The Grace of Moses (Phillip Camp)

Last updated on: August 15, 2015 at 4:29 pm By Scot McKnight

Phillip Camp is an Associate Professor of Bible in Lipscomb University’s Hazelip School of Theology and in the College of Bible of Ministry. His latest book is Living as the Community of God: Moses Speaks to the Church in Deuteronomy (CrossLink, 2014).

Moses Speaks to the Church in Deuteronomy: A Book of Grace

Deuteronomy is a book of grace. A book of the Law is a book of grace? Yes. The Law—Moses’ Law—and grace are not antithetical, though many regard them that way. I understand that Paul draws a distinction between justification by law and justification by grace through faith. I am not talking about salvation through Law-keeping. I don’t think Israel thought God saved them through keeping the Law. God saved them in the exodus, and not because of anything they did. He saved them to fulfill his promises to the ancestors. If grace is understood as God’s gift and God’s unmerited favor, then the Law, including Deuteronomy, is God’s grace to Israel. While there are difficult and unsettling passages that any interpreter must address, a number of factors point to Deuteronomy as a book of grace.

First, Deuteronomy represents the stipulations of a covenant between Israel and the God who delivered them from slavery in Egypt. In fact, as many have noted, the form of Deuteronomy itself resembles an ancient covenant form. As far as we know, no other ancient nation understood itself to be bound in such a covenant relationship with its god. Israel’s God binds himself to the people in a mutual relationship of love and obligation. They are not equal partners in the relationship. God is God, and they are his people, his subjects. Still, God binds himself to this unlikely people in an enduring covenant. Through the covenant and its laws, God shows Israel what love of God and love of neighbor look like.

Second, Deuteronomy is a book of grace because it presents God’s missional purposes for Israel. While God fully intended to bless Israel, God’s purpose was never simply blessing them. Deuteronomy 4:6-8 highlights the fact that God put Israel on display for the nations. The nations were supposed to see how Israel lived and the blessings that resulted. That, in turn, was to raise questions about Israel, their law, and ultimately the God who gave them that law. In this way, Israel becomes a fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that all of the nations of the earth would be blessed through their descendants (cf. Gen 12:3). The aim of the covenant was to create a community that reflected the character of the God who delivered Israel from Egypt and to invite the nations to notice and embrace that God.

Third, Deuteronomy reveals the grace of God in its concern for justice and for the vulnerable of society. All Israel, not just the judicial officials, was called to maintain justice. Note that in the law on appointing judges (16:18-20) the requirement to maintain justice falls not only on judges. The imperatives in the passage are directed to Israel as a whole (the “you” in the text, rather than the “they,” that is, the judges). Israel is called to care for those who were easily overlooked, taken advantage of, or abused. These include the widow, the orphan, the poor, and the alien (10:17-19; 24:17-18). The concern for justice included those who had fallen on hard times and could become targets to exploit for gain (15:7-11; 24:10-15). It also included God’s promise to bring justice in cases where the perpetrators could avoid detection and prosecution in the legal system (cf. 24:15; 27:14-26).

Fourth, the setting of Deuteronomy indicates that it is a book of grace. Deuteronomy is addressed to the second generation of Israelites—those whose parents died after wandering forty years in the wilderness. That first generation chose not to trust God and so did not inherit the land God promised. Still God continued to provide for them in the wilderness the whole time (29:5-6). Now God invites the new generation into a new or renewed covenant relationship with him. He invites the new generation to trust him and so choose life and blessing in the land (Deut 20:19-20).

Fifth, God offers restoration and even transformation to his people when they rebel. God anticipates a time when later generations will rebel against him and the judgments in the covenant come about. Still, God holds the door open for Israel to turn back to him and again live under God’s blessing (Deut 30). God even anticipates working a change within them. In Deuteronomy 10:16, God through Moses calls on the Israelites to circumcise their hearts, that is, to inscribe the covenant within and to remove whatever in their hearts would prevent them from following him. Then, in Deuteronomy 30:6, Moses says God will do for them what they will not or cannot do for themselves: God will circumcise their hearts. God will enable them to keep covenant and enjoy life. In that light, it is no surprise that Moses lasts words in Deuteronomy are blessing on the tribes of Israel (Deut 33).

Finally, Deuteronomy is a book of grace because it anticipates the Gospel. Within the canon, Deuteronomy points us toward the Prophet to come, Jesus Christ, who exceeds even Moses in knowing God face to face and performing signs and wonders (cf. Deut 34:10-12; John 1:21-27; 6:14; 7:40). Deuteronomy anticipates the gracious work of God, who does for his people what they cannot do for themselves. God the Father through Jesus Christ brings us into a new covenant relationship with God and through the Holy Spirit enables us to live a life of blessing and witness.

A Responsive Potter (RJS)

Last updated on: August 10, 2015 at 4:13 pm By RJS

Jeremiah was a prophet in Jerusalem at the time leading up to the Babylonian captivity. He was freed from confinement by King Nebuchadnezzar and recorded the troubling reactions of the people of Judah during this cataclysmic event. Jeremiah 18:1-12 is a troublesome passage for many interpreters. Walter Moberly in Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture refers to this passage as “the passage whereby all other depictions of divine repentance elsewhere should be understood, when one is reading the Old Testament as canonical scripture.” (p. 116)

First the text (NIV):

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. (v. 1-4)

Then the word of the Lord came to me. He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel. (v. 5-6)

After noting that the passage refers to Israel, i.e. God’s chosen people as a whole, not simply to Judah and Jerusalem where Jeremiah spoke, Moberly continues:

The imagery is also striking. For if a potter’s ability to do with the clay as he wishes (v. 4) illustrates the power of the maker over that which is made, then such imagery applied to God (v. 6) intrinsically symbolizes divine power. The imagery is not that of interpersonal relationships, which is the predominant biblical idiom for depicting God and Israel; king and subjects, master and slave, husband and wife, father and son are perhaps the most common images. … But with a limp of clay a potter has no relationship or responsibilities – it is an object to be used and shaped at will. When applied to God, therefore, the imagery of potter (yōtsēr) does not evoke mutuality, but rather unilateral power. (p. 116-117)

This imagery makes the sequel surprising. The next several verses do not depict divine power, “but rather divine contingency and responsiveness.”

If at any time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be uprooted, torn down and destroyed, and if that nation I warned repents of its evil, then I will relent and not inflict on it the disaster I had planned. And if at another time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be built up and planted, and if it does evil in my sight and does not obey me, then I will reconsider the good I had intended to do for it. (v. 7-10)

The incongruity has led some to suggest that distinct passages have been placed together by some (careless) editor. But this isn’t adequate, certainly not if we read the Old Testament as scripture. The text as received is intended to convey meaning, whether edited from sources or a unified original composition.

