2012

Pub Theology topics – Oct 18

In case you missed it, here were the topics on the sheet at Harmony Brewing Co. last Thursday.

1.    Rousseau said that ‘it is impossible to describe true enjoyment.’ Can words fully convey an experience?

2.    Is grace unique to Christianity?

3.    Scientists say dark matter is inferred, not seen.  Could you call that faith?

4.    Is science the discovery of what’s really out there or the construction of a way to perceive it? What about theology?

5.    “‘Real people’ are just as fictional as the characters in a novel; all our encounters with other people depend on our ability to ‘fictionalize’ them.”  Discuss.

6.    Does temporal and cultural distance create an unbridgeable gap between biblical texts and us?


No Pub Theology this week at Harmony in Grand Rapids, or Right Brain in Traverse City, as I will be on the road, and the TC group will break for this month’s Etcetera gathering, at the Good Work Collective.  Still looking for someone willing to help facilitate an ongoing Grand Rapids group – Harmony is a great setting and there is an interested group forming!

Is Christianity Dying?

While Spirituality is Thriving?

So asserted Steve McSwain in a recent Huffington Post column entitled: Why Christianity is Dying While Spirituality is Thriving.  He cited the stats that we’ve all heard: church attendance is down, religious affiliation is down, the rise of those claiming ‘none’ as their religion is on the rise.

Are churches bad for your spiritual health?

He noted that while all of this is the case, Christianity is actually “morphing into something new.”

I do not mean by this a new religion. To the contrary, what I’m seeing is a new and refreshing emergence within the Christian religion itself. Perhaps, as at no other time in Christian history, except perhaps the first few decades following the death of Jesus, the church today is slowly becoming, but in too few places as yet, something that I suspect Jesus himself might actually recognize. There is within this new emergence an affinity for those matters of social and personal justice, compassion, spiritual wholeness and unity within and among all people and faiths. These were the obsessions of Jesus while here on earth.

He notes that churches that exemplify these things as “glimmers of hope” here and there.

So what, Steve asks, does this new emergence within Christianity look like?  He makes five observations:

  1. This new, emerging church is made up of people who are desperately seeking ways of understanding, and in many cases, rewriting Christian theology. It needs to be rewritten. For decades now, the church has sought to survive on a doctrine of salvation that depended on the shedding of innocent blood to appease an obsessively angry God so as to rescue humanity from what would otherwise result in their conscious and eternal torment in hell. It’s crazy theology. It is not what Jesus taught. And as a consequence, it is more pagan than it is Christian.
  2. These new churches have a healthier view of their sacred text known as the Bible. They revere the Bible without making a god of it. Instead worshipping the Bible as a kind of “Constitution,” as Brian Mclaren dubs it in “A New Kind of Christianity,” they interpret the Bible for what it is: an inspired book, capable of providing inspiration, wisdom and spiritual direction, not a textbook on science or morality or answer-book preachers might use for “Stump the Preacher” talk-shows.
  3. These Christians no longer feel the enemy is liberalism, even “secular humanism,” as it is commonly labeled in the declining and dying branches within Christianity. Admittedly, they see dangers in any extreme notions, whether in liberal theology or humanistic philosophy, but they have awakened to the realization that the church has met the “real” enemy — and the real enemy is the church itself. Furthermore, these Christians no longer believe gays will destroy the institution of marriage when heterosexuals have successfully accomplished that all by themselves. Waging war against gays, lesbians and those within the transgender community is like trying to defend slavery. Furthermore, these have given up the church’s war with science and psychology, choosing instead to embrace the truths science teaches us, not only about the origins of the universe, but about the complexities of the human mind, human development and sexuality.
  4. Further, I see this new evolving Christianity being birthed in the hearts of sincere and devoted Christ-followers who are open to what other religions can teach us about spirituality, too. They would regard, for example, Desmond Tutu’s statement “God is not a Christian,” as the truth. While affirming that “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself” (2 Corinthians 5:19), and cherishing that belief within their own faith confessions, these Christians would embrace and, in fact, do embrace the spiritual insights that may come from Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and scores of other spiritual traditions. They have exchanged the insanity of the dying church that insists “We’re right! You’re wrong,” for the sane “We’re in and you are, too” approach to human and religious solidarity. Together, these Christians seek spiritual awareness — spiritual enlightenment — and they seek the good of all people, too, even those who embrace no religion.
  5. Finally, this emerging new Christianity no longer interprets Christian “hope” as some “pie-in-the-sky” future paradise that they alone will enjoy, along with those who agree with their theology, their eschatology and their exclusivist beliefs. No, these Christians would view “hope” the way Jesus their leader viewed it; the way the prophets of old viewed it; the way the entire biblical narrative views it: as a vision of the world wherein peace and justice and plenty for everyone exists in the here and now; a world that reflects “God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10); a world where all people are treated equally, cared for, respected, fed and nurtured for the wonderful creations of God that they are; a world where all people regardless of color, sex, race, religion, political party, nationality or sexual orientation have a voice and a place; a world where people and nations, as the Prophet Isaiah put it, “beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; where nation no longer takes up sword against nation; where war is no longer learned” (Isaiah 2:1-5).

What do you think?  Do you see these shifts?  Are they glimmers of hope or cause for alarm?  Are there other (or better) ways Christianity could (or should) consider in this shifting religious/spiritual landscape?

Some reactions to this in my own circles:

“While I can appreciate some of the insights I find some of it disturbing in many ways maybe even more so in some of the responses and the place of scripture among these new church communities.”

“So the author insists churches must give up the “We’re right” and “You’re wrong” attitude. In fact he calls that attitude “insanity.” Yet, he labels traditional theology centered on vicarious atonement “pagan.” He contends the only “healthy” view of the Bible is to see it only as vaguely inspired. To hold an alternative position on Scripture is “making a god out of it.” I could go on, but it seems McSwain thinks he is uniquely positioned to dismiss views he disagrees with as insane, pagan, unhealthy and idolatrous. Yea, it’s only traditional, orthodox Christians who are intolerant. Sure.”

“Many who leave attempt to find home once again. (See the NYT piece on Boomers coming back to church.) The heady path away from home, when the future seems full of possibility is exhilarating, and people call upon their friends to join them. Actually building a sustainable life away from home, camping if you will, can get wearisome and laborious. Leaving a community that had ideas and notions that seemed to imprison you feels liberating. Building a new community, however is real work, and one can discover that your former group didn’t have a monopoly on bad relational habits, selfishness and immaturity.” (This is from Paul VanderKlay’s response, which I appreciated).

McSwain thinks these shifts (among others) are vital:

It is this kind of church that will emerge and thrive. The others will die a slow and agonizingly painful death.

For all the reasons above, and a host of others, spirituality is thriving both inside and outside these new and emerging expressions of the Christian faith. For me, and a growing number of other progressive-minded Christians, that is a cause for hope.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and how your own faith (and faith communities) continue to grow and thrive despite what appears to be an increasing disdain for religion, and an increasing embrace of spirituality.

There is much I resonate with in the original article, yet a few questions to close:

  • Is there enough depth in individualized ‘spirituality’ to sustain one over the long haul?
  • How can faith communities move forward without simply jettisoning what got them where they are?
  • Are we on the precipice of some major changes in Christianity, or just at a swing of the pendulum that will soon come back the other way?

Pub Theology Recap – Oct 11, 2012

We had a great turnout last night at Harmony Brewing Company, in Eastown, Grand Rapids.  This little brewery has been open since February, and features a cozy atmosphere, spins some good tunes (last night was Vinyl Thursday), and brews up some great offerings.

