'If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing'. (1 Cor 13:1,2).
Preaching recently on this chapter it struck me forcibly how the 'best' preaching with the 'best' doctrine fits neatly into Paul's description of what amounts to precisely 'nothing' without love. When all allowances have been made for Paul's polemic against Corinthian immaturity about gifts and for what scholars call hyperbole, it is still a damning indictment of many of our values. What is impressive, what is spectacular, what attracts admiration, is so much more desirable than what reflects the character of God.
So if I take this seriously, what difference would this make to my preaching? What would a sermon that was an act of love look like - or sound like?
1. It would be an offering of love to the Lord. First, my love is to be for him, and only then for the people in the pews. My preaching must first be an expression of loving God with all my heart, soul and mind. Its first aim would be the glory of God and only then the good of man. I would want to please him, not man, and not seek glory from man (1 Thess.2:4,6).
2. It would be part of my presenting my body as a living sacrifice, my reasonable worship(Rom 12:1).
3. It would be the use of my gifts in love, as Paul exhorts the Corinthians, which means primarily that it is for the 'common good' (1 Cor 12:7),to edify, to build up, the church (14:3,4,5 etc). As Paul constantly insists in chapter 14, communication in the church must be intelligible. Can the people understand this? Is it getting through to them?
4. In preparation therefore I would think more specifically about the good I wanted to do the people. Reading something about sermon preparation recently, the author mentioned in the penultimate paragraph of a substantial lecture, that 'the sermon must have application'. That is probably how I have usually approached things. But if love informed my preaching, would this be adequate? Would I not be thinking all along in terms of application, not just as something which the sermon 'should have'? How else is a sermon to build up the church?
5. I would think of the flock of God as my children for whom I am responsible (1 Thess.1:7,11).
6. I would want to share with the people not only the gospel but my own self (1 Thess. 2:8). I would want to show in my preaching that I cared for them and wanted them to know Christ and grow in Christ, exhorting and encouraging with all earnestness.
7. I would realise that preaching was not only the work of 40 minutes or so but part of a life of labour for the gospel (1 Thess 2:9; Acts 20:18-24).
8. I would be more thankful for the people, praying for them more diligently (1 Thess 1:2,3).
9. I would earnestly want Christ to be formed in them (Gal 4:19).
10. My preaching would be patient, not envying (no oblique criticims of other churches or ministers who seem to be doing better than you), long-suffering, not registering impatience with any member or the church; kind; not boastful, so no self-references which glorify me; and not arrogant as if I knew it all or was the really important person in the church; not self-seeking or irritable or resentful ('keeping a record of wrongs' - ever used a sermon to take revenge on someone you had not the courage to face personally?); would not gloat over wrongdoing but rejoice in what is good; it would be an expression of my bearing all things, hoping all things, believing all things and enduring all things.
I have a long way to go.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Unbelief is Foolishness
A little wit and wisdom from St Hilary (c. AD 315-67)
"Thus all unbelief is foolishness, for it takes such wisdom as its own finite perception can attain, and measuring infinity by that petty scale, concludes that what it cannot understand must be impossible. Unbelief is the result of incapacity engaged in argument. Men are sure that an event never happened, because they have made up their minds that it could never happen"
(Quoted in Systematic Theology vol 1 by Douglas Kelly, on p 19).
"Thus all unbelief is foolishness, for it takes such wisdom as its own finite perception can attain, and measuring infinity by that petty scale, concludes that what it cannot understand must be impossible. Unbelief is the result of incapacity engaged in argument. Men are sure that an event never happened, because they have made up their minds that it could never happen"
(Quoted in Systematic Theology vol 1 by Douglas Kelly, on p 19).
Monday, 1 March 2010
Systematic Theology: Queen or cinderella (3) ?
More reasons for doing systematic theology(ST).
Fourth, the nature of the gospel demands it. Not only does preaching require a systematising of Scripture, but we must obey the command of the Lord Jesus to go into the world, discipling all nations, teaching them all that Jesus has commanded...( Matt 28:16f). Such an endeavour demands that the whole word of Christ, the whole counsel of God, be communicated in thorough, accurate form, the parts in relation to the whole. As Wayne Grudem points out, such an exercise, (i) helps to overcome our wrong thinking and confronts us with the truth of Scripture; (ii) helps us to make better decisions in the future with regard to teachings that arise and need to assessed for consistency with Scripture; and (iii) makes us better disciples and helps spiritual growth. ST also helps preachers to think theologically and preach in a balanced, thorough way.
Fifth (and finally), the nature of the church demands it. There has been much discomfort in recent years about ST as traditionally done, basically because it is seen as too 'propositional' in content, too much influenced by Enlightenment presuppositions and methods and therefore dry, dull and remote from the daily life of the church. One articulate proponent of such criticism but from within the evangelical camp is Kevin Vanhoozer. Having not read his works but only read about him I tread cautiously, and will happily be corrected, but it seems fairly clear that he develops the idea of the dramatic nature of the Christian story. In his scenario, God is the playwright, the drama is the history of redemption, the script is Scripture, the dramaturge (who works on the script and interprets it for the actors) is the theologian (therefore theology is dramaturgy), the director is the Holy Spirit and pastors under him, and the actors are all believers. Doctrine is the fruit of dramaturgy, becoming direction for the actors - Christians - in wise living, in playing their part to the full in the drama of redemption.