A fundamental presupposition within 18:7-10, therefore, is that God’s relationship with people is a genuine relationship because it is responsive. The relationship between God and people is characterized by a dynamic similar to that of relationships between people: they are necessarily mutual, and they can both grow and wither. How people respond to God matters to God, and affects how God responds to people. (p. 120-121)

Moberly notes that this isn’t an equal relationship, and the way in which God repents or changes is not the same as the way in which people are called to change. This is reflected in the words used. Humans turn/repent (shūv) while God “repents” (niḥam). The NIV reflects this using relent and reconsider for the action of God. The NRSV favored by Moberly uses “change mind” but none of these really seem to capture the meaning completely. Moberly suggests that rescind, revoke, repeal, or retract may capture the meaning more closely.

This leads (after a brief side trip to Ezekiel) to three points:

First, In this passage God, the potter, commits Himself to responsive action. “Divine power is exercised not arbitrarily, but responsibly and responsively, interacting with the moral, or immoral, actions of human beings.” (p. 123)

Second, a skilled potter, like any artist, is responsive to the material, in this case clay, which is worked.

This enables one readily to read, or perhaps rather reread, verses 7-10 as depicting an interaction between potter and clay; the initial imagery of the potter’s power can be complemented by thoughts of his responsiveness. Correspondingly, those identified as clay should think of themselves not as helpless objects dependent solely upon the decisions of the potter, but rather as able to make some difference to him. Since the potter’s decisions about what to do depends on the quality of the clay, the point becomes clear: “Let the vessel therefore make sure it is worth keeping.” (p. 123)

Third, verses 7-10 are not specific to Israel. “God’s dealings with Israel and with others, the elect and the non-elect, do not differ. The dynamics of responsiveness and contingency apply alike to all.” (p. 123)

The passage in Jeremiah continues:

“Now therefore say to the people of Judah and those living in Jerusalem, ‘This is what the Lord says: Look! I am preparing a disaster for you and devising a plan against you. So turn from your evil ways, each one of you, and reform your ways and your actions.’

But they will reply, ‘It’s no use. We will continue with our own plans; we will all follow the stubbornness of our evil hearts.’” (v. 11-12)

The NRSV makes the connection between v. 11-12 and v. 1-6 more explicit.

Now, therefore, say to the people of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: Thus says the Lord: Look, I am a potter shaping evil against you and devising a plan against you. Turn now, all of you from your evil way, and amend your ways and your doings.

The people are warned to repent, YHWH is fashioning disaster against them and will use the might of Nebuchadnezzar and Babylon to bring this about. Yet the people will refuse. They are refusing as Jeremiah speaks, time and time again.

In the next section of this chapter Moberly turns to passages where God’s repentance (niḥam) is denied as a matter of theological principle. But this discussion of Jeremiah is worth our focus today.

Does this reading of the responsive potter change your view?

Is the imagery of God as potter consistent with the image of God as responsive to human action?

The images in this post are of Nebuchadnezzar’s Ishtar Gate, built around 575 BC, a smaller but impressive portion of which has been reconstructed in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. They are but marginally related to the post – but God used Nebuchadnezzar, and he held the king of Babylon and his people responsible for their actions.

If you wish to contact me directly, you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

Moses Speaks to the Church (Phillip Camp)

Last updated on: August 9, 2015 at 5:20 am By Scot McKnight

This series on Deuteronomy is by my friend and professor at Lipscomb University’s Hazelip School of Theology, Phillip Camp. We need more not less Old Testament in the church today. Why? Read on.

Moses Speaks to the Church in Deuteronomy: Why Bother with Deuteronomy?

Deuteronomy is one of my favorite books of the Bible. Whatever look you have on your face after reading that, I am used to it. Deuteronomy and I are accustomed to taking our seat over in the corner while others hang out at the cool table with Genesis, Psalms, the Gospels, Romans and Philippians. I get it. This book of laws and curses, or so the popular perception goes, often seems boring and irrelevant. But there is more here than meets the eye. So I’ve made it something of a mission to get people to at least look over Deuteronomy’s way and see that a closer look reveals a book that has a lot to say today’s Christian. Let me suggest a few ways that this is the case.

First, Deuteronomy shows what it means to be in a faithful relationship with God, and invites us into such a relationship. It is not simply a matter of keeping a bunch of rules, despite the caricatured view of the Law many of us have had. It teaches us about living in loyal trusting relationship with God so that we may enjoy his presence and blessings and so that we may fulfill his purposes. It calls us away from our idols and toward the God who wants life—true life—for his people (Deut 6:2; 30:15, 19-20; 32:47).

Second, Deuteronomy highlights the grace of God for his people and for all people. I will explore this point further in a later post. Suffice it for now to say that Deuteronomy anticipates the gospel, grace permeates this book. God blesses and cares for his people though they (we!) have not earned it and do not deserve it (see Deut 9-10). He does for them what they cannot do for themselves.

Third, Deuteronomy teaches a great deal about the nature of God. In addition God’s grace, Deuteronomy reveals God’s love, justice, righteousness, and faithfulness. Furthermore, it calls Israel to imitate the character of God. As God loves and cares for the alien, so should God’s people (Deut 10:17-19). As God provided rest for his people, so his people should provide rest for others. As God provides justice, so the whole community is called to ensure justice (Deut 24:17-18)

Fourth, Deuteronomy shows the nature of community life for God’s people. Love of God leads to love of neighbor, and Deuteronomy gives examples of what that looks like in Israel’s context. While the particular manifestations may differ in our culture, an ethical impulse is there that continues to speak into our situation. One’s eyes and actions are turned from self toward the wellbeing of others. Priorities are realigned from what we typically experience. God is the priority of the community, and all else flows from that.

Fifth, Deuteronomy reveals the missional purpose of the people of God, their role in his plan. God does not choose Israel as his holy people and treasured possession for their sake alone. They receive life and blessing from God, to be sure. However, their election also serves to bear witness to the world around them about this God of blessing and life. The nations should see something distinctive in God’s people as they live out God’s torah (instruction), which in turn leads to questions about this wisdom and then points ultimately toward their God (see 4:6-8).

Sixth, Deuteronomy teaches us a great deal about the nature and spirit of worship. While the particulars of our worship will differ, Deuteronomy gives us insight into what should characterize our community worship. God is placed squarely at the center of worship, and it is God who invites the community and sets the terms for the community to come into the divine presence. It shows worship that is driven by the story of God with God’s people. It also reveals the joyful and inclusive nature of worship. (See Deut 16:13-15)

Seventh, Deuteronomy has a lot to say about keeping the faith alive in the community and passing it on to the next generation. I will discuss this more in later post.

Eighth, Deuteronomy is one of the most influential books on the rest of the Bible. The basic theologies of (at the least) Joshua, Judges, 1-2 Samuel, 1-2 Kings, and Jeremiah are rooted in Deuteronomy, and it is one of the three most cited Old Testament books in the New Testament. Note also, that when Jesus battles Satan in the wilderness temptations, all Jesus’ responses come from Deuteronomy! (Matt 4:1-11; Luke 4:1-13; cf. Deut 8:3; 6:13, 16).

Ninth, Deuteronomy is Christian Scripture. According to Paul, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Tim 3:16-17). If the edges of the pages of Deuteronomy still have the gold gilding in your Bible, it’s time to dig into this part of God’s word.