A few of us started off with Jackson’s Joy Fall Festival Ale, which was a good, if a bit sweet, oktoberfest-style ale.  Others jumped in with the Hideout IPA, which was a stand-in for the usual Fiddlestix IPA.  My favorite on their board is the Star Stuff Belgian Dubbel.  The Black Squirrel Porter was unfortunately also tapped out.

About a dozen of us squeezed in together in the upper-level, a small, quiet space of about 10 or 12 tables.  A couple familiar faces, a few Pub Theology first-timers, and some regulars made for a great discussion.

The sheet had the following topics:

1.    True or False: the better you can articulate what you believe, the more spiritually mature you are.

2.    How do certain [spiritual] practices open you up to new possibilities?

3.    Is there a difference between the Word of God & the words of scripture?

4.    Is it ever wrong to try to convert someone from one religion to another?

5.    What’s the difference between Christian education and indoctrination?

6.     Is a believer [ontologically] different from a nonbeliever?

Getting to the bottom of things.

We kicked off the evening on the first topic, and there was immediate push back to the notion that ‘spiritual maturity’ is linked to the ability to speak well about one’s beliefs.

Immediate counter-examples were offered: an older person who has a wisdom and maturity about him but is not a good source for systematic theology; a mother who lives in a way that bespeaks spiritual maturity (it was noted that there is more than one way to articulate things, we shouldn’t limit it to verbal articulation).

Another person thought the whole notion of ‘spiritual maturity’ was dubious.  “Doesn’t that whole idea speak of having arrived?  Does one ever arrive?  Isn’t spiritual maturity that thing you strive for but never reach?”

We then mused about whether the church often falls into the trap of equating these two things: articulation and maturity.  In my own tradition, it’s when you can say what you believe, when you can give the right answers, that we acknowledge that you have reached at least some level of spiritual achievement that you weren’t at before.  Perhaps there are other means for evaluating faith — in fact I’m sure there are, and I think many of us are wanting to think more holistically about what it means to grow in one’s faith, beyond just words.

At the same time, someone noted that if you can’t at a basic level explain what you believe, perhaps you have some work to do.  Fair enough.

The second topic had us discussing the various practices that lead to spiritual growth, and open one up to new possibilities, new ways of experiencing God, or living into one’s experience of God.  Things like prayer, meditation, Scripture reading were mentioned, as well as getting involved in justice issues like poverty, slave trade, etc.  “My faith is deepened as I seek to live among those who are marginalized in our society.”

One person noted that in his own very evangelical tradition, spiritual maturity equaled the ability to share the gospel with someone else: “How many people have you led to Christ?”

This led us naturally into topic no. 4: Is it ever wrong to convert someone to another religion?

There was some hesitation.  It was initially noted that there are certainly wrong ways to share one’s faith: the in-your-face model, the used-car-salesman-routine, the forcing-awkward-family-relationships routine.  Yet some felt, if eternal things are at stake – how could it be wrong to convert someone?

Then one person at the end of the table piped up: “Absolutely.  There are times it is flat out wrong to disrespect someone else’s culture and religion by trying to convert them.  I have friends in Buddhist and Hindu countries and I don’t think it would be right at all to go in there and try to convert them.  I plan on seeing my Muslim and Buddhist friends in heaven.  But maybe that means I’m not a real Christian.”

This provocative perspective made some uncomfortable while others cheered.  What do you think?

We ended the evening on topic no.3:  Is there a difference between the Word of God and the words of scripture?

This took us many places, but we began by looking at the perspective that there are two books in which God speaks to us – one, the book of the Bible, the other, the book of creation.  It was noted that in a recent NPR story a person from a more evangelical background noted that someone could not believe in evolution and be a Christian. “This drives me crazy!  How can we not be willing to find God in the world he has made, even if that forces us to reconsider some of our [long-held] theological positions?”

We then wondered about extrabiblical books, other gospels, the apocrypha, and so on.  Are these ‘God’s Word’ in any sense?  How does canon come into play, and should we restrict the Holy Spirit to speaking only through what ‘made it in’? And what about other traditions that include other books?  Or what about books that were left out, were those for spiritual or political reasons, or some other reason altogether?  Finally we wondered, what about words in the Scriptures themselves that portray God in a less than flattering light.  Are these too the “Word of God”, or are there instances in the canon where we see humanity struggling to understand God, and perhaps not always getting it right?  This latter line of thinking made several mutter “Marcion” under their breath, and made plenty nervous.  Others felt these were legitimate questions that we should be able to ask.

In the end, it was a great night.  Good beer, new relationships, honest conversation.  All agreed that the pub is a place to have these open and honest conversations, to have our thinking pushed, and to recognize that God just might be bigger than we’ve thought.   (And of course we ended in plenty of time to watch the Detroit Tigers beat the Oakland A’s behind the arm of Justin Verlander!).


Feel free to weigh in on any of the above topics in the comment section below!

Drop Your Defenses… and Pick Up a Beer!

Pub Theology: A Book Review

By Rob Kroese

Disclaimer: Bryan Berghoef is the husband of the cousin of a guy I went to college with. His kids swam in my pool and proclaimed it to be the best part of their California vacation. In exchange, Bryan gave me a copy of Pub Theology.


As I was reading Pub Theology, my thoughts alternated between, “Wow, this is such a great idea,” and “Wow, this is so embarrassing.” Allow me to explain.

Pamphlets are used to convey information quickly, often by summarizing.

Pub Theology is about an idea. The idea is this: let’s get together with other people and talk about theology over beer. That’s it. That’s the whole idea. Not exactly rocket surgery, as I’ve been known to say after I’ve had a few beers myself. You’d hardly think you’d need to write a book about an idea like that. I mean, it’s a fairly short book, but still. An idea like that needs a flyer, or maybe a pamphlet. Pamphlet is a really strange word. It’s kind of creeping me out. Pamphlet. OK, moving on.

Warning: May Impair Theological Judgment

The embarrassing part is that I can see why Bryan did have to write this book. You see, in Christian circles, there’s a long tradition of discussing theology. It works like this: we meet with a bunch of other Christians in the church social hall, open with prayer, have coffee and windmill cookies (type of cookies may vary by denomination), listen to a presentation by some recognized authority (generally a pastor) and then discuss the topic amongst ourselves for 22 minutes. Often there are breakout groups and worksheets involved. At the end, the leader presents the answers to the questions and we mark up our worksheets. Then we close with prayer. I daresay that most North American Christians have never seriously discussed theology in any environment that was not ultimately controlled by some religious authority (church, Sunday school, Christian school, Christian camp, etc.).

“Dude, I got lost. Is this the theology discussion?”

If you grew up in that tradition and you’re uncomfortable with the idea of discussing theology over beer, with atheists, Buddhists, Jedis, or whoever else might show up, in an uncontrolled environment without any “leaders” and without any real structure (no worksheets, no agenda, no prayer), then you should read this book. Bryan makes an excellent case for why that’s exactly what we should be doing – and not as a strategy to “reach the unbelievers,” but rather as a way of building bridges and (gasp!) possibly learning something from people who believe differently than you.

If you’re outside of that tradition, the amount of effort that Bryan puts into convincing Christians that this this is a good idea may seem a little baffling to you. On the other hand, when’s the last time you had a serious discussion about theology (or religion, or spirituality, or whatever you want to call it) with someone whose beliefs are starkly different from your own? North American Christians have had a particularly easy time avoiding “unbelievers,” over the past couple hundred years, since Christianity has been the dominant religion during that time. But we all tend to congregate with like-minded people, dismissing those who disagree with us as ignorant or morally deficient.