Vanhoozer is obviously concerned that doctrine is seen as abstract and unrelated to the lives of ordinary Christians, too fond of presenting the Bible as a deposit of revealed truths and propositions whereas in fact God speaks to us in promises, warnings, comfort, commands etc. Vanhoozer has in his sight particularly Charles Hodge and Carl Henry and their ilk. (Hodge has been ably defended on this score by Paul Helm).
Now you may like me already be thinking in terms of 'caricature' not to mention 'straw man' which always helps to give a new way of looking at things a certain plausibility. A lot of what is said ties up with 'speech act ' theory (on which Vanhoozer has written fully in the past) and the idea of the Bible and preaching as narrative etc. But his 2005 book 'The Drama of Doctrine' has worked it out more fully than most.
What can be said? Some questions would be: does the dramaturge have such a role in the Bible? Who are these theologians who mediate the Bible for the pastors and people to follow? Should not each pastor and congregation under the guidance of the Holy Spirit be their own 'dramaturges' within the received traditions of the church? And what of the purpose of the Script? Is not the Bible a letter from God to his people? Is it not to bring his people into relationship with him? Does not the idea of God as a playwright (who may be totally unknown to the actors of a play - usually dead!) make him seem horribly remote and almost irrelevant once one has the script - and those dramaturges? What actor wants to enter into a personal relationship with the playwright?
Perhaps I am being unfair to Vanhoozer. But overall the whole presupposition of his thesis seems rather flimsy - that doctrine in the form of propositions is (i) unrepresentative of the intent and nature of Scripture; (of course there is more to Scripture but haven't theologians always known that? and are not promises, commands etc the very stuff of doctrine?); and (ii) unhelpful to the church. Relevance to the church however has been the burden of true systematic theologians throughout history. Listen to Calvin:
'Doctrine is not an affair of the tongue, but of the life; is not apprehended by the intellect and memory merely , like other branches of learning, but is received only when it possesses the whole soul, and finds its seat and habitation in the inmost recesses of the heart...To doctrine in which our religion is contained, we have given the first place, since by it our salvation commences; but it must be transfused into the breast, and pass into the conduct, and so transform us into itself, as not to prove unfruitful' (Insts. iii.vi.4). And so would say Hodge and Henry we can be sure.
Moreover Warfield quotes Auguste Sabatier: 'The promulgation of each dogma has been imposed on the church by some practical necessity' ('The Idea of Systematic Theology'; p 81 in Studies in Theology). That is, it is not an ivory tower discipline but carved out in the stuff of history.
So where do we go to make sure doctrine is relevant to the church and to Christian lives? We could look to a use of ST which helps the church to state its beliefs for the encouragement of its own faith, the proclamation of the gospel and the glory of God. We could look to the use of ST to help the church define what it believes clearly, to be memorised if need be, to instruct one another, young and old, and to witness to the outside world. We could see where ST has been hammered out on the forge of history to unite the true church in its fundamental beliefs, to help it to discern error and to know how and in what respects different branches of the church may unite and have fellowship with one another. We could even begin it with a personal, pastoral question like: 'What is your only comfort, in life and in death?' and answer: 'That I belong - body and soul, in life and in death - not to myself but to my faithful Saviour, Jesus Christ...' (Heidelberg Catechism, Q1).
In fact we could call it something like 'Confessional Theology'. Dramatic enough? Those who hammered out the confessions and creeds of the past would have thought so. And millions of Christians have thought so ever since. 'Dogma' they call it - hence Dogmatic Theology, a synonym for ST but with the added punch of being explicitly conducted within the discipline of the church.
(The relationship between confessions and ST is an interesting one - but suffice it to say that the confessions are the result of a lot of hard work in ST and they remain theoretically subject to the possibility of development in the light of further work in ST - though improvements are not often seen!)
To close - a quote from HCG Moule in Warfield (op cit p 86): '[All saving truth a believer enjoys is doctrine]; it is made to live in the heart by the Holy Ghost given to him. But it is itself creed, not life. It is revealed information'.
Maybe what we need is not the reconfiguring of doctrine to make it more dramatic, but more of the Holy Spirit to make it live.
Fourth, the nature of the gospel demands it. Not only does preaching require a systematising of Scripture, but we must obey the command of the Lord Jesus to go into the world, discipling all nations, teaching them all that Jesus has commanded...( Matt 28:16f). Such an endeavour demands that the whole word of Christ, the whole counsel of God, be communicated in thorough, accurate form, the parts in relation to the whole. As Wayne Grudem points out, such an exercise, (i) helps to overcome our wrong thinking and confronts us with the truth of Scripture; (ii) helps us to make better decisions in the future with regard to teachings that arise and need to assessed for consistency with Scripture; and (iii) makes us better disciples and helps spiritual growth. ST also helps preachers to think theologically and preach in a balanced, thorough way.
Fifth (and finally), the nature of the church demands it. There has been much discomfort in recent years about ST as traditionally done, basically because it is seen as too 'propositional' in content, too much influenced by Enlightenment presuppositions and methods and therefore dry, dull and remote from the daily life of the church. One articulate proponent of such criticism but from within the evangelical camp is Kevin Vanhoozer. Having not read his works but only read about him I tread cautiously, and will happily be corrected, but it seems fairly clear that he develops the idea of the dramatic nature of the Christian story. In his scenario, God is the playwright, the drama is the history of redemption, the script is Scripture, the dramaturge (who works on the script and interprets it for the actors) is the theologian (therefore theology is dramaturgy), the director is the Holy Spirit and pastors under him, and the actors are all believers. Doctrine is the fruit of dramaturgy, becoming direction for the actors - Christians - in wise living, in playing their part to the full in the drama of redemption.