Tenth, Deuteronomy poses the choices that every generation of God’s people must face: Will you trust God and move forward in faith or not? Deuteronomy presents the words of Moses to a new generation of Israelites on the border of the promise land as they anticipate inheriting the promises of God. Their parents feared and so failed to trust God, and they did not inherit the promises. Now, 40 years later, the new generation must choose whether or not they will trust God and be faithful to their covenant with him that they may inherit the promises. Likewise, each subsequent generation of God’s people face this choice as they (we) stand on the border, anticipating receiving promises of God and called into his mission. Moses encourages them and us to choose blessing and life.

I Dare You to Change! (RJS)

Last updated on: August 6, 2015 at 6:44 am By RJS

Change is hard. Changing a position on any significant issue involves a disruption of social networks. This disruption can be painful. Today I would like to highlight two projects connected to the BioLogos Evolution and Christian Faith program that deal with the issues surrounding change.

Justin Topp, involved with Craig Story in the project Moving Pastors Toward Scientific Literacy, had an interesting post on the BioLogos blog last week: Creation and Evolution “Research Programs” (And Why It’s So Hard to Change Perspectives). In this post he is focused on analyzing the approaches that different groups take to the questions of evolution and Christian faith and the way these approaches control perspective. To lend context to the discussion he tells some of his story moving from a young earth creationist view to an evolutionary creation approach. The post is well worth reading.

Justin includes a table outlining what he sees as the three core positions or “research programs” at play in the discussion of evolution and creation.

To provide a better context to the reader, I have taken the liberty of constructing what I see are the three main research programs that are most relevant to the creation-evolution discussion for Evangelicals (see table). As a reminder, the “core hypothesis” is a thesis that is unchangeable and to which the researcher commits at all costs. Everything else within the research program is designed to connect (or protect) the core hypothesis to data that supports (or refutes) the central theory.

These are broad categories and there are subdivisions within these groups, especially within the evolutionary creation program, but the overall scheme seems accurate. There is substantial agreement on what might seem to be the core issues (Jesus Christ and the nature of God), and even on the authority of scripture, although the hermeneutical approach differs in the three programs. In fact, the approach to an understanding of the Bible and the way it should be interpreted defines the core position of both the young earth and old earth creationist programs. In contrast, the evolutionary creation program is driven less by a specific approach to biblical interpretation and more by a desire (need) to accommodate what are seen as the well supported conclusions of science into a Christian world view. This leads to the frequent charge that those of us who support evolutionary creation are letting science take the drivers seat.

Justin describes a little of his journey from young earth creation to evolutionary creation in his post. My story is different. Although I was raised in a Christian family and in the church I was never a convinced young earth creationist or even a convinced old earth creationist. Our church did not take an official position and the pastor in subtle ways discouraged the young earth position. Still, the underlying approach to scripture was enough to raise issues in my mind. After struggling with the apparent conflicts in college and graduate school I settled into a bracketed approach – science was my vocation and avocation (I am a professor and active in research). Christianity defined my life, but was more-or-less separated from most of my day-to-day life because it seemed impossible to bring the two together. Today I have a much healthier evolutionary creation approach that brings everything together in a much more coherent fashion. My reading and writing, here and elsewhere, is directed toward exploring the issues and figuring out how all this can fit together.

But there are social costs, both in my profession and in the church.

Resistance to Change. Much of what we believe about the interaction between science and Christian faith is driven by social context and ties. This can be driven by positive acceptance and belonging or by negative rhetoric shaping the group, or both. Despite the fundamental agreements, the relationship between those who hold the three positions described above is often less than harmonious. Those who accept the mainstream scientific conclusions often view young earth creationists as ignorant, part of the problem, and a hindrance to faith. Young earth creationists in turn view those who accept evolutionary creation as dangerous, false prophets, and wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Jonathan Hill, a sociology professor at Calvin College, received funding for his project Support for the National Longitudinal Study of Religion and Human Origins. Jonathan has a new book Emerging Adulthood and Faith derived from his survey research on the faith of young adults. The final chapter of this short book, Blinding Them with Science, focuses on the change (or lack of change) young adults evidence toward questions of evolution and human origins as they move from childhood to adulthood. I may post on more of Jonathan’s conclusions in the future, but for today’s post I want to look only at his conclusions about change.

Most of us don’t make entirely rational data-driven choices about beliefs – whether Christian faith, evolution, global warming, or the need for vaccination. From Jonathan’s book:

When people change their beliefs about human origins, it usually will be found alongside other social changes: Friendship networks, relationships with family members, and participation in certain religious communities are altered as well. It is much more plausible that these social changes are actually the driving force in changing beliefs about the relationship between science and religion. In other words, framing the significant change about beliefs regarding human origins as primarily an intellectual puzzle which individuals deal with in isolation (which is true of both the models that began this chapter) is not the best way to understand the problem. While that model may be true for a select few people who are seriously engaged in the intellectual debates about science and religion, for the vast majority of young people, this is simply not how they arrive at their beliefs.

… People come to accept or reject evolution not as a result of pouring over the details and evidence, but as a symbolic gesture to indicate to others where they belong in the socio-political landscape. This requires understanding that religious beliefs, and beliefs about other contentious public issues, are intertwined with identity and social relationships. Formal science education, for most young people, is unlikely to change this. (p. 56-57)

One take away message from this is that church is incredibly important. It is not simply a place for worship, but a community that shapes people. The structure, priorities, and social environment of a church shapes the way disciples of Christ are formed. This should receive more attention than it often does. More to the point of this post though, any change in the evangelical community on the questions of science and faith will not be driven by logical argument and data alone. It will only come from trust and community.

If you disagree with my evolutionary creation point of view, take comfort in this: if your friendship, family, and fellowship networks are grounded in a more restrictive position, the science that I and my colleagues teach is not likely to have much impact.

Do Justin’s classifications make sense? What might you change?

What drives a change in views on evolution or any other issue? What led you to change your position?

How should the church respond?

The image at the top of the post was taken in Thomas Kirche in Leipzig, where Johann Sebastian Bach was music director and is now buried.

If you wish to contact me directly, you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

Harper Lee’s Original Novel (or was it?)

Last updated on: August 5, 2015 at 3:38 pm By Scot McKnight

My response to Harper Lee’s novel, Go Set a Watchman. Spoiler alert: you may learn things here you’d rather not know if you plan to read the novel. As with her previous novel, there’s plenty of n-words at work in the narrative. True to its day, illustrating over and over the systemic evil.

I’m no expert on Harper Lee, and even less an expert on fiction. But I give today some reflections on this penetrating novel. It deeply disturbed me. I found the ending far more realistic and ambivalent than I wanted. The book tells the story of racism and the desire by Southern whites to protect their segregationism to which they were blind.

There’s more than a scuffle about the publication of this novel. I’ve been enough of a fan of Harper Lee that I would read anything she’s written, even if it doesn’t live up to her classic novel. What could? I lean toward those who think it should have been published, but there’s a debate here that will be decided by whether you read it or not. I chose the group that reads it. I’m glad I did. I’m glad in part because it opens a window on the development of Lee’s craft and mind.