Pub Theology is a call to all of us, not just Christians, to put down our biases and have an honest, respectful discussion over beer. And lest you think the book is one long polemic against dogmatism, it’s really more of an account of Bryan’s own experiences with facilitating pub theology gatherings (I hate that word, facilitating, but “running” doesn’t seem right), why he got started with it in the first place, and what worked and didn’t work. It’s an encouraging story and I’ll be surprised if, when you finish it, you aren’t tempted to get together for beer and discussion with some local heretics, weirdos and Bible-thumpers at your own local tavern.


Robert Kroese’s sense of irony was honed growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan – home of the Amway Corporation and the Gerald R. Ford Museum, and the first city in the United States to fluoridate its water supply. In 2009, he called upon his extensive knowledge of useless information and love of explosions to write his first novel, Mercury Falls. Since then, he has written two sequels, Mercury Rises (2011) and Mercury Rests (due out October 18, 2012).

Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People… or Not

“Catch my conservative drift there? No? Too much? Let’s take it again from the top.”

A fellow pastor recently wrote a recent column entitled, “Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People.”  My interest was immediately piqued, as someone who is also interested in helping people of all ages cultivate their spiritual lives, including ‘young people.’

In the post, Aaron Vriesman, who pastors a church on the north side of Holland, Michigan, begins: “As a 33 year-old minister in the CRC, I can say with both personal and professional experience that conservative churches do indeed draw young adults.  In particular, churches that have a self-consciously high view of Scripture, a commitment to the creeds and confessions, traditional stances on marriage and sexuality, and work to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ actually do draw young adults.”

I have no doubt that this is the case.  He goes on to note some of the reasons, some of which I agree with, and some of which I might view from a slightly different angle.

To provoke thought, the article is prefaced with:
“Why would young adults be attracted to conservative churches? Aren’t young adults more educated and scientific in their view of the world? Aren’t young adults more accepting of premarital sex and gay relationships? Aren’t young adults more interested in communities of dialogue than cold hard doctrine?”

That’s more like it.

I’ll let you read his reasons in full, so that I’m not taking any parts of this out of context. (quotes italicized)

  1. Young adults want authenticity.  All people, but young people especially, appreciate people who are up front about who they are and what they are about.  As advertisements everywhere attempt to lure people into spending money with attractive images and promises, young people are constantly being played.  Give it to me straight.  Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.  Tell me where you stand and then I can form my own opinion.  Don’t be a jerk about it, but at least be honest. Some churches shy away from Bible passages that might offend certain groups or avoid verses about God’s judgment because it makes God appear unloving.  Conservative churches with a higher view of Scripture are not shy about anything the Bible says.  They will read and preach on the uncomfortable Bible texts.  Even those that equate divorce with adultery, tell wives to submit to husbands and spell out horrifying disaster for sinners. Since conservative churches are not worried about political correctness of any kind, they present the true God and Jesus Christ in all authenticity, with (what some would say) “warts” and all.  Even if some young adults disagree with what they hear, they usually respect a straightforward message without spin.

    My response.
      I agree, young adults want authenticity.  Aaron correctly notes that our culture has much shallow, get-your-attention-and-your-dollars gimmicky stuff going on.  Something deeper and more substantive does indeed have a certain draw.He notes, “Give it to me straight.  Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” He goes on to note that conservative churches don’t shy away from certain biblical texts. His examples consist of divorce, submission of women to their husbands, and judgment for sin (read between the lines: hell).  How can they be so daring as to talk about things so culturally against the grain?  Because “they’re not worried about political correctness of any kind.”

    I’d like to push back slightly.  There is indeed a culture that would take issue with people equating divorce with adultery, with endorsing repressive measures against women, and with fire-and-brimstone theology.  So in this sense, yes, these conservative churches are ‘against the grain.’  But let’s think about context for a moment.  Vriesman preaches in West Michigan in a very conservative area, in a very conservative congregation, likely among largely rural congregants who grew up in such a conservative milieu.  So in fact, what he is saying should be turned around.  In his context, preaching these things is exactly what people want and expect to hear.  It is not against the grain.  It is politically-correct, because if he were to suddenly start preaching a more progressive message that divorce is much more complicated than simply equating it with adultery (which everyone knows intuitively, but has to listen to repeated sermons to be convinced otherwise), that God loves everyone including divorced folks, that women and men should equally respect each other, and that perhaps our view of God ought to transcend a Puritan, fire-breathing, sinners-in-the-hands-of an angry God—if this was his approach, he would be questioned.  In his environment, sticking with a conservative approach is exactly the politically correct thing to do.

    He goes on to say that this approach communicates to people ‘the true God’ and Jesus Christ ‘in all authenticity.’ Hmmm… The hubris to assume your view and only your view displays God as he actually is (rather than our ideas of God) is in fact the kind of thing that causes young people outside of the bubble he is operating in to flee from churches.  Because they know it simply isn’t true, if anyone has taken the time to really wrestle with and engage traditions outside of their own, be it any of the many other Christian traditions, as well as other faiths. (See the excerpt of Chapter 6 of my book, An (Un)Safe Place, on Patheos).

    In fact, many of these conservative churches supposedly teaching about Jesus ‘in all authenticity,’ often fail to communicate the Jesus who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to love our enemies, to practice reconciliation at all costs, to respond to violence with forgiveness.  These same churches consistently favor a militaristic approach to foreign policy, which looks like anything but ‘the authentic Jesus’, they often favor social policies that marginalize the poorest and weakest in our society, and one could go on. The point being that there is a healthy diversity of thought on what it means to follow ‘the real Jesus,’ and you better have a seat next to the angels in heaven before you claim to alone have insight into ‘the true God.’

    So back to the initial point: I agree young people want authenticity. I think all people do. The examples mentioned may well be authentic, but they hardly put conservative churches in sole possession of authenticity.

  1. Young adults want to know the real God.  Many people today build their own gods with the bits and pieces they like from various sources, but what is God really like?  Some churches present Scripture as human writing, introducing Biblical texts with, “Paul says…” or “David says…”  Conservative churches will say, “The Lord says…” or “God’s Word tells us…” Human opinions are a dime a dozen, but the Bible is not another human opinion.  It is God’s truth, and so it is worth getting up early on a weekend to hear.

    My response. 
    “Many people today built their own gods with bits and pieces they like from various sources.” Yes they do. Sources like the Heidelberg Catechism, or John Calvin, Saint Augustine, or various Bible passages. WE ARE ALL guilty of doing this.  Me too.  Can we do otherwise?  In our discussion at the pub the other night we asked, “Do we sometimes confuse our idea(s) of God with God?”  The answer, regardless of our approach, is YES. We are human beings, therefore it is impossible we will (in this life), have a pure, unfiltered view of who God is.  To say anything less is dishonest.