Vanhoozer is obviously concerned that doctrine is seen as abstract and unrelated to the lives of ordinary Christians, too fond of presenting the Bible as a deposit of revealed truths and propositions whereas in fact God speaks to us in promises, warnings, comfort, commands etc. Vanhoozer has in his sight particularly Charles Hodge and Carl Henry and their ilk. (Hodge has been ably defended on this score by Paul Helm).
Now you may like me already be thinking in terms of 'caricature' not to mention 'straw man' which always helps to give a new way of looking at things a certain plausibility. A lot of what is said ties up with 'speech act ' theory (on which Vanhoozer has written fully in the past) and the idea of the Bible and preaching as narrative etc. But his 2005 book 'The Drama of Doctrine' has worked it out more fully than most.
What can be said? Some questions would be: does the dramaturge have such a role in the Bible? Who are these theologians who mediate the Bible for the pastors and people to follow? Should not each pastor and congregation under the guidance of the Holy Spirit be their own 'dramaturges' within the received traditions of the church? And what of the purpose of the Script? Is not the Bible a letter from God to his people? Is it not to bring his people into relationship with him? Does not the idea of God as a playwright (who may be totally unknown to the actors of a play - usually dead!) make him seem horribly remote and almost irrelevant once one has the script - and those dramaturges? What actor wants to enter into a personal relationship with the playwright?
Perhaps I am being unfair to Vanhoozer. But overall the whole presupposition of his thesis seems rather flimsy - that doctrine in the form of propositions is (i) unrepresentative of the intent and nature of Scripture; (of course there is more to Scripture but haven't theologians always known that? and are not promises, commands etc the very stuff of doctrine?); and (ii) unhelpful to the church. Relevance to the church however has been the burden of true systematic theologians throughout history. Listen to Calvin:
'Doctrine is not an affair of the tongue, but of the life; is not apprehended by the intellect and memory merely , like other branches of learning, but is received only when it possesses the whole soul, and finds its seat and habitation in the inmost recesses of the heart...To doctrine in which our religion is contained, we have given the first place, since by it our salvation commences; but it must be transfused into the breast, and pass into the conduct, and so transform us into itself, as not to prove unfruitful' (Insts. iii.vi.4). And so would say Hodge and Henry we can be sure.
Moreover Warfield quotes Auguste Sabatier: 'The promulgation of each dogma has been imposed on the church by some practical necessity' ('The Idea of Systematic Theology'; p 81 in Studies in Theology). That is, it is not an ivory tower discipline but carved out in the stuff of history.
So where do we go to make sure doctrine is relevant to the church and to Christian lives? We could look to a use of ST which helps the church to state its beliefs for the encouragement of its own faith, the proclamation of the gospel and the glory of God. We could look to the use of ST to help the church define what it believes clearly, to be memorised if need be, to instruct one another, young and old, and to witness to the outside world. We could see where ST has been hammered out on the forge of history to unite the true church in its fundamental beliefs, to help it to discern error and to know how and in what respects different branches of the church may unite and have fellowship with one another. We could even begin it with a personal, pastoral question like: 'What is your only comfort, in life and in death?' and answer: 'That I belong - body and soul, in life and in death - not to myself but to my faithful Saviour, Jesus Christ...' (Heidelberg Catechism, Q1).
In fact we could call it something like 'Confessional Theology'. Dramatic enough? Those who hammered out the confessions and creeds of the past would have thought so. And millions of Christians have thought so ever since. 'Dogma' they call it - hence Dogmatic Theology, a synonym for ST but with the added punch of being explicitly conducted within the discipline of the church.
(The relationship between confessions and ST is an interesting one - but suffice it to say that the confessions are the result of a lot of hard work in ST and they remain theoretically subject to the possibility of development in the light of further work in ST - though improvements are not often seen!)
To close - a quote from HCG Moule in Warfield (op cit p 86): '[All saving truth a believer enjoys is doctrine]; it is made to live in the heart by the Holy Ghost given to him. But it is itself creed, not life. It is revealed information'.
Maybe what we need is not the reconfiguring of doctrine to make it more dramatic, but more of the Holy Spirit to make it live.
Systematic Theology: Queen or cinderella (2)?
So what good reasons are there for doing systematic theology (ST)? We shall stick with this definition of ST: that it is the attempt to answer the question, what does the whole Bible say on this biblical subject? It is a synthesising, harmonising and summarising discipline using the biblical materials provided by exegesis and biblical theology.
I am making several assumptions at this stage: (i) that God exists; (ii) that he has revealed himself in many ways but, supremely, in writing in the Scriptures and personally in his Son ; (iii) that his revelation has been given in the context of covenantal relationship with his human creatures.
The first good reason for doing ST is that the nature of God demands it. The Lord is one God , perfectly self-consistent, and of one mind. Thus, presupposing as we must do to begin theology that God has spoken, we can further assume that his self-revelation will be self-consistent. To examine that revelation as thoroughly as we can to pursue its inner harmony is a duty of the covenant creature. The use of our minds made, as the whole person is made, in God's image, to pursue the mind of our Maker in his revelation is part of loving him with all our mind. To seek out the consisency of that revelation is to pursue his mind as far as we can. As Douglas Kelly puts it in the early pages of his Systematic Theology, it is to put questions to God's revelation so that he will reveal himself further.
