Roger E. Olson

I put “fundamentalism” in scare quotes to distinguish its use here from its proper, historical-theological use. It’s proper historical-theological use has to do with the movement of conservative Protestants to oppose theological liberalism in denominations and seminaries (etc.) that arose in the early 20th century and with its various manifestations past and present. In that proper sense, there is no “fundamentalism of the left.”

However, many people (including yours truly occasionally) use “fundamentalism” to designate a certain mindset and style of argumentation especially within religious circles. That is, it is often used in popular speech (what the Germans call Umgangsprache) to designate an ethos exhibited by individuals or groups. That ethos is usually understood to include a very black-and-white view of complicated issues, a tendency to absolutize doctrinal and moral beliefs most people would consider secondary (at best), and a tendency to use almost any means to oppose, marginalize, silence opponents’ views.

Let me be clear: I do NOT think most “real fundamentalists” (in the historical-theological sense) are “fundamentalists” in the popular ethos sense. Somehow or other, the label was drawn from the historical-theological phenomenon and applied to a certain mentality and pattern of behavior discernible across the spectrum of theological (and sometimes political) views.

I wish there were a different label for mean-spirited religious absolutism. But perhaps one has to go with the flow of language and accept that “fundamentalism” is now widely understood in that sense. That is the sense I mean here when I speak about a “fundamentalism of the left.”

I have been around Christian people and organizations all of my life. I’ve been peripatetic in that regard–having been involved in religious organizations of many different kinds: Pentecostal, charismatic, “mainline” liberal, moderate, fundamentalist, etc. I have observed that some self-identified liberals (theologically, socially, politically) can be just as “fundamentalist” in the popular-ethos sense as extreme conservatives.

One area where this is apparent is the debate over homosexuality among Christians. There are “fundamentalists” on both sides–among those who oppose normalizing of homosexuality (religiously, ethically, socially, politically) and among those who promote it.

I attended a meeting of a professional society of theologians at which the president of the society took opportunity to stand before the diverse members (conservative Protestants, Catholics, liberal Protestants, etc.) to pass around a declaration about homosexuality for signatures. He more than implied that to decline to sign the pro-gay declaration, which would be disseminated in the name of the society, would be the moral equivalent of racism. He knew full well that some present, including most of the Catholics professors of theology, would lose their jobs if they signed the declaration. In my opinion, at that moment, that professional society president was behaving in a fundamentalist manner (in the ethos sense). This is just one example of what I call “fundamentalism of the left.”

Of course, such “fundamentalist” behavior is common among those who oppose homosexuality including equal rights for gay people. But we hear about that all the time.

It is almost impossible to talk or write about homosexuality without being given the “fundamentalist treatment” by people on one or both sides of the issue.

Not long ago I wrote a column advocating civil unions for any two adults. I argued that “marriage,” being a religious institution, should be left to churches, synagogues and other religious organizations. I was vilified by people on both sides of the homosexuality debate. For many gay rights advocates, that’s not enough. For many anti-gay activists that’s too big a concession.

Recently I have been called an “anti-gay activist” for no other reason than that I argued (here) that IF homosexuality is biological/genetic, which I suspect it is, that does not settle the issue of the moral status of homosexual behavior. I used pedophilia as an example of something that MAY BE biological/genetic that nobody would argue is morally right. I most certainly was NOT comparing homosexuality with pedophilia MORALLY. To say that I was is to demonstrate intellectual weakness or dishonesty. I MIGHT be completely in favor of normalizing homosexuality morally, socially and politically AND STILL argue that science cannot settle the issue morally. Nothing I wrote gave any indication of where I stand on the moral status of homosexuality.

And yet, one visitor here posted to his blog that I compared homosexuality with pedophilia. That’s ridiculous. The only comparison I drew was that both MIGHT BE biologically/genetically determined (as predispositions). That says nothing at all, whatsoever, about my moral estimation of them. That was simply and purely description and not at all prescription. The ONLY prescription I was making was against science being viewed as the arbiter of morality.

All one has to do to experience the “fundamentalism of the left” is tiptoe into the mine field that is the debate over homosexuality. One cannot even make non-prescriptive claims (such as that science cannot settle the morality of the issue) without risking vilification.