    Does that mean we are in the dark? Not at all. We do have the Scriptures, we have the witness of various theological traditions through history, and so on.  But it is only honest to acknowledge that there exists, and has always existed, a multiplicity of such traditions, even in biblical times.  The Bible itself is not always in agreement with itself.  Vriesman notes, “Some churches present Scripture as human writing…” as if this is some sort of indictment.  Scripture is human writing!  Perhaps he forgot his seminary training, that a Reformed view of the inspiration of Scripture is organic:  God’s Spirit at work through human beings, including all of their own personalities, character, humanity, and setting.  And of course, humanity is humanity. Broken, flawed, with a perspective inescapably rooted in one’s own self. To pretend that we don’t have to say, “Paul said… this,” but “Isaiah writes this…” is to miss out on fully understanding the very means God chose to use to communicate himself to us!  To simply say, “God says… ____,” without doing the hard work of understanding what God was saying originally in and through the very human authors, in and through its very context and to its first hearers, is to endanger one to presumptively miss out on what God is saying today, all the while claiming to speak for “the real God.”  (See my earlier post: What I meant to sayfor a discussion on the complicated reality of communication and interpretation, then and now).

    Young people can see through such unnuanced approaches, and are decreasingly satisfied with them.  More and more young people do want to know God as he really is, which is why they aren’t satisfied to sit in the pew and be told that we know exactly who God and what he is like. They are not satisfied with being told: “you’re not allowed to do any spiritual exploration on your own outside our own doctrinal boundaries, because that is ‘dangerous’.”  Such fear of exploration may well betray the fact that one doesn’t really believe what one claims to believe. And of course, the implication that conservative churches are the only place to encounter ‘the real God’ implies that any other sort of church will only connect you with something less. My experience (and many others), would say that God can be met in a variety of settings.
  1. Young adults hunger for meaning beyond themselves.  The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant. While this can be a smooth elixir to swallow, the net result is a sour stomach of uncertainty and meaninglessness.  Is there anything that is truly right and wrong?  Is life’s ultimate goal just being nice to everybody and never rock the boat?  Hearing about the ultimate truth from God’s own Word gives a measure of meaning beyond popular opinion and greater than our own selves.  Truth that confirms what we already feel and believe only betrays itself as our own personal truth. Truth greater than ourselves by definition will challenge our views, prick our hearts, cause us to humble ourselves and submit to God’s way. As awkward and unpopular as God’s way might be, its superior source and loving purpose is compelling.

    My response. 
    “The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant.”  Good!  Then perhaps the message of Jesus has been getting through.  Jesus tolerated and accepted people, people who were regularly dismissed from access to God through the religious institutions of the day: the poor, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, those labeled “sinners.”  The people he had the most problem with were the religious ones who didn’t practice the ‘toleration’ and ‘acceptance’ Jesus knew God extends toward all his broken humanity.  Apparently it gives this writer a ‘sour stomach’ to imagine that we should practice such love, tolerance, and acceptance.

    To go from this initial point to asking, ‘Is there anything that is truly right and wrong?’ is a complete disconnect. Extending God’s love doesn’t mean anything goes. It means everyone is welcome. It means we become the love of God on display.  And as we do that, people begin to experience healing to their brokenness, and consider ways to begin living in wholeness and newness.  And, this writer forgets, when we act in this way, it does rock the boat.  Jesus accepted and loved such people, and was constantly berated by the institution that claimed to speak for God: “This man welcomes sinners, and eats with them.”  “This one is a drunkard and a glutton.”

    I agree with his final point, that truth greater than ourselves will challenge our views and prick our hearts.  I’m simply wondering whether such truth is ever spoken in the kinds of communities he seems to be representing.  Would Jesus, himself a young person, be welcome in these churches with his radical displays of love and acceptance?
  1. Young adults resonate with sin. They are familiar with the suffering that comes from broken relationships, dead-end jobs, brittle commitments and love with strings attached.  Even a self-centered and narcissistic generation like mine has burning questions about why so many awful things happen in the world.  Preaching the reality of sin has a way of bringing light to the elusive suffering that is so apparent everywhere.  Some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs in response to the world’s problems. Some young adults are attracted to this because they feel the ache of sin and want to solve its problems.  But such human efforts mostly produce fatigue and frustration.  Sin, according to the Bible, is actually a spiritual problem that cannot be defeated by human efforts.  The truth, pure and simple, is that we need a Savior.  Instead of trying harder, we conquer sin in ourselves only as much as we trust God to work through us.  This leads us to open ourselves to God’s grace that comes by faith.  Grace calls for human activity, but activity that is motivated by thanksgiving and love for God, not a better world as an end in itself.

    My response. 
    Here I have a lot of agreement with the author. Many of us are indeed familiar with the suffering that comes from the things he notes.  Suffering that comes from inside of us, as well as suffering that is far beyond any one of us (famine, natural disasters, war, etc).  He notes that “some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs.”  His solution is simply to “preach the reality of sin,” because if we do all this hard work of increasing awareness, discussing solutions, and working toward improving things will result simply in ‘a better world as an end in itself.’  Imagine.  A better world?  Is that it?  Let’s stop before we get to that point.  Let’s instead focus on ‘spiritual problems.’  I agree that humanity is sinful and broken.  I agree that God brings healing through Jesus.  However, I balk at the notion that ‘a better world’ is not an end in itself, and that nothing can change unless we remind everyone that we can’t actually do anything.  In fact, if we paid attention, we’d see that non-Christians everywhere are working hard to effect real change in our world, and we would do well to begin to partner with them, rather than hide in our circles commiserating with each other over the futility of it all.
  1. Not all conservative churches attract young adults.  Some conservative churches simply attempt to hold on to the past.  Those that recoil at different ministry tactics or refuse to try the newer (or older) worship music reflect the idolatry of comfort zones, which undermines the gospel’s power even if it is accurately presented from the pulpit. The key component of conservative churches that attract young adults is the visible display of God’s love. Before and after worshiping together, the love of God is visible in the way people greet and speak to one another. People of a different color or socio-economic class are welcomed with the same smiles and greetings as everyone else. Truths are held without compromise but questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn. The conservative moral standards are used to encourage sinners in their emerging faith, not as merit badges of superiority.

    My response. 
    Agreed!  Not all conservative churches attract young adults.  But neither do all progressive churches. Or all of any kind of church.  I also agree that the key component in a church attracting young adults is the visible display of God’s love.  However, I think it goes far beyond creating a welcoming environment over coffee before and after the service.  It comes not in simply being nice to someone ‘of a different color.’  It comes not by trumpeting our ‘conservative truths and moral standards.’  It comes by people living in genuine community throughout the week, people who can rely upon each other (and I know this often is practiced very well in conservative churches), but also by people living sacrificially on behalf of a broken world. People like the early church, who modeled Christ’s teaching by having everything in common, by taking in the poor, by suffering to declare that the way of a suffering Jewish teacher was superior to the way of Rome and Caesar.

    He notes in the end that ‘questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn.’ This seems at odds with his earlier comments which dismiss dialogue in favor of preaching and ‘cold hard doctrine.’  I agree, we learn when we honestly engage views differently from our own, when we admit we haven’t figured everything out, least of all God. This approach, in my own experience, is refreshing to young people who have too often experienced the opposite.


The article closes as follows:
“At the end of the day, people need to see that God’s truth as well as his grace and love are more than theoretical beliefs. God is true and his Son Jesus Christ is mighty to save. Churches that show Jesus Christ is real will always attract people of all ages
.”

I might articulate something more along these lines:
“At the end of the day, people need to experience the reality of God’s love and grace through communities seeking to embody the way of Jesus, the prophet and rabbi who declared that the ‘Kingdom of God is at hand.’  Churches that really seek to follow Jesus will attract people of all ages, but will not necessarily be popular.”


What do you think?  Do conservative churches attract young people?  Can we make such sharp delineations as ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ or ‘liberal’ among churches?  Is this a useful approach?  What might draw you to a particular community of faith? What might keep you away?