So doing we see the parts of God's revealed will in relation to each other and in relation to the whole. We think the thoughts of God after him. Warfield's illustration is not perfect but helpful nonetheless: if exegesis gathers together individual soldiers, biblical theology puts them into regiments and companies, and ST sees them as part of a complete army to be manouevred into battle.
Is this artificial? No. We do it automatically. Any Christian who witnesses to a friend to tell them 'you are a sinner, Christ died for sinners, so believe and be saved', is using ST. Any believer who wearily but gladly rests on 'the Lamb of God, slain for me' is doing so in the context of a ST. For what would the individual idea mean apart from the framework of Scripture?
By nature we are synthesisers of information, striving for unity. The challenge is to do it as thoroughly and accurately as possible. The nature of man in God's image requires ST. Our use of reason to draw deductions from Scripture is authorised so far as it does not conflict with other Scripture; complete harmony will not be possible and we shall have to content ourselves with living with paradox at many points.
Second, the character of God demands it. God is self-consistent; he is also faithful and reliable. We can trust his revelation. His trustworthiness means he tells us the truth. A lover of truth, which a lover of God will be, will want to understand truth as far as possible as a homage to his Lord.
Third, the nature of Scripture demands it. The Bible is a book from God that is not set out systematically in the sense we are using. It is in some senses a history book, tracing the story of God's purposes from creation to consummation. Why do we need more? Quite simply, so we can preach it. Scripture has been given developmentally and incrementally; the message is not explicit until at least the Christ event of the New Testament, and possibly not until the end of Revelation. The whole has to be read in the light of the last 20% or so, the Old in the light of the New. Biblical Theology is in some ways an Old Testament discipline; once Christ has come, its work is largely done; equally, ST is only just beginning here and begins to understand the whole in the light of the consummation.
If ST did not do this, we would forever be telling a story but without a punchline; we would have no gospel to preach, no demand to make in God's name of sinners, no good news to offer.
B.B.Warfield says: 'The systematic theologian is pre-eminently a preacher of the gospel and the end of his work is obviously not merely the logical arrangement of the truths which come under his hand, but the moving of men, through their power, to love God with all their hearts and their neighbour as themselves...' For this, he needs to 'be having a full, rich, deep religious experience of the great doctrines with which he deals; he needs to be living close to God'.
Moreover, the student of systematic theology, adds Warfield, must not be merely a student, 'but, like the beloved disciple himself, in every sense...a divine'. ('The Idea of Systematic Theology',p 86-7 in Studies in Theology.)
Some more reasons for ST next time, and also a response to some who think doctrine needs to be thought of differently if we are to make it useful to the church.
I am making several assumptions at this stage: (i) that God exists; (ii) that he has revealed himself in many ways but, supremely, in writing in the Scriptures and personally in his Son ; (iii) that his revelation has been given in the context of covenantal relationship with his human creatures.
The first good reason for doing ST is that the nature of God demands it. The Lord is one God , perfectly self-consistent, and of one mind. Thus, presupposing as we must do to begin theology that God has spoken, we can further assume that his self-revelation will be self-consistent. To examine that revelation as thoroughly as we can to pursue its inner harmony is a duty of the covenant creature. The use of our minds made, as the whole person is made, in God's image, to pursue the mind of our Maker in his revelation is part of loving him with all our mind. To seek out the consisency of that revelation is to pursue his mind as far as we can. As Douglas Kelly puts it in the early pages of his Systematic Theology, it is to put questions to God's revelation so that he will reveal himself further.
So doing we see the parts of God's revealed will in relation to each other and in relation to the whole. We think the thoughts of God after him. Warfield's illustration is not perfect but helpful nonetheless: if exegesis gathers together individual soldiers, biblical theology puts them into regiments and companies, and ST sees them as part of a complete army to be manouevred into battle.
Is this artificial? No. We do it automatically. Any Christian who witnesses to a friend to tell them 'you are a sinner, Christ died for sinners, so believe and be saved', is using ST. Any believer who wearily but gladly rests on 'the Lamb of God, slain for me' is doing so in the context of a ST. For what would the individual idea mean apart from the framework of Scripture?
By nature we are synthesisers of information, striving for unity. The challenge is to do it as thoroughly and accurately as possible. The nature of man in God's image requires ST. Our use of reason to draw deductions from Scripture is authorised so far as it does not conflict with other Scripture; complete harmony will not be possible and we shall have to content ourselves with living with paradox at many points.
Second, the character of God demands it. God is self-consistent; he is also faithful and reliable. We can trust his revelation. His trustworthiness means he tells us the truth. A lover of truth, which a lover of God will be, will want to understand truth as far as possible as a homage to his Lord.
Third, the nature of Scripture demands it. The Bible is a book from God that is not set out systematically in the sense we are using. It is in some senses a history book, tracing the story of God's purposes from creation to consummation. Why do we need more? Quite simply, so we can preach it. Scripture has been given developmentally and incrementally; the message is not explicit until at least the Christ event of the New Testament, and possibly not until the end of Revelation. The whole has to be read in the light of the last 20% or so, the Old in the light of the New. Biblical Theology is in some ways an Old Testament discipline; once Christ has come, its work is largely done; equally, ST is only just beginning here and begins to understand the whole in the light of the consummation.
If ST did not do this, we would forever be telling a story but without a punchline; we would have no gospel to preach, no demand to make in God's name of sinners, no good news to offer.