The question of megachurches arises frequently. Recently someone here reported that an influential Baptist seminary president asked whether megachurches are the new liberalism. I’m not sure what that even means. “Megachurch” is a sociological phenomenon with theological implications. “Liberalism” (in this context, anyway) is a theological phenomenon. I am not aware of any sociological phenomenon called “liberalism” (when “liberalism” is used theologically). So, the question itself puzzles me. Perhaps the seminary president was thinking of cultural accommodation. Liberal theology has been called “maximal acknowledgement of the claims of modernity” (Claude Welch). Megachurches have been accused of being “church lite”–Christianity accommodated to consumerism. So, many critics of megachurches see them as ecclesiastical accommodation to American consumerism in a manner analogous to liberal theology as accommodation of Christian theology to modern thought (e.g., naturalism).

This past week I spend several days in and around one of America’s best known megachurches. It happens to be, like many of them, theologically conservative. At least on paper, in terms of stated beliefs and ethical commitments. From a certain theological perspective it might even be viewed as fundamentalist. Being there certainly raised thoughts about the megachurch phenomenon–especially as I had just recently been asked about the seminary president’s question.

The megachurch phenomenon as has been studied and discussed quite thoroughly in Christianity Today and Christian Century and in numerous books about megachurches. One thing I find helpful is to look to history. People seem to think that megachurches are new–appearing only in the last two or three decades. Most people trace the phenomenon back to Willow Creek Community Church in Chicago’s suburbs. Depending on how one defines “megachurch,” of course, it may go back much farther.

I suspect that when people criticize megachurches, more often than not, what they are really criticizing is “seeker sensitive” Christianity. But, of course, the two things are separable (unless, of course, you simply define “megachurch” as “seeker sensitive church lite.” But, of course, there’s nothing in the word “megachurch” that requires or even implies that.

In such discussions we need to separate issues clearly. Are we talking about size or ethos? Most of the criticism, I think, is aimed at ethos.

The megachurch I visited this past week certainly has the external appearance of the ethos people criticize. The physical aspect of the church is that of a college campus–many buildings spread out over a large area with several huge parking lots. Everything about it reeks of consumerism. It has the “feel” of an outdoor shopping mall. It has three restaurants, playgrounds, picnic areas, colorful buildings, amazing signage, fountains and waterfalls, etc. The youth building is larger than most large churches.

The point critics make became clearer to me as I walked around the church’s campus. The “feel” was the same–moving from a major mall in an affluent suburb to this church. I looked in vain for anything that clearly marked it as sacred space. Only in the “sanctuary” (a large, darkened auditorium with literally tons of technical equipment for sound and light) did I see a religious symbol–a cross that was dwarfed by the massive steel and glass.

All of that is surface, however. In my opinion, it’s not unimportant, but it’s not directly relevant to theology UNLESS the absence of symbolism was intentional. I have no way of knowing that. And much smaller churches, even fundamentalist ones, are just as lacking in Christian symbolism.

Before commenting theologically, let me just say that, in terms of size and ethos, megachurches are nothing new. Again, people could benefit from knowing a little history.

Let’s go backwards. Willow Creek was certainly NOT the first megachurch–even in the sociological sense of seeker sensitive ethos. I remember quite a bit of controversy about Rex Humbard’s Cathedral of Tomorrow in Ohio. The building was built in 1958 and Rex and Maude Aimee were on television throughout the 1960s and 1970s. It was a show with lots of entertainment (especially quartets–this is where the gospel quartet “the Cathedrals” got their name). The people I grew up among criticized Humbard and his church for “hiding” their Pentecostalism in order to draw in large numbers. To what extent that was true, I don’t know. But the accusation was identical to the one many conservative evangelicals have leveled against Willow Creek and Saddleback and other megachurches–of softening the gospel and watering down Christian particularity in order to attract crowds.

Going back further: Melodyland Christian Center in Anaheim, California reaped a whirlwind of controversy for using entertainment to attract crowds.