What’s the Big Idea?

Quite a bit recently people have been ready to write the eulogy on the church, and particularly on organized religion.  Christianity is in crisis they say.  My own tradition is not exempt, it seems.  Recently John Van Sloten of New Hope Church in Calgary noted in a blog post that:  “the Christian Reformed Church is in desperate need of a big idea.”

As to why, Van Sloten, recently returned from some denominational meetings, said this:

“Our numbers are dropping, young adults in the church have disappeared, our congregations are aging, and according to discerning minds we are about 15-20 years away from the death spiral that many mainline denominations are now in. Some think we’ve held on this long because of one of our biggest idiosyncrasies; our tendency to control everything so tightly!

The writing is on the wall.”

He is probably right.  Our time has come.

But Van Sloten isn’t ready to give up the ghost just yet:

“And in order to stop the bleeding – no even more – in order to resuscitate the patient, drastic steps need to be taken.  No more incremental programming changes. No more technical fixes. We need something big; an adrenaline shot to the heart.”

I read his post with some interest, being a fellow clergy member in the same denomination.  He then poses two possibilities, which I proceeded to peruse with interest.

Let’s take them one at a time:

  1. If we don’t find a big outside the box idea, God will. And that big idea may play out outside of the box of the CRC (ie: he’ll let us die!)

OK, this is just a reiteration of the situation.  Something has to change, or the game is up.  Agreed.

Well this puts a lot of weight on the second thought.  Let’s hope for a game-changer.

  • 2. The CRC’s big idea must come from the centre of its core theology and be fully manifest in the pulpit. Theology and preaching are central to our identity. Surely God’s biggest idea for us would be borne out of and proclaimed from these places.

Here’s where the post came to a screeching halt for me.

Earlier Van Sloten had noted that there is an uptightness to the denomination — a need to control everything.  And it’s obvious this is not working.  One of the main ways I perceive that we are uptight and seek to control everything is regarding doctrine, or as he puts it, core theology, and it’s corollary, or how that doctrine/theology is often passed on:  preaching.  These are perhaps two of the hallmarks of our tradition.  But if things are dying and those are the hallmarks, perhaps its time for some new hallmarks.

I have a hard-time seeing this as a viable solution, or even a big idea.  To me, it comes across as more of the same.  Better grab the shovels.

Foreshadowing

I can think of recent events which are harbingers of what is to come:

1)  Two religion faculty members at Calvin College write some thought-provoking pieces about the challenge of reconciling Adam and Eve historically with the evidences of history, of literature, and perhaps most notably, scientific discoveries and the theory of evolution.

A quick taste of what they wrote:

One professor, Daniel Harlow, wrote that he was exploring from the perspective of mainstream biblical scholarship, which is that “Adam and Eve are strictly literary figures—characters in a divinely inspired story about the imagined past that intends to teach primarily theological, not historical, truths about God, creation, and humanity.”

Harlow also wrote, “Genesis 3, read in its immediate context, does not depict the man and woman’s transgression as an act that infected all subsequent humanity. . . . For teaching about the Fall and original sin, then, we must wait for Paul and the church fathers.”

The other professor, John Schneider, wrote that the traditional understanding of the Fall does not fit with current science: “[T]he narrative of human evolution makes it very hard, if not impossible, to maintain [the position that human and demonic creatures are responsible for evil]. For it seems, on this science, that not just natural evils . . . but also the disposition for human moral evils, are practically part of God’s original design.”

Exceptional pieces written about an issue which the church at large is going to have to deal with theologically as it moves forward.  And it should be clarified that these two were not making grand new theological assertions, but merely showing how traditional thinking has to be rethought in light of new understandings in science and biblical studies. But apparently some do not want to move forward, and it was decided that these two had to retract their efforts or find a new place of employment.

Why?  Because their scholarship didn’t toe the line at theological constructs developed over 500 years ago.

Now you’re wondering: Did I hear that right?  Academics forced to curb their research in religion and literature as it intersects with scientific developments, to stunt their own academic exploration in order to “submit” to theological doctrines developed during the lifetime of Galileo?  Yep.  Turns out that’s the route the college went, which is significant because Calvin is affiliated with the denomination we are discussing.  Rather than move forward, the message was loud and clear: let’s keep the engine in neutral, or maybe even pop it into reverse.

There are real theological issues the church must face here, and it’s time we act like adults and deal with them, as Peter Enns suggests, rather than sweep them under the rug.

2) A CRC pastor recently published a book about his own journey from faith to doubt.  His insights and experiences were welcome by many, but threatening to others.  He was encouraged to consider his options, and eventually felt he was better in a more progressive denomination. A few lamented his departure, many more were glad to be rid of such a troublemaker.

3) Part of the means of control in the denomination is expressed in what was formerly known as the “Form of Subscription.”  This was a statement dating back nearly 500 years that stated exactly what it is that we as a denomination believe doctrinally regarding God, Scripture and salvation, among other things.  (I know, hard to believe (no pun intended) that belief doesn’t shift or move forward in half a millennium.)

Recently (perhaps due to some of the above) it was suggested that this be updated. One crucial statement that many of us thought was a movement in the right direction was to note that the three doctrinal statements (Belgic Confession, Canons of Dort, and the Heidelberg Catechism) are historic expressions of the Reformed faith have shaped our theological heritage and will continue to guide us (.  A small move, but a move forward.  It seemed a logical way to put it, because they are historic documents, after all.  They state concerns that were of vital interest in the era they were written.  But we no longer live in that era.  There are concerns today that those documents don’t address.  There are ways of understanding Scripture and faith and Jesus that didn’t exist when those were written. Advancements in biblical scholarship, critical study, archaeology, language, comparative religions and in many other related fields have given us insights they never had.  Not to mention developments in science.

In any case, many were shocked at this way of framing these confessions (apparently they thought they were ahistorical, having fallen from the heavens into the Reformers’ hands).  And unsurprisingly this updated Form of Subscription was rejected in 2011 in favor of something adopted in 2012 that looked nearly identical to the one it was supposedly ‘updating.’

On to Something

These three issues, among others, make me think that perhaps, after all, Van Sloten is on to something.

But in a sideways sort of way.

What may need to change is a letting go of the obsession over doctrinal obsessions, yes, there is a core that should remain, but there are plenty of peripherals that are less and less compelling to many many people, and it seems to me that our insistence on maintaining our dogmatism will be our death knell, not our salvation.

Recently the writer Jim Palmer confessed:

“So, I went to seminary, learned Greek and Hebrew, and got my M.Div. I was a Senior Pastor for several years and delivered a gazillion sermons. The working theory was that what people needed most was good, accurate, correct information about God. The idea was, have good theology and everything else will work out. It didn’t quite happen that way. There were lots of people with good theology and no inner peace or freedom.”

In other words, lots of preaching and obsessing about correct theology only goes so far, and in many cases, not far at all.

The reasons for this are myriad, but chief among them is the growing sense among many that God himself isn’t as concerned with how to describe, dissect, and diagram himself (or herself) as many theologians have been.  There is a growing sense that Jesus was about helping bring wholeness and freedom, healing and reconciliation rather than a ‘new yoke’ comprised of medieval theological formulations to which all must now submit.  To put it simply, many people just don’t care about doctrinal fastidiousness, and are concerned about day to day practical realities, the kinds about which Jesus so often taught and focused on: a father who had two sons, a follower who had a dead father, a woman caught in adultery, a tax collector who wondered if restoration and a new way of life was possible.