Let us propose that Harper Lee’s two novels, To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman, were meant to be read in succession — the former first. What then? Before we answer that question, let us counter-propose that the story we’ve been told is accurate: that Harper Lee originally wrote a novel, her editor (Tay Hohoff) asked for lots of revisions, Lee went to work to edit and edit … but finally Hohoff had her way with Lee and Lee started all over with a novel that took on the same basic subject – racism in the South — and that became To Kill a Mockingbird. Go Set a Watchman was the best she could do with the threads she originally created but she junked that novel once Mockingbird took its shape. Let us propose, also, either account of the two novels when it comes to character portrayal in the two novels.

Either way, and the second scenario is most likely the case, Atticus Finch moves from a man of moral and legal principled behavior to a compromised Southern racist who thought Brown v. Board of Education might launch radical equality at the poll booth. Atticus, as he tells his own story in Go Set a Watchman, was a “Jeffersonian Democrat,” which gave voting rights to those who were deemed (indeed) most likely to know what they were doing. Or in a particularly intense scene late in the book, Atticus presses this question on his justice-loving daughter, Jean Louise:

“‘What would happen if all the Negroes in the South were suddenly given full civil rights?… Would you want your state governments run by people who don’t know how to run them?”

Scout, or Jean Louise Finch, was a child observer and early activist for justice for all, including Southern blacks, in To Kill a Mockingbird, becomes the protagonist for racial equality and justice in Go Set a Watchman and a fierce, if at times slightly overcooked, critic of her father and all things Maycomb. She in some ways replaces Atticus for racial equality and justice. But when her father pressed his question on her, Jean Louise came back with ferocity and bitter satire — in the kinds of racist terms so typical of the South at the time of Lee’s writing:

You neglected [she tells Atticus] to tell me that we were naturally better than the Negroes, bless their kinky heads, that they were able to go so far but only so far only … When you talked of justice you forgot to say that justice is something that has nothing to do with people — … You sowed the seeds in me, Atticus, and now it’s coming home to you —

And speaking of God, why didn’t you make it very plain to me that God made the races and put the black folks in Africa with the intention of keeping them there so the missionaries could go tell them that Jesus loved ’em but for ’em to stay in Africa?

You deny that they’re human. [He asks how so?] You deny them hope…. You are telling them that Jesus loves them, but not much.

Her boyfriend from Maycomb County, Hank, was alongside Atticus Finch in the citizens’ council that was doing its best to preserve segregation, and after Jean Louise watched the meeting — reminding us of her watching the entire opposite narrative in Mockingbird — she morally punched out his lights in these words, after he asks her “What was he to do?”

Do? I expect you to keep your gold-plated ass out of citizens’ councils! I don’t give a damn if Atticus is sitting across from you, if the King of England’s on your right and the Lord Jehovah’s on your left — I expect you t be a man, that’s all!

She asks him how he can live with himself.

[He:] It’s comparatively easy. Sometimes I just don’t vote my convictions, that’s all.

Suddenly she heard someone behind her.

A dry, pleasant voice behind her said, “I don’t know why you can’t. Hypocrites have just as much right live in this world as anybody.”

These are the best scenes in the whole book — forcing racism to the front, forcing Jean Louise into the front of defending justice, but by the end of the novel the fierceness of Jean Louise seems to be softening into a kind of empathic accommodationism to the ways of the South. One is left hoping she might take up residence as an advocate against Jeffersonian Democracy in Maycomb. We just don’t know where she might land.

Whether the two stories are to be read consecutively or simply in the developmental narrative of Harper Lee’s own mind, the story of Atticus moving from an advocate of justice against racism to a compromiser in order to preserve Southern ordered living is as human a story as one can find. Virtuous characters do not always live up to their virtues. Some fade into compromise, and Atticus does in this novel due to his desire to preserve Southern conclaves — call it apartheid — and because he didn’t think Southern blacks were morally or culturally or civilly prepared to assume civic duties as were the whites. One thinks of Israel’s first king, Saul, or its second king, David, or any number of biblical characters along with countless others in American history who have lost their virtue. One also thinks Atticus belongs in the Roman system of elitism while his daughter, known to us all as Scout, was Athenian and desirous of equality.

Were it not that Atticus Finch has in the meantime become a paradigm of advocacy for racial justice by means of legal justice the story would be gripping. Or unnerving and frustrating and incomplete.

Go Set a Watchman has its moments — from its Mark Twain-like stories of Jem and Scout in the early portions to it’s powerful scene when Jean Louise observes at the council meeting the racist hypocrisy of her father, her boyfriend Hank, and many other white leaders in Maycomb plotting how to preserve racist systemic structures, and on to the powerful indictment of Jean Louise of her father in a late chapter vendetta — but the plot doesn’t run the emotions. What runs the emotions best are the scenes she sketches, the dialogues and episodes. The plot is little more than now a highbrow New Yorker Jean Louise returning to lowbrow, bumpkin Maycomb twenty years after the famous trial of To Kill a Mockingbird to discover ripening racisms, her shock at the discovery, and her impassioned decision to abandon family and town to simmering, evil racism. As mentioned already, the novel ends with the ambiguous account of a physical double-swat on the chops of Jean Louise by, and a conversation of Scout with, her uncle, Dr Finch, Maycomb’s “most learned licensed eccentric,” and his attempt to persuade her to stay in Maycomb to make a difference. There is not that much ambiguity, perhaps, as it appears to me she will stay and perhaps even accommodate herself to Southern racism. That ending collapsed under the weight of the hope it created — but perhaps that, too, was her point. Maybe the narrative needed more editing and sharpening …

There is a story that after writing Watchman and then converting it in a thorough rewriting into the classic Mockingbird that Harper Lee wrote a second novel — one to fill the gap between Watchman and Mockingbird — that the novel was stolen from her apartment, and that as is well known she never wrote another novel. This story has been told in Charles Shields, Mockingbird. I have no reason to doubt the story just as I have no reason to think it was meant to bridge the gap between Mockingbird and Watchman. We don’t know. I suspect rather that the classic novel was a full blown supersessionism of the earlier attempt and she left it behind her. But whether or not the two are to be read in succession or not, the development in Harper Lee’s mind of the race postures of Atticus is more than a little credible as an account of a sad human story. One worth telling — not uplifting but perhaps ultimately even more a kick in the shins about racism’s evil systemics.

God is not the Devil (by Joe James)

Last updated on: August 5, 2015 at 6:40 am By Scot McKnight

This post is from Joe James, at Southside Church of Christ in Rogers ARK

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. –Mother Teresa

The root of all division is fear. – Thomas Merton

God is not the devil. This seems like an obvious enough claim. Let me tell you why I am saying it. When I take a stroll through our world news, I see division everywhere. I see racial division, political division, national division, economic division, religious division, gender division, cultural division, generational division… division, division, division. We are divided.