Going back further: Jack Hyles’ First Baptist Church of Hammond, Indiana. The accusation was that Jack and his pastoral team went out into poor neighborhoods with buses to bring hundreds, if not thousands, of unchurched children to church using various manipulative techniques simply to achieve size.

Going back much further: Perhaps America’s first real megachurch (in terms not only of size but of ethos) was Angelus Temple in Los Angeles. Aimee Semple MacPherson was accused by critics of attracting large audiences with theatrics such as riding down the aisle on a motorcycle and popping out of a casket.

The whole controversy about megachurches is been around for a long time. Only the terminology is new. Before there were megachurches there were evangelists such as Charles Finney who was accused of using “new measures” such as the “anxious bench.” And, of course, Billy Sunday who said he could get a soul saved for $3.

I do wonder about two things. First, can a church larger than a few hundred people really function as a New Testament ecclesia? It seems to me that church discipline was a necessary part of New Testament church life. How does a megachurch do church discipline? Yes, the standard answer to all such questions is life groups or what used to be called “cell churches.” But if the cell or group functions as the real church in the New Testament sense, why have the large church? The standard answer is that the large church, gathering only on Sundays, can accomplish more good for the kingdom of God than little churches meeting in homes. In that case, then, megachurches are simply replacing denominations. Then the question becomes how well can a person really worship God in a crowd of several thousand? Do these mass worship services tend to become spectator events?

Second, do contemporary megachurches tend to draw huge crowds by making Christianity feel like consumerism? Isn’t the feel of the megachurch campus much the same as the feel of a mall or shopping center? Does the megachurch phenomenon tend to reinforce American consumerist values and attitudes? Is Christianity without symbols or sacred space the same as with them? (This is a question more about ethos than size, but many critics see a correlation between them in the contemporary megachurch phenomenon.)

Personally, I would not attend a megachurch. I am certainly not accusing megachurches of heresy or anything like that. I just think the New Testament pattern was for relatively small congregations that broke up into two whenever they grew too large for spiritual intimacy (e.g., accountability). I cannot picture a New Testament megachurch. Yes, according to Acts three thousand were saved on the Day of Pentecost, but I doubt that they all then were swept up into one congregation that met together every Sunday. And I doubt the apostles would have done it that way even if it were legally possible.

I agree with Emil Bunner who argued in The Misunderstanding of the Church that the church was intended to be a fellowship and both institutionalism and size can get in the way of fellowship. And I worry that size can be a reflection of American obsession with wealth and power and individualism.

I did not get to hear Alvin Plantinga when he spoke at my university a couple weeks ago. His topic was theology and science. He has a new book about it that I plan to read (when I have a month to digest it!).

Several people have asked me here about what role I think science does play in theology. That’s because I rejected as invalid “Dear Abby’s” claim that modern science has made the Bible’s view of homosexuality invalid. I said that science can’t do that.

The argument is that if science proves (as some allege has happened) that sexual orientation is biological/genetic, then we have to believe that same sex sexual behavior is morally right. The usual caveat is that it must be mutual and not coercive. And, of course, that it must be between consenting adults.

The reason this doesn’t touch the traditional Christian stance about sex outside of heterosexual marriage is that traditional Christianity has always taught that we are all fallen and born with sinful inclinations (orientations). Science proving that homosexual desire is biological/genetic wouldn’t affect that belief any more than science proving that men are naturally inclined toward sexual promiscuity would force Christians to alter their belief about sexual promiscuity. (One could go on and talk about alcoholism and numerous other conditions that may very well be biological/genetic but not therefore morally good to act on.)

The larger issue, of course, is whether you can ever derive an “ought” (moral imperative positive or negative) from an “is.” Science deals ONLY with “is.” Ethics deals with “ought.” The latter cannot be based on the former in a causal relationship. Certainly what is the case may have some bearing on decisions about what ought to be the case, but what is the case can never determine what ought to be the case. By definition “ought” goes beyond “is.”

Oughtness requires something transcendent to nature. Attempting to derive ought from is is called the “naturalistic fallacy.” Whether a certain sexual behavior is right or wrong cannot be determined by observing nature–even by observing what people do that they cannot help.