Living into God’s Story

Some time earlier in a related discussion, James K.A. Smith noted that churches obsessing over theology can still succeed:

“I’m just pointing out that the missional success of unapologetically Reformed churches like Redeemer in NYC (and it’s whole network), or City Church in San Francisco, are testimony that “thickly” Reformed (AND catholic AND missional) churches can actually invite people into God’s story and not merely attracted disaffected, previously-churched people.”

At the time, I responded with:

I also agree with Smith that many Gen Xers and millenials are simply not interested in “relevant” worship or “contemporary” faith. Style and mode do matter at some level, but not nearly to the degree of the substance beneath.

As for Smith’s anecdotal evidence of ‘thickly’ Reformed churches, one could also give plenty of anecdotes of younger folks who have had it with ‘thick’ faith in a new package (see Driscoll or any young, restless, and Reformed types) and are interested in a more engaging, developing theology that *is* — as Smith notes — informed by the broad catholicity of the faith. But more than that, a faith that also has room for mystery, for realizing the limits of all theological perspectives (including, or perhaps especially, one’s own tradition), and is strongly interested in an incarnational, Christ-centered faith. Many are simply not interested in being forced into a theological or intellectual corner by having to ‘sign on’ for certain doctrines. This is where the rub is. They (and I) want to be informed by the historic confessions without being told: you MUST own every single piece of them, which is about as appealing as being told you MUST take that spoonful of cod liver oil because… wait, what were those reasons again? Never mind – we’ve always done it this way (it’s tradition!) – so open up and take it!

So many -across the generations- want, as Smith says, to live into *God’s* story more than they want to live into any single version of that story, because they realize God is beyond any single tradition. (And are simply tired of the hubris that says ‘ours is the best and truest’).

Smith went on to dismiss such efforts in living, thinking and working through the shifting theological ground that many are doing:

“Thomas Merton would have never been saved by “pub theology.” Or Pete Rollins. Or Rob Bell. Or Brian McClaren. Or much that has been touted as “updated” versions of the CRC.”

I responded as follows (and I quote at length as this was buried in the comments under an earlier post, but it articulates my concern with Smith’s dismissiveness):

As for Smith’s comment regarding Pub Theology. . . The point of pub theology, as far as I’m concerned, is not to be the latest ‘outreach’ effort or to mask as a new proselytizing fad. If pub theology is saving anyone, it is saving me. Saving me from the attitude that I’ve got it all figured out and no one else does. Saving me from an attitude that lets me live in my own little world with my own prejudices about different people, faiths, philosophies, or approaches to God. It saves me from dismissing someone out of hand when I haven’t heard their story. It saves me from an attitude that says, ‘I’ve arrived’. And I really like craft beer.

All the guys Smith has listed and summarily dismissed with a wave of his hand have informed my own faith journey in important ways. Its fine if he doesn’t like them, but the theological snobbery I perceive is exactly the sort of thing many of us would prefer to get away from. That attitude doesn’t further the conversation, in my opinion (understanding that this is a limited form of communication in which it is possible to read into things). I also fail to see the constant pejorative use of ‘liberal Protestant’ as being of much use. I just spent a week with mainliners from varying backgrounds (ELCA, PCUSA, UMC, etc) and was impressed at the ways many in these denominations are seeking to engage their communities for Christ in some good, healthy, and creative ways. Living within a historic theological tradition with flexibility and life. There may be things within those contexts that one does not like, but it is hardly a fate to be avoided at all costs. (And from whom we could even learn a few things).

My own desire is to be centered on following Jesus in how I actually live my life (though it is a constant struggle). I want a faith at which Christ is the center from which I operate, and the goal toward which I strive. I’m frankly not that interested in worrying about how big (or small) the theological circle is within which I operate. I want to be informed by the creeds and confessions (and have and continue to be shaped by them), but I am less interested in being forced to stand or fall on them. For our faith to have weight and depth – it must engage these important parts of our tradition. But for it to live and move and breathe – it must not be encumbered or chained to the ground by them. I am interested in inviting people into the center. The theological edges are frankly not that important to me, and I think a healthy agnosticism toward some doctrines that the confessions lay out dogmatically would be a healthier (and perhaps more biblical) approach.

So what’s the big idea?

Perhaps it is this: that we learn to let go of our certainties, stop trying to railroad people into believing things they have genuine questions about, and be open to re-articulations of the faith that resonate with and reflect the concerns and issues of today.  How?  Well, as Van Sloten notes, the pulpit isn’t a bad place to begin.  Having preachers willing to be open about the challenges present in the text, to be honest about their own struggles and faith life, to exhort us to live into and live out the grace Jesus embodies and be less concerned about getting more sheep to ‘sign on the dotted line.’  Preaching that doesn’t cause us to reconsider, reflect, struggle, learn, and reformulate might just be preaching to the choir.

But it must go beyond the preacher. We must embrace grassroots efforts like Pub Theology, in which open conversation is the goal, preaching is set aside in favor of listening, and a setting is created in which all are welcome to the table without having to pass a litmus test of belief or behavior.  If we want to engage our communities on spiritual topics, we cannot expect to sit back and watch people show up at our worship gatherings.  We must be present in places where people already are, and drop our agendas of evangelizing everyone we meet — in our circles we don’t bring people to Jesus so much as to Reformed theology.  If we want to learn how to hold our faith amid the growing pluralism of our day, settings like this will get us started.  (Not to mention that a sure-fire way to ensure our further irrelevance will be to circle the wagons and congratulate ourselves on our unique theology.)

We could promote small group curriculum like “Living the Questions” or “Animate» Faith,” get serious about studying the Bible filtered less by preconceived doctrinal grids and informed more by serious scholarship and study that brings new light to old texts.

And finally, we must seek to find ways to bring the hope of the kingdom of God to our communities in tangible ways. I’m heartened by the many, many ways I see this happening throughout our denomination, and I think these signs of life are already present in growing ways.

Surely there are more big ideas out there (Add yours below!).  But these things may be a start.

In the end we can take heart, because the universe has existed for about 14 billion years, and the CRC has only existed for about 0.0001107% of that time.

The world will get on fine without us.

‘Spiritual but not religious’: A Response

Mind open, mind closed.

The real reason ‘spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out
A guest post by Robert Kroese

Robert Kroese is the author of Mercury Falls, Mercury Rises, and many other engaging apocalyptic adventures!  This post was originally published on his blog at robertkroese.com, and was a thoughtful response to Alan Miller’s post.


Recently I ran across a blog post with the title My Take: “I’m spiritual but not religious” is a cop-out. I read the post with interest because I’ve often thought this very thing: that claiming to be “spiritual” isn’t an answer to a question about one’s religious beliefs, but rather a way to avoid the question while sounding like one has put some thought into it.

Sadly, the post almost immediately devolves into unverifiable, baseless generalizations. For example:

Those in the spiritual-but-not-religious camp are peddling the notion that by being independent – by choosing an “individual relationship” to some concept of “higher power”, energy, oneness or something-or-other – they are in a deeper, more profound relationship than one that is coerced via a large institution like a church.

Whoa, what now? That’s a bold statement. And it doesn’t appear at the end of a chain of rigorous reasoning or citation of studies about beliefs; it’s just thrown out there, as if it’s a brute fact of reality. The author follows this up with all manner of other vague and unsupported statements, somehow managing in an 800-word blog post to attack moral relativism, a culture centered on “feelings,” and megachurches — and going on to defend “old fashioned” values and the King James Bible (which has done all right for 400 years without his support, thank you very much).