B.B.Warfield says: 'The systematic theologian is pre-eminently a preacher of the gospel and the end of his work is obviously not merely the logical arrangement of the truths which come under his hand, but the moving of men, through their power, to love God with all their hearts and their neighbour as themselves...' For this, he needs to 'be having a full, rich, deep religious experience of the great doctrines with which he deals; he needs to be living close to God'.
Moreover, the student of systematic theology, adds Warfield, must not be merely a student, 'but, like the beloved disciple himself, in every sense...a divine'. ('The Idea of Systematic Theology',p 86-7 in Studies in Theology.)
Some more reasons for ST next time, and also a response to some who think doctrine needs to be thought of differently if we are to make it useful to the church.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Systematic Theology: Queen or Cinderella?
Some years ago it was quite clear that systematic theology, once regarded as the 'queen' of the theological sciences, had become the 'cinderella' - the despised scullery maid of the family.
Then things changed, it seemed; some fine systematic theologies were published and it appeared that systematics was regaining something of the respect formerly accorded her.
And now? I am not so sure. Am I detecting a certain scepticism about 'system' in evangelicalism again?
Without speculating about how widespread such an attitude may be, are there reasons why suspicion, bordering on rejection, of the systematisation of theological truth, may be 'in the air'?
Let me first briefly define terms - with help from Cornelius Van Til (Introduction to Systematic Theology, p.2):
'Exegesis takes the Scriptures and analyzes each part of it in detail. Biblical theology [as a discipline - MR] takes the fruits of exegesis and organizes them into various units and traces the revelation of God in Scripture in its historical development. It brings out the theology of each part of God's Word as it has been brought to us at different stages. Systematic theology then uses the fruits of the labours of exegetical and biblical theology and brings them together into a concatenated [linked together into a continuous chain - MR] system'.
Systematic theology is therefore at the end of a process (though practical or pastoral theology follows)and is itself the process of harmonising all that the Word of God says on a given subject - on Scripture, God, Man, Sin, Salvation, etc.
So with that in place, we continue.
Some people see systematic theology (ST)as:
unspiritual. 'Only the Bible' is their watchword. Not too many may say this openly but I suspect it is a surprisingly strong undercurrent amongst evangelicals. ST worthy of the name however is always firmly rooted in sound exegesis and exposition and is always to be measured against Scripture. Only the Bible is inspired; no ST I would value claims anything else. The uniqueness of the Bible is not threatened by the proper use of ST. A secondary 'standard' or level of instruction and authority is not in itself unspiritual - as I shall try to show next time.
unnecessary. This is closely related to the above. Why create admittedly human constructs when we have all we need in the Bible? But this is naive. Theology has been necessary throughout the history of the church, because the Bible has been argued over since (not to mention during) the time of the apostles. Systems help to explain, teach and protect biblical truth. If systems are not carefully thought through and explicit, they will surely be carelessly thought through and implicit.
We cannot help systematising and if we do not systematise well we will certainly do it badly.
imposing structure artificially on Scripture. This may be true in some STs; it is certainly not essential to it. Good ST recognises, and makes explicit, connections that are in Scripture. It is a question of 'joining the dots,' not putting in dots that are not there.
expressive of an authoritarian mentality. No doubt systems of thought can be abused to stifle questioning or creative thinking; that is neither desirable nor possible. Nevertheless we need some intellectual grids which help us to identify and challenge thinking which is not orthodox. Or are we afraid of that word?
Is there a postmodern spirit in evangelicalism , sympathetic to the 'generous orthodoxy' of the emerging church, wary of and even hostile to 'metanarrative', that really is unwilling to be told what is to be believed - however biblical it is? If this is creeping into evangelicalism more generally, it is worrying.
Christianity is not authoritarian, but it certainly believes in the authority of truth. A good ST is not that truth in itself, but an essential guide to it, and attacks on ST can be a thinly veiled attack on the notion of orthodox doctrine.
placing too much trust in human reasoning. This is closely related to the above but reflects a radical scepticism about the use of reason in studying the Bible. Of course reason is only to receive truth, not create it or stand in judgment over revelation. The enlightenment turned this on its head and subjected revelation to reason. An over-reaction to this perhaps refuses to go further in theology than can be discovered on the surface of Scripture. Recent examples of areas where the cry 'but we do not see this in Scripture' is heard are 'the imputed righteousness of Christ' and 'the covenant of works'. Sometimes this is genuine scholarly conviction; sometimes it is because of unfamiliarity with a broad range of Christian doctrine.
One response to this must be careful thought about the duty and validity of using sanctified reason in the service of Scripture. The issue is to think things through energetically to their biblically justified conclusion without going beyond what Scripture warrants. It is a difficult task to accomplish but it cannot be avoided.
uses unfamiliar and non-biblical technical terms. Yes, this is true; and proponents of ST must use the best terms available and explain them as well as possible. But there is no way of avoiding 'technical shorthand' as the church from the earliest days has found. Without the word 'Trinity' how would we conduct sensible discourse?
One of the consequences of the distaste for systematic theology is a neglect of the great Confessions of the church. We are a generation which really does not like the 'i's' dotted and the 't's' crossed. We are to be 'liberated' from all that. This, however, is like being told that to leave the motorway and enter thick fog is to be liberated from knowing where you are going. Restraints on original thought the Confessions are not; without being inspired, they protect the gospel and the faith of the church, but enable creative thought. Neglecting these great statements of the past is the last thing our generation can afford to do. We are abandoning depth and embracing novelty.
Next time I shall try to put more positively a case for systematic theology.
Then things changed, it seemed; some fine systematic theologies were published and it appeared that systematics was regaining something of the respect formerly accorded her.