Illustration: Let’s suppose that the day arrives when science demonstrates conclusively that pedophilia is biological/genetic. I do not know of anyone who would argue that that would result in our having to conclude that adults preying on children is okay.

I have been told by scientists that it is just as likely that, in some people, alcohol addiction is genetic as that homosexual orientation is genetic. Yet I know of no one who argues that abusing alcohol (or abusing oneself with it) is good or right or even neutral. It’s a bad thing that people ought not to do.

None of this speaks to other issues such as what ought our attitude toward people who do what they ought not to do be. That’s a secondary issue. Nor does any of this speak to issues of punishment or treatment or anything like that. Those are all secondary issues that come up AFTER it is decided that a certain behavior is wrong.

My point here is not about homosexuality or alcoholism or any other specific orientation or behavior. It is only about the relationship between science and morality/ethics. It is simply a logical fallacy to think that what science discovers determines the rightness or wrongness of anything. There is an unbridgeable gulf between science that sticks to its sphere of research and proper methods and ethics. You cannot get from one to the other.

Now, having said that, I qualify that I am NOT arguing that ethicists (or theologians) ought to ignore science or vice versa. Of course not. The disciplines can and should communicate. Science needs ethics to guide how it handles sentient subjects in research, for example. And ethics needs science to tell it what is possible which can be helpful in determining proper punishments or treatments for (for example) criminals who do what they cannot avoid doing.

But simply to leap from the “fact” (the jury is still out) that homosexuality is biological/genetic to that same sex intercourse, for example, is morally acceptable is logically fallacious. At most all one could conclude (if one is a naturalist, for example) is that it is normal for some people. To go anywhere in determining moral rightness or wrongness one has to transcend what is natural or normal.

Now, there’s much more to this subject than what I have said here. For example, to what extent should theology adjust its doctrines based on scientific inquiry and proven conclusions? There I will appeal to and agree with Charles Hodge (who agreed with Galileo’s Letter to the Grand Duchess Christina) that theology cannot and should not ignore facts. Whenever science (of any branch) proves something (i.e., it becomes undeniable fact), theology must adjust to that. However, theology does not have to adjust to theories. All of that assumes that science stays in its proper boundaries.  For example, that the earth revolves around the sun is fact and lies within the purview of science. Whether a certain behavior is right is not within science’s purview.

In a recent column a Christian woman asked “Dear Abby” (Pauline Phillips) about God and homosexuality. Her son came out to her and she was afraid to ask her pastor about God’s attitude toward gay people because she was afraid of what he would say. So she wrote to “Abby” asking her how God views homosexuality. Abby’s response was predictable–that science had shown the Bible to be unreliable on this subject and that entrance to heaven depends on a person’s character only.

This illustrates a pattern I see among Americans including many American Christians. The Christian band “Casting Crowns” has a phrase in one song urging Christians to “stop asking Oprah what to do.” Amen to that! And I add (for Christians, at least) ”stop asking Dear Abby or any other advice columnist or TV talk show host (etc.) what to do!”

Why do people, including some Christians, think that a person can give competent theological advice just because he or she writes a nationally syndicated column or hosts a television talk show? That simply baffles me. It baffles me so much it leaves me bewildered.

A few years ago someone wrote to ask a nationally syndicated columnist what makes a life worth living. Her answer was (paraphrasing) that a life is worth living so long as it produces more than it consumes. Didn’t anybody else notice that that was the very belief that led to the Nazi program of killing thousands of people in German hospitals during the 1930s just because they were deemed incapable of contributing to society?

Also, did nobody else notice that her (the columnist’s) answer is right if there is no God? And that only someone who does not believe in God could say such a thing?

I have been a Christian theologian for almost 30 years. I think I have a reputation for making theology relatively simple to understand. And yet, throughout those years of teaching in church-related institutions and churches I have rarely been asked a theological question by anyone except students in my classes (or former students).

And I know that’s not only my experience. Most theologians I have talked to relate the same experience of rarely being asked for theological advice or insight or even guidance (to finding answers).