And as far as I can tell from reading my Social Media newsfeeds, it appears to me that most Christians seem to think that the role of God in all of that is to pick a side. But it seems to me there is a fundamental theological problem with that. God doesn’t pick sides – the devil does. And I think the times we are in call us to a sense of urgency about knowing which is which. God is not the devil.
Diabolos

So the word “devil” is one of the many words Scripture uses to name the force of evil that exists in our world. Scripture is careful about which “name” it gives evil depending upon what Scripture is trying to say about evil. For example, Satan means accuser. So any time Scripture wants to talk about evil as a wholesale condemnation of humanity, and all that goes with it – guilt, shame, despair – it reaches for the word “Satan.”

There are other words too. In his book, “The Subversion of Christianity,” Jacques Ellul names 6 evils:

1. Mammon
2. The Prince of this World
3. The Prince of Lies
4. Satan
5. the devil
6. Death

So this word “devil” – what does it mean? If Ellul is right, the Greek is Diabolos and it means divider. That is what the devil does. He divides. All of the division we see in the world is, theologically speaking, the work of the devil. And a quick stroll through my Twitter feed tells me that Christians are confused. We seem to be using God to deepen the divisions that exist in our world, having Him choose sides (conveniently it is always “our” side). This concerns me.

Pharisee. Sectarian.

In the First Century world, the dominant “way” of being Jewish was the way of the Pharisee. Pharisees get a bad reputation in contemporary Christianity. We sort of paint with broad strokes and say, “They were legalists.” Yes and no. The main reason Jesus is in conflict with the Pharisees is not necessarily that they are legalistic or rigid in their interpretation of the law. I think it is more that they use Torah to divide people rather than using it to transform God’s people into a “light to the nations.”

There is a helpful little religious word for that – Sectarian.

Sectarianism is simply the use of faith, religion, or God in a way that divides people rather than reconciling them. And here is what we need to know about this, something we learn from Jesus – Sectarianism makes God furious.

And whenever we use our faith in Jesus, or religious language, or “God-talk” in a way that creates Us-verses-Them categories, we are not embodying the work of Jesus. We might actually be doing something much worse. We might be ministers of Diabolos. We might be Sectarians.

At-one-ment

I cannot help but think that all of our confusion is rooted in a weak understanding of what God has done for us on the cross.

If you were to ask your friends the question, “What did Jesus do for us on the cross?” I suspect you will get a reply like this, “Jesus died for my sins so that I can go to heaven when I die.” To be clear, the cross certainly offers us forgiveness of sins. The cross definitely offers reconciliation between us and our Creator in a way that offers hope.

When we seek to ground this understanding of the cross in Scripture, we reach for texts like this one: “God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood – to be received by faith. He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished – he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus.” (Romans 3:25-26).

There you have it. Atonement means Jesus died on the cross as a sacrifice for our sins so that we can stand justified with all those who have faith in him. Yes. That is, of course, true.

But what happens when that is all? What happens when you neglect other important texts (including some big ones in the same chapter of Romans!) that seem to indicate even more than this is accomplished on the cross?

My hunch is that if this is all we can say about the cross, that it leaves us seeing the world through the lens of “faithful and wicked” which is just a short step from “Us-verses-Them.” And I want to argue that a full biblical picture of what Jesus accomplished for us on the cross challenges that worldview head on.

Why do we reach for the Romans 3:25-26 text and not Ephesians 2:11-22? Ephesians 2:11-22 claims that on the cross Jesus destroyed the dividing walls of hostility that exist between ethnic groups. Are we listening carefully? The devil’s job is to divide. Jesus’ job involved bringing together again all that the devil has divided.

Or what about Colossians 1:15-20? In this poem of Saint Paul’s, he claims that Jesus is “reconciling all things to himself, whether things on earth, or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” Are we listening carefully? The devil’s work is to divide. Jesus’ work involves reconciling “all things” to himself.

And what about 2 Corinthians 5:16-21? In this text, Saint Paul says that Jesus’ own work on cross was a model for us who are “ministers of reconciliation, not counting humanity’s sins against them.”

You see, when we reach for texts like this when we think about “what Jesus did for us on the cross…” we come to understand that the work of Jesus, and therefore the work of Christians, is to reconcile, not to separate and divide. It involves a future hope, but it is more than only future hope.

Sacraments

Think about the story of salvation that is told in our sacraments.

Baptism tells a story of salvation from slavery. It is a story of redemption. It is the work of God on earth. Baptism is about heaven and earth coming together. And baptism is about the creation of a new people. So when Saint Paul reflects on Baptism he says, “… for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

Communion tells the story of fellowship. The setting is a dinner table. At the famous “last supper” scene in the gospels, Jesus reclines at the table with an unlikely crew. James and John were Zealots, which meant they would sooner kill Matthew (a Jewish tax-collector employed by pagan Rome) than to eat with him. Except that… except that Jesus was with them. Jesus brought them together. He washed them. He repurposed their lives for this new kingdom He was ushering in. A kingdom where tax-collectors and Zealots eat together and love one another.

Ministry is the place where someone(s) intentionally make themselves last and offer life to others. Ministry is about loving your neighbor by actively working for their good. And the human impulse is to ask, “tell me who my neighbor is, so that I can serve them.” And Jesus spends an entire public career trying to make it painfully clear that our neighbor is everyone… yes… everyone. Even our enemies.

You see, our Scriptural story as Christians is one of unity and peace and love and reconciliation. The devil’s story is one of division and violence and hate and estrangement. And the basic practices of the Christian faith are about bringing things together: heaven and earth, Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, zealot and tax-collector, saint and sinner, white and black, democrat and republican.

So here is a reminder to Christians everywhere. We believe that Jesus is the perfect representation of the living God; that Jesus is reconciling all things to himself. And we believe he has called us to participate in that mission and work. So when we are tempted to use God to divide or estrange, let us remember… God is not the devil.

We Are (Christian) Naturalists (RJS)

Last updated on: August 4, 2015 at 1:46 am By RJS

Part III of Gary N. Fugle’s new book Laying Down Arms to Heal the Creation-Evolution Divide looks at the definition of science, the major scientific issues with creationism and intelligent design, and concludes with a discussion of how we might understand God at work in his creation.

In the first chapter of this section, The Face of Science, Fugle provides a definition of science and an explanation of the need for methodological naturalism.

[N]atural science exclusively studies the properties of matter and energy in the natural world, and its hypotheses, predictions, tests, and conclusions are based on empirical evidence pertaining to these properties. … The philosophical conviction that the world operates through discoverable properties is called “naturalism.” Since the methods of natural science focus exclusively on these features, this approach to learning and knowledge is called “methodological naturalism.” …

Science, as a process, must also proceed with the assumption that God or other agents do not intervene because that would be an alteration in the fundamental regularity in the fundamental regularity in natural properties upon which the discipline depends. (pp. 69-70)

Fugle uses the example of a ball rolling down a hill as an example. This will be governed by the normal laws of mechanics. If we know all the parameters; the surface, the friction, the slope, the roughness, the mass, and so forth, then the trajectory of the ball can be described with complete accuracy. We step outside the realm of science if we assert an unseen supernatural agent pushing it up the hill or giving it a kick to the right.

