Library, 1950), I.8,10.

Generous orthodoxy: Everybody’s a theologian, not!

You may have read about the politicians who took the opportunity to redefine their church’s theological position to score political points. Maybe you haven’t. It was about abortion rights and the beginning of life, and American politicians: Pelosi and Biden recently; Kerry and Cuomo some years ago. All are members of the Roman Catholic Church (RCC).

Support of their party’s pro-abortion rights position already placed them athwart of the RCC’s centuries long pro-life, anti-abortion rights declarations. Consequently there have been calls for refusing them and other RCC politicians who hold similar view participation in the eucharist. Indignant ripostes declared this “religious interference in political affairs.” Few talked about political interference in church affairs. Until Pelosi and Biden offered their theological positions.

On Meet the Press, Pelosi reported that the RCC has been unable to define the beginning of life; Biden wielded Aquinas on “quickening.” Responding that both Augustine and Aquinas opposed abortion, RCC theologians politely suggested that Pelosi may have been confused and Biden not fully understood. The RCC archbishop of Denver was quoted as saying: “Meet the Press has become a national window on the flawed moral reasoning of some Catholic public servants.” (Weekly Standard [September 29, 2008], 27). These and other recent attempts to support a political platform by appeal to the subjectivity of religious faith were shattered on the hard rock of the RCC’s commitment to its position on the beginning of life as objective fact. Imagine that, the faith of ordinary members of the church being called to account by professional theologians. What do they know of the real world?

Along with “Virginia Slims” church members have come a long way by excitedly celebrating their newly found freedom not to be bound by truths of the past. Ignorant of church history they boldly go where they think noone has gone before, thus betraying the typical arrogance of youth that believes no one has had a good thought before them. Usually the young learn that the past has many things to offer the present; not so anymore. Today young and old tend to believe that what they believe is most important, that church officials have no real authority to define matters of faith for them, even if they are members of the church in question. And documents written at the time of the Reformation? How can they be meaningful for the 21st century?

In an age of political correctness with its clear definitions of heresy (think of how extreme feminists responded to McCain’s selection of Sarah Palin), it is ironic that eternal values may only be fuzzy to fit the greatest number, that orthodoxy must be generous and inclusive to a fault. At a time when we value diversity of all kinds, encourage particular cultural expressions to the exclusion of the majority groups (the oppressor class), genuine doctrinal and ecclesiastical differences within the Christian family must be ignored, especially if we want to be inclusive.

Christian doctrine, however, never was, and cannot be, the product of private interpretation or personal preference. The apostle Peter (2 Peter 1:20-21) reminds his readers of that with respect to the prophets. How much more with us? A brief examination of the history of the church also discloses that there are good and not so good ways of thinking about Scripture; that good decisions take time. Think only about how long it took the church to think about the relationship between God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Or how we think about the nature of Scripture? But within the agreed upon definitions there are ongoing discussions. Usually in agreed upon terms. Everybody is not a theologian. Everyone is not a good reader of Scripture.

By the way. Like the Reformation confessions, the Scriptures were also written centuries ago. Are they still useful for the 21st century? Have we outgrown them? Is the Apostle Paul just a dead Jewish theologian who has no more to say to today’s theological issues than yesterday’s bright-eyed convert? Are we too generous with our own thoughts about God and generously stingy with “the faith once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3)? Was Paul wrong to warn the young pastor Timothy to be aware of those who wanted to hear new and interesting things (2 Tim. 4:2-5)?

True generosity lets Scripture and the deep treasury of the church’s theological reflections on it, create in us a deep humility for the inheritance of truth we have received from those who have confessed the faith before us.

ACL