Once a church I belonged to appointed an ad hoc committee to consider a major change in membership requirements. I volunteered to serve on the committee but was excluded (twice). When I asked several people associated with the process why no theologian was on the committee I was informed it wasn’t a theological issue. Huh?

Now, maybe in my case it’s just me. That is, maybe I’m just not the kind of person lay people or pastors feel comfortable approaching for advice. I don’t think so, but it’s possible. But this isn’t just about me. I notice that many Christians (to say nothing of non-Christians!) ask theological questions of people who have no theological training at all.

I would venture to say that America’s leading theologians are people like Joel Osteen (I’m not aware of any formal theological training on his part), Oprah Winfrey, and Dear Abby. “Christian” bookstores’ shelves are full of books on theological subjects by people with no formal biblical or theological training. I can’t begin to tell you how many “testimonies” I have heard from people spouting theological ideas based on “This is what I heard God saying to me.”

American Christianity is sunk in a swamp of subjectivism and individualism–theological and religious populism–where everyone’s opinion is as good as everyone else’s and better if they are nationally read columnists or talk show hosts (or musicians or whatever).

Is there a solution to this? Well, obviously, the desired solution would be for columnists, talk show hosts and others to defer to theologians. But I doubt they know any. A better solution would be for pastors and other church leaders to place more value on their theologians–the ones in their own congregations and/or educational institutions.

Here I post two e-mails that typify responses I’ve received from individuals about Against Calvinism. I’m not going to comment on them, just reproduced them here. I’ll let you, my faithful readers, decide what you think and comment on them. I’ve removed anything that would identify their authors.

First:

“I recently read your book, Against Calvinism.  I first became aware of your work when I heard the debate you participated in with Dr. Horton on the White Horse Inn podcast.  I have leaned towards the Calvinist view of God’s sovereignty and will for the past few years and was eager to read your response to the parts of the TULIP that are particularly difficult for my finite mind to fully understand, being distorted by my sinful nature.  To make it more interesting, my friend and I actually purchased both your book and Dr. Horton’s book to have a well-rounded presentation from both sides of the argument.  My sincere hope is to be challenged in my understanding of this topic because I affirm what was said in your debate, that this is not a small theological matter but one of great importance, influencing everything from how we evangelize to how we view the Church.

I don’t want to waste any of your time because I know that you are a busy man, so I will cut straight to the point.  I am very concerned with the way in which you approached your stance against Calvinism in your book.  While I understand that you may disagree with the TULIP and many of the “young, restless, and Reformed” crowd, I do not believe that you made any compelling case for a non-Calvinist view.  What I was most disappointed in with this work was the lack of Scriptural support for your views.  I am certainly open to the plausible arguments that challenge my understanding of theology (because I stand firmly convinced that God uses the Body to sharpen itself) but these views MUST be based from Scripture.  My concern is that the same “Reformed” pastors that you make sure to rebuke, all boldly offer Scriptural support for their statements, even if you do feel that it is being used out of context.  Instead of rebuking them with Scripture that you believe says something on the contrary, it felt as if you went for an almost secular, agnostic approach to point out what you believe to be cracks in their philosophical foundations.

Secondly, while trying to point out what you feel is erroneous or even heretical within the TULIP, it often felt much more like you were putting God, the Omnipotent, on trial.  I feel like I must warn you of the dangerous ground you inhabit by suggesting that if God is indeed the God of Calvinism, that you would not only cease to worship Him, but would refuse Him entirely.  You and I are fallen creatures with distorted perceptions of truth, goodness, love, etc. For us, having been given revelation by God and redeemed by the blood of Christ, to suggest that if our theology is challenged on this subject that we would walk away from this God, who has no need to prove Himself to us, is utterly foolish.  This kind of spiritual immaturity painfully parallels that in Romans 9.

Dr. Olson, I believe that you are fellow brother in Christ but I pray diligently that you would reconsider your argument as well as your words.  Such talk seems much more suited for causing division and stumbling than for building up the Bride of Christ.  While I will remain open to reproof concerning this argument, because I believe that we are biblically called to do so, I hope that are reminded that we have finite minds and must take great caution while pointing our finger at the Infinite God.  Thank you for your time.”

Second,