Hidden in that rhetorical avalanche are two short paragraphs that I think actually come close to dealing with the matter at hand:

The trouble is that “spiritual but not religious” offers no positive exposition or understanding or explanation of a body of belief or set of principles of any kind.

What is it, this “spiritual” identity as such? What is practiced? What is believed?

The problem, as these paragraphs indicate, isn’t that “spiritual but not religious” is a bad answer to the question “what are your religious beliefs?” (as Miller seems to argue in the rest of the post) but rather that it’s a non-answer.

Imagine a group of plane crash survivors stranded on an island, debating the best way to get off the island. Some argue that the best way is to build a signal fire. Others argue that they should try to build a raft. Still others say that trying to get off the island is a waste of time; that they should focus their efforts on basic survival. Finally one person pipes up with, “Well, I don’t agree with any of you, but I definitely think we’re on an island.”

The man isn’t wrong, but his answer doesn’t get them anywhere. It doesn’t add anything to the discussion. It’s just an acknowledgement of the predicament. And worse, it’s an answer that seems calculated to put the speaker above or outside of the arena of discussion: “Have your petty disagreements amongst yourself; meanwhile I will sit here and contemplate the ocean surrounding us.”

Let me clarify that I’m not saying that the “spiritual but not religious” person is being intentionally smug or provocative, but that this is how is answer is going to be received by people who have been pulling their hair out trying to figure out a way off the island. It could be that he has already considered and rejected as wanting all possible attempts to get off the island and possesses some knowledge about the island that the other survivors aren’t privy to. But if so, then he’s doing a disservice to the other survivors by not sharing his knowledge. And if not, then he’s just wasting their time by pointing out the obvious.

The “spiritual but not religious” label points to three possibilities, as far as I can see:

1. The person has done a thorough study of the world’s religions, found them wanting, and took a different path.

2. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs but has been blessed with a mystical understanding that allows him or her to see the shortcomings of any “man-made” religion, and took a different path.

3. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs, has no real wisdom to offer, and is parroting an answer that he or she has heard various celebrities use in interviews with some success.

Without lapsing into pure cynicism, I’ll point out that (1) requires a lot of work, and (2) requires that the person be able to see a reality that is evidently hidden to most of the world’s traditional religious believers, whereas (3) requires only pure ignorance, which is in bountiful supply on this planet.

Of course, answering a question about religious beliefs by saying “I’m a Baptist,” “I’m Jewish,” or “I’m an atheist,” isn’t any more inherently difficult than saying “I’m spiritual but not religious.” In other words, there are lazy and ignorant Baptists, Jews and atheists as well as lazy and ignorant “spiritual-but-not-religious” people. Some Baptists have thought long and hard about what they believe and why. Others are just parroting answers they learned in Sunday school. But to their credit, at least they are answering the question.

Further, it seems odd to me that “spiritual but not religious” is such a common answer to the question about one’s religious beliefs. If you really want me to believe that you’ve made a deliberate choice to walk the road less traveled, then you might try giving a different answer to a question about your religious beliefs than that given by, say, Lady Gaga. Otherwise, aren’t you just a Gagaist? What’s the difference between you and every other “spiritual but not religious” person? If there is a difference, then tell me what it is. If there isn’t, then you’re just a member of another vaguely defined religion.

If you are asked about your religious and you don’t really have any religious beliefs, I suggest saying, “I don’t really have any religious beliefs.” If you have some vague belief that people have souls and that there are bad consequences to immoral behavior, say that. If you think that we’re all part of the Great Mystical Oneness, then say that. Saying that you’re “spiritual” doesn’t communicate anything. And saying that you’re “not religious” only communicates that while you may not know what the answer is, you suspect that most of the answers other people have come up with are wrong, or at least deficient.

You might have some really interesting thoughts about God, souls, sin, redemption, justice, forgiveness, love, purpose and oneness. But if you start out by saying that you’re “spiritual but not religious,” I’m going to seriously doubt it.

This post reflects the views of its author.

‘Spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out

“I’m meditating, dude!”

By Alan Miller, originally posted on CNN’s belief blog.

Note: Alan Miller is Director ofThe New York Salon and Co-Founder of London’s Old Truman Brewery. He is speaking at The Battle of Ideas at London’s Barbican in October.

By Alan Miller, guest post

The increasingly common refrain that “I’m spiritual, but not religious,” represents some of the most retrogressive aspects of contemporary society. The spiritual but not religious “movement” – an inappropriate term as that would suggest some collective, organizational aspect – highlights the implosion of belief that has struck at the heart of Western society.

Spiritual but not religious people are especially prevalent in the younger population in the United States, although a recent study has argued that it is not so much that people have stopped believing in God, but rather have drifted from formal institutions.

It seems that just being a part of a religious institution is nowadays associated negatively, with everything from the Religious Right to child abuse, back to the Crusades and of course with terrorism today.

Those in the spiritual-but-not-religious camp are peddling the notion that by being independent – by choosing an “individual relationship” to some concept of “higher power”, energy, oneness or something-or-other – they are in a deeper, more profound relationship than one that is coerced via a large institution like a church.

That attitude fits with the message we are receiving more and more that “feeling” something somehow is more pure and perhaps, more “true” than having to fit in with the doctrine, practices, rules and observations of a formal institution that are handed down to us.

The trouble is that “spiritual but not religious” offers no positive exposition or understanding or explanation of a body of belief or set of principles of any kind.

What is it, this “spiritual” identity as such? What is practiced? What is believed?

The accusation is often leveled that such questions betray a rigidity of outlook, all a tad doctrinaire and rather old-fashioned.

But when the contemporary fashion is for an abundance of relativist “truths” and what appears to be in the ascendancy is how one “feels” and even governments aim to have a “happiness agenda,” desperate to fill a gap at the heart of civic society, then being old-fashioned may not be such a terrible accusation.

It is within the context of today’s anti-big, anti-discipline, anti-challenging climate – in combination with a therapeutic turn in which everything can be resolved through addressing my inner existential being – that the spiritual but not religious outlook has flourished.

The boom in megachurches merely reflect this sidelining of serious religious study for networking, drop-in centers and positive feelings.

Those that identify themselves, in our multi-cultural, hyphenated-American world often go for a smorgasbord of pick-and-mix choices.

A bit of Yoga here, a Zen idea there, a quote from Taoism and a Kabbalah class, a bit of Sufism and maybe some Feing Shui but not generally a reading and appreciation of The Bhagavad Gita, the Karma Sutra or the Qur’an, let alone The Old or New Testament.

So what, one may ask?

Christianity has been interwoven and seminal in Western history and culture. As Harold Bloom pointed out in his book on the King James Bible, everything from the visual arts, to Bach and our canon of literature generally would not be possible without this enormously important work.

Indeed, it was through the desire to know and read the Bible that reading became a reality for the masses – an entirely radical moment that had enormous consequences for humanity.

Moreover, the spiritual but not religious reflect the “me” generation of self-obsessed, truth-is-whatever-you-feel-it-to-be thinking, where big, historic, demanding institutions that have expectations about behavior, attitudes and observance and rules are jettisoned yet nothing positive is put in replacement.

The idea of sin has always been accompanied by the sense of what one could do to improve oneself and impact the world.

Yet the spiritual-but-not-religious outlook sees the human as one that simply wants to experience “nice things” and “feel better.” There is little of transformation here and nothing that points to any kind of project that can inspire or transform us.