This doesn’t mean that there is no God, or that scientists must reject the existence of God. Science does not require philosophical naturalism – the conviction that the natural world is all that exists. But the practice of science is explicitly a quest to understand the regular discoverable properties through which the world operates. As a Christian Fugle certainly sees God behind these properties and laws. He does not eliminate the possibility of miracles where God acts outside of the normal processes of the world, but miracles have a purpose. They are not arbitrary acts. In general we can reasonably expect God to work within the normal processes and properties of the world.

Christians often complain that this definition of science – restricted to the investigation of the discoverable properties of nature – is an inadequate approach because it rejects the possibility of the supernatural. Some vocal atheists go so far as to say that the success of science based on methodological naturalism eliminates the possibility of God. This isn’t so and many scientists are religious or spiritual.

While God is excluded from the methods of the discipline, this does not mean there has been a wholesale rejection of spiritual or religious realities. Strong defense of what science is does not constitute any position whatsoever about the existence, importance, or relevance of God and metaphysical truths. To exclude God from the methods of science does not exclude God from life. Christian believers must be careful to differentiate these two things. (p. 71)

Fugle is fully aware, as am I, that there is a “fabric of disbelief” (Kenneth Miller’s term) that runs through the academic establishment. This can result in an environment that ranges from subtle to open hostility toward religious belief, particularly Christian belief. It is important for us as Christians to be able to separate this culture from the science itself. (And it would help if more scientists were also aware of the boundary between scientific and metaphysical statements.)

It is also important to realize that the methodological naturalism of science does not mean that scientific and religious ways of knowing are separable and non-overlapping. Nor does it mean that religion must be subsumed in the more rigorous scientific way of knowing. Rather Fugle gives the illustration to the right (imitating Fig. 7.1, p. 85). The separation of science and religion into separate compartments (a) is unsatisfactory. This isn’t a Christian perspective. Rather as in (b) “Science studies the natural world, but this is a subset of the entire realm over which God has involvement and which religion (or theology) studies. This is a Christian view.” God is sovereign over both the natural world and the spiritual realm.

Christians believe that the ongoing mechanisms of the natural world, upon which science depends, are themselves dependent on God. In addition, believers expect that an omnipresent God interacts with these processes to guide the course of events. With this inherent approach to life, Christians necessarily look to incorporate the findings of science into one coherent view that includes God, not to compartmentalize scientific information and spiritual understandings into separate spheres of knowledge. (p. 84)

This background leads us into two Christian approaches to science that Fugle (and I) find unsatisfactory: Creation Science and Intelligent Design. There are a number of issues to discuss here, but the most important is that neither approach really practices science as Fugle has defined it. Both start with an appreciation for science and the power of science, but both stray from an effective view of science.

Creation science starts with a particular biblical interpretation of creation and works to fit scientific observations into this framework. The problem is that it simply does not work. The scientific data is not consistent with this particular interpretation of the Bible. The arguments put forth to force the young earth time frame on science simply don’t hold up to scrutiny. There are many reasons why this is so. Joel Duff at Naturalis Historia (another Christian biology professor) digs into many of the issues. I have promised a post to look at some of these in the near future. It seems far more reasonable that it is our interpretation of scripture that is in error than that all of this scientific information is being interpreted incorrectly by such a large community of scientists – many of whom are Christians. This isn’t flipping the picture to put God in the small blue ball with science as sovereign over all. Rather it is an acknowledgment of the nature of biblical revelation through the written word and the nature of the world as God’s creation.

Key point – to the scientist it isn’t a matter of “believing in evolution.” This isn’t (for most of us) a metaphysical framework. And evolution, like gravity and quantum mechanics, isn’t “only a theory” to be contrasted with proven ideas. A theory is the highest level in science “A theory in science is a well-supported collection of ideas and explanations; its concepts have been tested by numerous observations.” (p. 91)

A distinctive character of the scientific process is that it promotes skepticism and purposely avoids the notion that the final word has been spoken on any subject, Ideas are always subject to new testing, analyzed from new angles, and open to modification. Currently supported and accepted explanations are viewed as our best conceptualization for the present. If science is to remain dynamic and forward-moving, there must be future investigations ans anticipation of new findings. Scientists like to say an idea is “well supported” rather than “proven.” (p. 91)

To paraphrase Fugle (p. 100), we embrace evolution because it is extremely well supported by empirical evidence and is a comprehensive and useful scientific concept. The framework of evolutionary biology makes sense of a large swath of data. The pieces fall into place. This doesn’t mean everything is now known (far from it!), but it does provide coherence to a broad range of empirical data.

Intelligent Design is driven by a desire to counter the naturalist materialist influences in our culture. This is a fine goal, but Fugle argues that the approach is driving conflict and disinformation rather than bringing light to the situation. All Christians belief that the world is intelligently designed by God. But we don’t all agree that evidence for God (or any designer) should be expected through scientific investigation. It is fundamentally (protestations notwithstanding) a God of the gaps approach. There are intrinsic gaps in the power of natural explanation that only God can fill. Even the “inference to the best explanation” argued by Stephen Meyer is a gap filling approach because it relies on vacancies in current understanding to make a designer the best explanation.

Why are we looking for a scientifically detectable God?

The Bible proclaims that God is evident in the natural world. Psalm 19:1 announces. “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Romans 1:20 asserts, “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made …” These truths were apparent, long before scientific inquiry, to those who had the faith to perceive them. The same truths are evident today in the awe, wonder, and beauty of nature and it is through these senses that Christians understand God in nature. We do not need scientific studies to expose God in the natural world and I believe Christians are looking in the wrong place when they anticipate that empirical research will indisputably reveal him. The greatest irony is that as some Christian scientists search for an elusive God found only where science knowledge is lacking, we point people away from a more straightforward perception that he has been apparent all along. (p. 112)

Science is not a key path for revealing or proving God. Science is a study of the normal processes in God’s creation (whether the scientist acknowledges God or not).

Fugle concludes Part III with a discussion of divine action, miracles, and the harmony of causes in the “natural” world. It is not an either-or proposition. Natural explanations do not eliminate God from the picture. In many ways this is a personal discussion of the ways in which he has found harmony between the Christian faith in God and the discipline of scientific inquiry. A chapter well worth reading.

Does Fugle’s definition of science make sense?

How might you modify this definition? Why?

How should we view the relationship between science and Christian faith?

If you wish to contact me directly, you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

The Problem(s) with the “Institutional” Church

Last updated on: August 3, 2015 at 2:42 am By Scot McKnight

No matter how many define it or (don’t define it) and no matter how many are using the expression, lots gets packaged into a tight and hot bundle when someone critiques the “institutional” church. Here’s “Daniel”:

Daniel: I see the institution, the hierarchy, the bureaucracy as crippling the body of Christ. I see it as creating this false dichotomy: If you really want to be influential and important and do something for Jesus, you have to go to seminary, you’ve got to get your degree, you’ve got to get ordained, and then you’ve got to get a microphone, and then you can start making a “difference” in the world. But that has nothing to do with what Jesus came here to start. Nothing.

This is from Josh Packard and Ashleigh Hope’s book about The Dones — the formerly active and now no longer in attendance at church, a book called Church Refugees (p. 53).

How do you respond to that complaint by “Daniel”?