And now? I am not so sure. Am I detecting a certain scepticism about 'system' in evangelicalism again?
Without speculating about how widespread such an attitude may be, are there reasons why suspicion, bordering on rejection, of the systematisation of theological truth, may be 'in the air'?
Let me first briefly define terms - with help from Cornelius Van Til (Introduction to Systematic Theology, p.2):
'Exegesis takes the Scriptures and analyzes each part of it in detail. Biblical theology [as a discipline - MR] takes the fruits of exegesis and organizes them into various units and traces the revelation of God in Scripture in its historical development. It brings out the theology of each part of God's Word as it has been brought to us at different stages. Systematic theology then uses the fruits of the labours of exegetical and biblical theology and brings them together into a concatenated [linked together into a continuous chain - MR] system'.
Systematic theology is therefore at the end of a process (though practical or pastoral theology follows)and is itself the process of harmonising all that the Word of God says on a given subject - on Scripture, God, Man, Sin, Salvation, etc.
So with that in place, we continue.
Some people see systematic theology (ST)as:
unspiritual. 'Only the Bible' is their watchword. Not too many may say this openly but I suspect it is a surprisingly strong undercurrent amongst evangelicals. ST worthy of the name however is always firmly rooted in sound exegesis and exposition and is always to be measured against Scripture. Only the Bible is inspired; no ST I would value claims anything else. The uniqueness of the Bible is not threatened by the proper use of ST. A secondary 'standard' or level of instruction and authority is not in itself unspiritual - as I shall try to show next time.
unnecessary. This is closely related to the above. Why create admittedly human constructs when we have all we need in the Bible? But this is naive. Theology has been necessary throughout the history of the church, because the Bible has been argued over since (not to mention during) the time of the apostles. Systems help to explain, teach and protect biblical truth. If systems are not carefully thought through and explicit, they will surely be carelessly thought through and implicit.
We cannot help systematising and if we do not systematise well we will certainly do it badly.
imposing structure artificially on Scripture. This may be true in some STs; it is certainly not essential to it. Good ST recognises, and makes explicit, connections that are in Scripture. It is a question of 'joining the dots,' not putting in dots that are not there.
expressive of an authoritarian mentality. No doubt systems of thought can be abused to stifle questioning or creative thinking; that is neither desirable nor possible. Nevertheless we need some intellectual grids which help us to identify and challenge thinking which is not orthodox. Or are we afraid of that word?
Is there a postmodern spirit in evangelicalism , sympathetic to the 'generous orthodoxy' of the emerging church, wary of and even hostile to 'metanarrative', that really is unwilling to be told what is to be believed - however biblical it is? If this is creeping into evangelicalism more generally, it is worrying.
Christianity is not authoritarian, but it certainly believes in the authority of truth. A good ST is not that truth in itself, but an essential guide to it, and attacks on ST can be a thinly veiled attack on the notion of orthodox doctrine.
placing too much trust in human reasoning. This is closely related to the above but reflects a radical scepticism about the use of reason in studying the Bible. Of course reason is only to receive truth, not create it or stand in judgment over revelation. The enlightenment turned this on its head and subjected revelation to reason. An over-reaction to this perhaps refuses to go further in theology than can be discovered on the surface of Scripture. Recent examples of areas where the cry 'but we do not see this in Scripture' is heard are 'the imputed righteousness of Christ' and 'the covenant of works'. Sometimes this is genuine scholarly conviction; sometimes it is because of unfamiliarity with a broad range of Christian doctrine.
One response to this must be careful thought about the duty and validity of using sanctified reason in the service of Scripture. The issue is to think things through energetically to their biblically justified conclusion without going beyond what Scripture warrants. It is a difficult task to accomplish but it cannot be avoided.
uses unfamiliar and non-biblical technical terms. Yes, this is true; and proponents of ST must use the best terms available and explain them as well as possible. But there is no way of avoiding 'technical shorthand' as the church from the earliest days has found. Without the word 'Trinity' how would we conduct sensible discourse?
One of the consequences of the distaste for systematic theology is a neglect of the great Confessions of the church. We are a generation which really does not like the 'i's' dotted and the 't's' crossed. We are to be 'liberated' from all that. This, however, is like being told that to leave the motorway and enter thick fog is to be liberated from knowing where you are going. Restraints on original thought the Confessions are not; without being inspired, they protect the gospel and the faith of the church, but enable creative thought. Neglecting these great statements of the past is the last thing our generation can afford to do. We are abandoning depth and embracing novelty.
Next time I shall try to put more positively a case for systematic theology.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Religion in mitigation?
If you are charged with a criminal offence you may bring certain matters in evidence to defend yourself. If you are nonetheless found guilty you may bring perhaps the same issues and/or other ones into account to seek to persuade the court to be lenient in sentencing. Such factors are called 'mitigating'.
Cherie Booth QC (aka Mrs Tony Blair) has got herself into a spot of bother recently over just this issue in her capacity as Recorder (judge) at Inner London Crown Court. A young man called Shamso Miah punched another man shortly after leaving a mosque. Miah was found guilty and sentenced, but Ms Booth told him 'I am going to suspend this sentence for the period of two years based on the fact you are a religious person and have not been in trouble before. You are a religious man and you know this is not acceptable'.
One can imagine Professor Dawkins going ballistic over this and indeed the National Secular Society has lodged a complaint with the Office for Judicial Complaints saying 'This seems to indicate that she would not have treated a non-religious person with the same latitude. We think this is discriminatory and unjust'.