Packard and Hope offer a fair and important warning-observation, after admitting that no organization exists without structure, without some kind of institutionalization … yet…:

Sociologically, we know from over a century of studying these kinds of organizations that at some point, the bureaucracy takes over, and much activity in the organization ends up being geared toward its survival (54).

They weren’t frustrated by the existence of structure; they were frustrated when they felt the structure actively prevented them from doing the work they felt called to do. They were frustrated when they found themselves constantly and solely working to keep the organization going.

Heavily centralized and hierarchical organizations tend to concentrate power and gradually compel all activity inward, stifling innovation, creativity, and opposing ideas (56).

One reason The Dones are done is because they wanted to do the work of the church but found too much or only bureaucracy. They are walking away, not from the work of the church, but church work! Notice the tension in this story about “Katie”:

[Katie] told me about her dream to start an art-therapy group in this inner-city neighborhood where she hves and where her former congregation is located…. At first, she was hoping for some support from her congregation for supplies and materials, but eventually asked simply for space to meet. She showed me emails in which the church leaders expressed concern that her plan didn’t include anything about getting the kids to become regular church members or to accept Jesus into their lives. Katie replied that a large number of the kids in the neighborhood were Muslim and that she didn’t feel comfortable playing the role of evangelizer…. “It just got to the point that it was so painfully obvious to me that the art therapy was making more of a real impact in the world, and was feeding me more spiritually as a group of people committed to relationships than my home congregation had ever done.” (58-59)

Packard and Hope continue with this telling observation:

Katie’s story reveals the tension between a church worried about pouring resources into something that doesn’t have an identifiable return on investment and a congregant who simply wants to act, to be “on the giving side,” as Katie put it. There was nothing in Katie’s plan that was geared to lead directly to more bodies in the pews or dollars in the collection plate (59).

What do you think? Should they have supported her so-called “giving” ministry or not? Notice the language of Packard and Hope: “identifiable return” vs. “act” and “giving side” and “more bodies in the pews or dollars.” This kind of language prejudices the whole discussion: the issue here is what is a church and what is church ministry and what does a church do with its resources. Is the church an NGO? Does a church get to decide how its resources are used in line with its mission and theology? Or..?

We need to move on … many of The Dones experience the church as a corporation with the pastor as at least 51% of power as the CEO. Here is how they put it:

The problem, as they saw it, was that there was no true participation in their churches. People were either doing the things that the person or people in charge wanted done, or they weren’t allowed to do much of anything. There was no freedom to truly shape their own community (61).

So I ask how central the following set of observations is to The Dones?

All of these data have convinced me that there is a truly sizable subset of congregants, and the recently dechurched, who desire to be active participants in a community of believers but aren’t willing to be the mouthpiece of someone else’s vision. They want to be able to make meaningful decisions and participate as equals in their communities. Too often, they say, church staff and pastors are willing to empower lay leaders, paid staff, and volunteers to do meaningless, mundane, and unfulfilling work while the senior pastor retains all of the authority and ability to make creative, meaningful decisions on behalf of the congregation (62).

For most of The Dones their passions for community and ministry and service continue in (1) civic and political engagement, (2) small groups or house churches, or (3) informal but spiritually meaningful gatherings (68-76).

The Wisdom of This World (RJS)

Last updated on: July 30, 2015 at 5:14 am By RJS

I’ve been traveling the last several weeks – spending some time in Europe working (with a little vacationing thrown into the mix). Last weekend I visited Lutherstadt Wittenberg, A small town in eastern Germany where Martin Luther spent most of his adult life, preached, raised his family, and … oh yeah … composed the 95 theses. The wooden door is long gone, but Luther’s theses are engraved on bronze doors to All Saints Church also known as the Castle Church or Schloßkirche. Both Martin Luther and Philip Melanchthon are buried in the church. The church is undergoing major renovation leading up to the 500th anniversary of Luther’s 95 theses in 2017, but I was lucky enough to get inside briefly. The pictures are from top to bottom: the Schloßkirche, the Stadtkirche St. Marien, and the Corpus Christi Chapel next to St. Marien’s.

As a result of these travels, today’s post is a slightly edited repost from several years back on a topic worth another look.

The Wisdom of This World. Oftentimes when discussing issues of science and faith, or other issues that challenge the conventional thinking of the Christian faith, someone will up and quote or paraphrase Paul from his letters to the Corinthians.

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written: “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.” Where is the wise person? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the philosopher of this age? (1 Cor. 1:18-20)

Do not deceive yourselves. If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age, you should become “fools” so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight. As it is written: “He catches the wise in their craftiness”; and again, “The Lord knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” (1 Cor. 3:18-20)

The implication when this is brought into the conversation is, implicitly or explicitly, that we should forsake the wisdom of this world – the questions raised by philosophy, psychology, science, archaeology – and have faith in the wisdom of God and in his Holy Word, the “plain” reading of scripture. To accept an old earth and evolution or to question the historicity of Adam, Noah, Babel, Job, or Jonah is to succumb to the wisdom of the world, forsaking the wisdom of God (it is usually fine to turn the Song of Songs into an allegory though). To question the reality of Hell, eternal conscious torment, or the exclusivity of salvation is to succumb to the wisdom of this world.

In the 1 Cor. 23 Paul notes that Christ crucified is “a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks” (1. Cor. 1:23). I have at times heard people claim that this view of Christ crucified as “foolishness” explains the resistance to so-called “biblical” views of creation be they young earth, old earth progressive creation, or intelligent design.

Does this stumbling block have anything to do with our approach to science?

Without discussing the specifics of the age of the earth, evolution, the historicity of Adam or the concept of Hell, I would like to look at this more closely today and pose a more fundamental question as well.

What is the wisdom of the world?

By the way – there is a link to an intriguing new “scientific” study of greed and entitlement below. One that merely confirms, perhaps, the wisdom of God.

God has made foolish the wisdom of the world. But I don’t think this has anything at all to do with the age of the earth, the historicity of Adam, or many of the questions raised by the scientific study of God’s creation. The wisdom of the world is far more down to earth … and far, far dirtier.

The wisdom of this world involves jealousy, quarreling, and following human leaders. In the passages quoted above Paul is writing to a church in Corinth troubled by conflict, human pride, and divisiveness.

Brothers and sisters, I could not address you as people who live by the Spirit but as people who are still worldly—mere infants in Christ. I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans? For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not mere human beings? (1 Cor. 3:1-4)

The wisdom of this world involves greed, power, ambition, and self-interest. This “wisdom” is insidious and comes up repeatedly in the pages of the NT, in the sayings of Jesus as recorded in the gospels and in the letters of the apostles.

Along this line there was an interesting article Higher social class predicts increased unethical behavior published in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. The authors performed seven different studies looking at the relationship between social status and unethical behavior.

Although greed may indeed be a motivation all people have felt at points in their lives, we argue that greed motives are not equally prevalent across all social strata. As our findings suggest, the pursuit of self-interest is a more fundamental motive among society’s elite, and the increased want associated with greater wealth and status can promote wrongdoing. Unethical behavior in the service of self-interest that enhances the individual’s wealth and rank may be a self-perpetuating dynamic that further exacerbates economic disparities in society, a fruitful topic for the future study of social class. (p. 4 of the article)

It isn’t that the poor are inherently more ethical, but that status conveys a sense of entitlement. The Science report notes: “When participants were manipulated into thinking of themselves as belonging to a higher class than they did, the poorer ones, too, began to behave unethically.” Perhaps this study simply brings to light what Jesus taught.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (Mt 19:23-24)

The wisdom of God overturns the wisdom of the world in pursuit of self-interest, be it money, power, status, or adulation. In the Kingdom of God self-interest and entitlement take a back seat to the love of God and love of neighbor.

The wisdom of this world involves failure to worship God and the world through its wisdom does not know God. At times the science and faith discussion does become mired in the wisdom of this world. Not because of the science, be it geology or evolution, but because of the arrogance to think that the knowledge that comes from human reason describes all of creation. It comes from an attitude that declares there is no God and rather steadfastly fails to acknowledge what the Psalmist knew … The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

What would you add to the list as part of “the wisdom of this world?”

Does the “wisdom of this world” have anything to do with the science and faith discussion? If so what and why?

If you wish to contact me directly, you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

Does God Change? (RJS)

Last updated on: July 28, 2015 at 4:50 am By RJS

Chapter 4 of Walter Moberly’s book Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture is, for many of us, a challenging read. This chapter addresses the title question of this post – does God change? More specifically, does God change his mind? God doesn’t change in the essence of his being, he doesn’t grow and mature like humans. But does he even react to human actions? This question, and Moberly’s wrestling with it, is worth a short series of posts – I anticipate about three. Today an introduction, next time a look at Jeremiah 18, and finally a look at Numbers 23:19 and 1 Sam 15 along with a summary of the chapter.

The Problem. John Calvin’s commentary on Genesis 6:6 is interesting (link here) The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. NIV

6. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth The repentance which is here ascribed to God does not properly belong to him, but has reference to our understanding of him. For since we cannot comprehend him as he is, it is necessary that, for our sakes he should, in a certain sense, transform himself. That repentance cannot take place in God, easily appears from this single considerations that nothing happens which is by him unexpected or unforeseen. The same reasoning, and remark, applies to what follows, that God was affected with grief. Certainly God is not sorrowful or sad; but remains forever like himself in his celestial and happy repose: yet, because it could not otherwise be known how great is God’s hatred and detestation of sin, therefore the Spirit accommodates himself to our capacity.

John Calvin’s theology quite simply would not let him take the verse literally. The verse says that God repented, but God can’t repent. The verse says that he was troubled – but God cannot experience such emotions. He can hate sin, but he cannot be affected with grief. The question for us is clear, does this verse convey information about God or does it need to be “accommodated” into agreement with our theology?

István Kolossváry in The Fabric of Eternity (see last Thursday’s post) frames his argument about God, time, and providence the way he does because he is convinced that the idea that “our free will can change God’s divine will” is “fundamentally contrary to Christian belief.” (p. 10)

Moberly doesn’t quote Calvin. Instead he opens the chapter by quoting Jörg Jeremias. “There is hardly any other Old Testament statement about God which has appeared as offensive to thinkers of all times – philosophers as well as theologians – as the sentence that God felt regret [Reue] over something planned earlier or even already performed, and retracted it.” (p. 107) Of course Genesis 6:6 didn’t suddenly become a problem with the reformation. The Jewish thinker Philo of Alexandria (25 BC to 50 AD) was troubled by the passage., arguing that God “knows no change of will, but ever holds fast to what He purposed from the first.” (p. 109)

Contradictions? Of course we can also find passages in the Old Testament that support the notion that God doesn’t change. For example: 1 Sam 15:29 He who is the Glory of Israel does not lie or change his mind; for he is not a human being, that he should change his mind. These apparent contradictions are part of the problem. Moberly comments on the approaches too often taken by conservative and liberal scholars.

Negatively, the presence of contradictions is sometimes appealed to as a reason for greater or lesser dismissiveness toward the Old (and/or New) Testament: why should one bother to take a clatter of contradictory voices too seriously? Correspondingly, denials of contradictions usually are motivated by a desire to uphold the integrity and reliability of the text. There is, in fact, a tricky conceptual question as to what constitutes a genuine contradiction, as distinct from a difference a disagreement, a tension, or a paradox; but this question rarely receives much attention because the negative rhetorical freight of the word “contradiction” is usually allowed to predominate. (p. 111)

Moberly works through an example in the work of a respected mainstream Old Testament scholar Robert Carroll, who finds these contradictions a serious problem for orthodox biblical theology. We don’t need to go into the details of Carroll’s argument, but Moberly’s response is worth considering. Any attempt to separate YHWH of the Old Testament from the God of the New “strikes at a fundamental tenet of Christian faith.”

The nature of the relationship between the narrative portrayal of YHWH and Christian creedal affirmations about the one God is indeed a genuine issue (although recognized through the ages, and not a novel recognition), and the “equation” between the two needs to be made in ways that take seriously the issues of literary genre and of religious language. But without some such equation, historic Jewish and Christian faiths are evacuated of much of their content. (p. 113)

Opportunities for Growth. There are two distinctions Moberly finds useful:

One is the difference between contradiction and paradox. Christian theology regularly articulates paradoxes, that is, affirmation of apparent opposites – for example: God is transcendent, and God is immanent; God is sovereign, but humans have free will; God saves by grace alone, yet human actions matter for salvation – where both poles are necessary in order to do justice to the complexity of reality and of God. The other difference is between formal and material contradictions. (p. 114)

Moberly quotes John Goldingay on formal contradictions – when both sides are stated in the same passage (we will see this in 1 Sam 15 later) both are part of a “coherent analogical description of God’s involvement in the world, and each would be misleading without the other.” (p. 114) These contradictions are not problems, but invitations to dig deeper because there is a reality that is not easily conveyed in human language. (As a scientist I note that the wave particle duality of quantum theory is an example of such a contradiction. It is a formal contradiction at the level of words, but not at the level of substance. Electrons and photons are both wave and particle.)

Coming back to Robert Carroll, Moberly notes:

He portrays the task of theological interpretation as representing a wooden and naïf approach to the text. In effect he sets up an easy target for some sure hits. His approach demonstrates well the enduring downside of polemics, which is the temptation to gain a hearing and score points at the cost of misrepresenting the other position. (p. 114)

A great line! The enduring downside of polemics. This isn’t unique to Carroll, or a trait confined to one side of the argument. We’ve all heard more conservative preachers and teachers fall victim to the same temptation – to make points and gain a hearing at the expense of the reasoned pursuit of truth.

The apparent (or real) contradictions and paradoxes in the text should challenge our complacency and be “an incentive to harder and more searching engagement with the subject matter at hand.” This has been the classic Christian approach through the centuries.

Is there a difference between contradiction and paradox?

Are these apparently contradictory texts a problem for the authority of scripture?

Can God change his mind?

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What New Testament letter includes the "fruit of the Spirit"?