For about the first time ever I think I am of a mind with the National Secular Society.
Let's analyse, from the sparse facts at our disposal, what happened. Being religious clearly is not a defence, nor is being of previous good character. So we are in the realm of mitigating factors. Not having been in trouble before is clearly relevant.
How, though, does the defendant's religiosity come into it? Ms Booth's thinking one assumes is that his religion will help him keep out of trouble and a significant part of that is his knowledge that such an act of violence is wrong. Presumably she had in mind the rehabilitation of the offender - we are not told what the sentence was - prison? (unlikely if a first time offender); a community service order? Either way it was suspended.
There are two elements. (i) Being religous. But Miah had only shortly before been in a mosque before he clobbered someone, apparently for no reason known to the victim. Could one not argue that religion was in fact bad for him? Might indeed have been an aggravating factor? Why is there an assumption (at least in Ms Booth's mind) that all religion is bound to be helpful? A biblical approach to non-Christian religions would be that they are formalised idolatry therefore inevitably harmful not beneficial to their practitioners. One may not expect Ms Booth or any other judge to take the biblical line, but why assume the opposite? Perhaps sociological evidence of the general law-abiding nature of strongly religious people played its part in her thinking. That, however, seems a flimsy basis on which to favour a religious person, giving a flavour of justification to the protest from the Secular Society.
(ii) That because he was religious (it seems) he knew that what he did was wrong. But (a) do not non-religious people know that thuggery is wrong, at least except in extreme cases? Why should that knowledge be counted as mitigating when it comes in a religous framework? And can it be assumed that his knowledge of the rightness or wrongness of his act was mediated through his religion anyway?
(b)Perhaps the more significant point is this - should not knowledge that what one does is wrong be an aggravating factor, not a mitigating one? He who knows what is right to do and does not do it will be beaten with many blows, for to whom much is given, of him will much be expected (Luke 12:48). There is no reason why this eminently reasonable principle should not be acceptable in the judicial system.
Therefore despite Ms Booth's no doubt good intentions one cannot help but scent the whiff of pro-religious prejudice here.
Moreover at the great bar of God's judgement, we should all be very clear: the practice of religion will bring us no favours; and it will be absolutely no mitigation to say 'I knew what I did was wrong'. Our punishment will be commensurate with our knowledge - according to the clarity of the law under which we live and the light we have.
For mercy we look elsewhere - to Jesus Christ - and not our religious practices nor our moral knowledge.
Cherie Booth QC (aka Mrs Tony Blair) has got herself into a spot of bother recently over just this issue in her capacity as Recorder (judge) at Inner London Crown Court. A young man called Shamso Miah punched another man shortly after leaving a mosque. Miah was found guilty and sentenced, but Ms Booth told him 'I am going to suspend this sentence for the period of two years based on the fact you are a religious person and have not been in trouble before. You are a religious man and you know this is not acceptable'.
One can imagine Professor Dawkins going ballistic over this and indeed the National Secular Society has lodged a complaint with the Office for Judicial Complaints saying 'This seems to indicate that she would not have treated a non-religious person with the same latitude. We think this is discriminatory and unjust'.
For about the first time ever I think I am of a mind with the National Secular Society.
Let's analyse, from the sparse facts at our disposal, what happened. Being religious clearly is not a defence, nor is being of previous good character. So we are in the realm of mitigating factors. Not having been in trouble before is clearly relevant.
How, though, does the defendant's religiosity come into it? Ms Booth's thinking one assumes is that his religion will help him keep out of trouble and a significant part of that is his knowledge that such an act of violence is wrong. Presumably she had in mind the rehabilitation of the offender - we are not told what the sentence was - prison? (unlikely if a first time offender); a community service order? Either way it was suspended.
There are two elements. (i) Being religous. But Miah had only shortly before been in a mosque before he clobbered someone, apparently for no reason known to the victim. Could one not argue that religion was in fact bad for him? Might indeed have been an aggravating factor? Why is there an assumption (at least in Ms Booth's mind) that all religion is bound to be helpful? A biblical approach to non-Christian religions would be that they are formalised idolatry therefore inevitably harmful not beneficial to their practitioners. One may not expect Ms Booth or any other judge to take the biblical line, but why assume the opposite? Perhaps sociological evidence of the general law-abiding nature of strongly religious people played its part in her thinking. That, however, seems a flimsy basis on which to favour a religious person, giving a flavour of justification to the protest from the Secular Society.
(ii) That because he was religious (it seems) he knew that what he did was wrong. But (a) do not non-religious people know that thuggery is wrong, at least except in extreme cases? Why should that knowledge be counted as mitigating when it comes in a religous framework? And can it be assumed that his knowledge of the rightness or wrongness of his act was mediated through his religion anyway?
(b)Perhaps the more significant point is this - should not knowledge that what one does is wrong be an aggravating factor, not a mitigating one? He who knows what is right to do and does not do it will be beaten with many blows, for to whom much is given, of him will much be expected (Luke 12:48). There is no reason why this eminently reasonable principle should not be acceptable in the judicial system.
Therefore despite Ms Booth's no doubt good intentions one cannot help but scent the whiff of pro-religious prejudice here.
Moreover at the great bar of God's judgement, we should all be very clear: the practice of religion will bring us no favours; and it will be absolutely no mitigation to say 'I knew what I did was wrong'. Our punishment will be commensurate with our knowledge - according to the clarity of the law under which we live and the light we have.
For mercy we look elsewhere - to Jesus Christ - and not our religious practices nor our moral knowledge.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Invictus (2)
(For those who have not read my last blog)
This poem by W.E. Henley, has become prominent because of the film of the same name. The film is about Nelson Mandela and South Africa's victory in the rugby world cup of 1995. The poem was a great influence on Mandela in his years in prison.
It reads as follows:
'Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my uncoquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul'.
Not only Mandela, but Prime Minister Gordon Brown and Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber of 1997 (executed in 2001) have professed to find inspiration from Henley's words, written by him at the age of 26 after losing a leg by amputation.
One can see why it inspires, though there is really something preposterous about it. Is it human, superhuman or sub-human to boast of not wincing or crying aloud in the face of tragedy? Is it virtuous or plain insensitive to be found 'unafraid' at the prospect of death? Is the man a hero or a block of wood?
Does the idea that an unconquerable soul should originate in some god or gods unknown and uninvolved, stand up for a moment? Clearly these deist gods have allowed the soul complete autonomy and have no more part to play in its 'fate'.
As I have pointed out before it is of course quite unable to give any moral guidance - a mass murderer and a national hero may both claim to have been inspired by it. It tweeks the will and the emotions, not the conscience or even the intellect.
'Invictus' means 'unconquered'. As such it is evocative for the Christian, who worships one who is unconquered. The Lord Jesus Christ experienced a night that covered him, 'Black as the Pit'; the bludgeonings he suffered, the bloody head and the place of wrath and tears and the 'Horror of the shade' were all too real. The scroll for him was charged with punishments more than we could bear, for he was bearing the punishments due to the sin of his people. The menace he faced was not of 'the years', nor of circumstance nor of chance but of his Father's wrath against sin.
How did he face it? Not entirely unafraid, nor yet unbowed, certainly not cavalierly facing whatever may come to him without wincing, crying aloud or without indeed immense trepidation. The Son of God knew what was to come, and feared it, and when it came he felt it. No block of wood, the eternal Son was neither superhuman nor sub-human but truly human. He truly was the master of his fate and the captain of his soul; only he could lay down his life and take it up again; only he could give up his spirit and not have it taken involuntarily from him. But his mastery and captaincy over his soul led him to lay it down in pure loving servanthood, for wretches like you and me. And it hurt him beyond mortal telling.
Yet God raised him from the dead because it was impossible for death to hold him.
How bleak and weak does Henley's bravado sound in the light of the cross.
Moreover, for those, too, who by grace have come to love and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, there is the promise of being 'invictus', indeed 'more than conquerors' through him who loved us. What a glorious invincibility this is which does not strut and posture in the face of Fate, but trusts a Father who is sovereign to order all things for the good of his own. Our confidence is not in our unconquerable souls but in the one who is unconquerable for us, and in his grasp of us and love for us.
This poem by W.E. Henley, has become prominent because of the film of the same name. The film is about Nelson Mandela and South Africa's victory in the rugby world cup of 1995. The poem was a great influence on Mandela in his years in prison.
It reads as follows:
'Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my uncoquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul'.
Not only Mandela, but Prime Minister Gordon Brown and Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber of 1997 (executed in 2001) have professed to find inspiration from Henley's words, written by him at the age of 26 after losing a leg by amputation.
One can see why it inspires, though there is really something preposterous about it. Is it human, superhuman or sub-human to boast of not wincing or crying aloud in the face of tragedy? Is it virtuous or plain insensitive to be found 'unafraid' at the prospect of death? Is the man a hero or a block of wood?
Does the idea that an unconquerable soul should originate in some god or gods unknown and uninvolved, stand up for a moment? Clearly these deist gods have allowed the soul complete autonomy and have no more part to play in its 'fate'.
As I have pointed out before it is of course quite unable to give any moral guidance - a mass murderer and a national hero may both claim to have been inspired by it. It tweeks the will and the emotions, not the conscience or even the intellect.
'Invictus' means 'unconquered'. As such it is evocative for the Christian, who worships one who is unconquered. The Lord Jesus Christ experienced a night that covered him, 'Black as the Pit'; the bludgeonings he suffered, the bloody head and the place of wrath and tears and the 'Horror of the shade' were all too real. The scroll for him was charged with punishments more than we could bear, for he was bearing the punishments due to the sin of his people. The menace he faced was not of 'the years', nor of circumstance nor of chance but of his Father's wrath against sin.
How did he face it? Not entirely unafraid, nor yet unbowed, certainly not cavalierly facing whatever may come to him without wincing, crying aloud or without indeed immense trepidation. The Son of God knew what was to come, and feared it, and when it came he felt it. No block of wood, the eternal Son was neither superhuman nor sub-human but truly human. He truly was the master of his fate and the captain of his soul; only he could lay down his life and take it up again; only he could give up his spirit and not have it taken involuntarily from him. But his mastery and captaincy over his soul led him to lay it down in pure loving servanthood, for wretches like you and me. And it hurt him beyond mortal telling.
Yet God raised him from the dead because it was impossible for death to hold him.
How bleak and weak does Henley's bravado sound in the light of the cross.
Moreover, for those, too, who by grace have come to love and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, there is the promise of being 'invictus', indeed 'more than conquerors' through him who loved us. What a glorious invincibility this is which does not strut and posture in the face of Fate, but trusts a Father who is sovereign to order all things for the good of his own. Our confidence is not in our unconquerable souls but in the one who is unconquerable for us, and in his grasp of us and love for us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)