At the heart of the spiritual but not religious attitude is an unwillingness to take a real position. Influenced by the contribution of modern science, there is a reluctance to advocate a literalist translation of the world.

But these people will not abandon their affiliation to the sense that there is “something out there,” so they do not go along with a rationalist and materialistic explanation of the world, in which humans are responsible to themselves and one another for their actions – and for the future.

Theirs is a world of fence-sitting, not-knowingess, but not-trying-ness either. Take a stand, I say. Which one is it? A belief in God and Scripture or a commitment to the Enlightenment ideal of human-based knowledge, reason and action? Being spiritual but not religious avoids having to think too hard about having to decide.

The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Alan Miller.

What I meant to say…

“What the text says now matters more than what the author meant to say…”
– Paul Ricouer

“Really?” you might ask.

I think most of us have a hard time believing that.  How could anyone make such a statement?

Surely the most important thing is what the author meant to say when he wrote it.  I tweeted this quote recently and someone responded in such a fashion.  The meaning then is more important than the meaning now.  I am inclined to agree.  As a student of the New Testament (and the Hebrew Scriptures), and someone who preaches, I spend a lot of time working hard to understand what a text meant when it was originally written, in other words, ‘what the author meant to say’.

My assumption is that the more I can understand the original intention, the better job I’ll do of being true to that text. So from this perspective, what the text originally meant seems to be the most important thing!  Upon first glance then, Ricouer, a French philosopher of language, appears clearly wrong.

But here arises the challenge of understanding what the original intent actually was. We don’t always get this exactly right, do we?  Someone says something, and we want to know what they intended to mean.  In reality, this isn’t always accomplished even in everyday life, in face-to-face conversation.  We want to be understood, and get incredibly frustrated when we are not:

Didn’t you say…?

“But I meant to say…”

“You misunderstood me!”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

One of the worst things possible is being misunderstood.

Yet if it can happen to us today, in face-to-face direct speech acts, how much more might the written word— indirect speech—be misunderstood?  And even further, the written word from a different language and culture by an author who is now centuries and even millennia dead.

(Of course this is where, in an act of faith, one might trust that the Holy Spirit will step in and say, “What I meant to say was…”!)  But for the purposes of this post, let’s leave that component to the side for the time being.  (Invoking the Spirit is necessary, but can often be an easy out in place of the hard work I believe God calls us to do in understanding the text).

Since misunderstandings can (and do!) happen, it seems that our best recourse is to disagree with Ricouer, and assume the original meaning as intended by the author is the most important.  After all, why would we spend all the time we do trying to understand this meaning if it were not the case?  In fact, it seems such an open and shut case, that perhaps we should be done with it.

But… yet…  perhaps…

Importance of the Now

Back to the original provocative statement:
“What the text says now matters more than what the author meant to say…”

We noted earlier that it seems almost intuitively obvious that this statement is wrong.

Yet I wonder… perhaps there is something to this after all.

I wonder, if our interpretation, our attempts at recovering what the author meant to say and thus declaring what in fact the text said and says, is, in fact, more important.  Think of it this way:  When a preacher preaches on any given text, and supplies it with meaning —that is the meaning the listeners take away.  When a person reads a verse with their morning coffee and senses, “What I just read means [this] to me”—that is the meaning this person is taking away.  In this sense, I think Ricouer is right.  What the text says now is more important than what the author meant to say.  In fact, this has to be the case.  Think about it.  What the text says now is all we have.  The author is dead.  The Apostle Paul cannot rise up when we read a selection from 1 Corinthians and say, “But what I meant to say was…!”  (Though we surely wish he would!)  What we have is our understanding of the text now.  What we have is what the preacher interprets the text to mean.  What we have is what we ourselves take a text to mean anytime we read the Bible.  That is what we have.  That is the meaning of the text here and now—and it is that meaning, not the original meaning, that goes on to have impact and live into the world.

Now don’t misunderstand me.  I am not saying that what the author meant to say is irrelevant or unimportant.  Hardly!  It is crucial.  And we must work hard to attempt to recover that meaning in any reading and work of interpreting.  But the facts are that we can’t sit down with the writer of Matthew when we open that Gospel and make sure we ‘get it’.  It’s impossible.  We can’t sit down with The Teacher when we read Ecclesiastes to make sure he was as skeptical as he seems.  We can’t dissect a Psalm and have David back up our interpretation.

In that sense—a perfect recovery of what any given author meant (of a text in the Bible or any other text)—is impossible.  The meaning we supply to the text is the meaning we have.  That’s it!  That’s the meaning that lives in the world today.  And the meaning that lives in the world at any given moment is the more important meaning—that is the meaning that causes people to act in certain ways, to believe certain things, to commit themselves to a certain path. We simply don’t have the original meaning in full.  What the text says now is more important, as Ricouer so daringly ventured.

And this actually squares with a Reformed understanding of preaching.  There’s a classic statement that says, “The preaching of the Word of God is the Word of God.” (As stated in the Second Helvetic Confession.)  I always thought this was a bit presumptuous, and laid too much emphasis on the role of the preacher.  Yet, in light of Ricouer’s analysis, I think there is a  lot of merit to this approach.  When the community gathers, and the Word comes forth, and that Word is explicated, interpreted, delivered: we all have some sense that something sacred is happening, that God is engaging us, indeed, that God is speaking.

Consider Calvin:
“When a man has climbed up into the pulpit… it is [so] that God may speak to us by the mouth of a man.”

Or Luther:
“Tis a right excellent thing, that every honest pastor’s and preacher’s mouth is Christ’s mouth…”

Invisible Readers

Ricouer notes that through writing, “discourse escapes the limits of being face to face. It no longer has a visible auditor.  An unknown, invisible reader has become the unprivileged addressee of the discourse.”

In other words, at one time, the text belonged to the writer—he wrote it down, and he shared it with people, and could inevitably correct misunderstandings if they engaged the writing in person.  But once the work becomes widespread – such corrections vis a vis a face-to-face encounter with the writer, becomes less and less possible.  And once the author dies, impossible.  The text will reach readers that were invisible to the author, indeed, readers who did not yet exist.

Merold Westphal says it is this invisibility that gives the text an autonomy, an independence from authorial intention. This is known in interpretive circles as “the death of the author.” The absolute author (the one who knows what he or she meant to say) is not replaced by an absolute reader, but by one whose authority is limited, relative to a particular context, and without the presence of the author.

You and I are such readers when it comes to any ancient text (or even reading Steinbeck or Updike).

But here our interpretive journey takes another turn.

Perhaps the author him- or herself is not in full possession of the meaning of what they have written.  Perhaps more is being said than even the author was intending!

Merold Westphal notes that “not even the author is in full possession of the whole that would give fully final and determinate meaning.”

In other words, perhaps what the author intended isn’t the whole of its meaning. (I would say this is particularly the case when it comes to Scripture.)

Nick Wolterstorff gives an example of this possibility of a multiplicity of meanings:

At dinner Mom says, “Only two more days till Christmas.”  To her young children, who think that Christmas will never come, her speech act is a word of comfort and hope.  But to her husband “she may have said, in a rather arch and allusive way, that he must stop delaying and get his shopping done.  One locutionary act [vocal utterance], several illocutionary acts [words of comfort and hope, words of warning, even command], different ones for different addressees.”

Wolterstorff shows how a single utterance can have different meanings for different hearers, and they can each be right!

Merold Westphal notes that as Wolterstorff tells the story, Mom is the godlike author whose words have just the meanings she put into them.  They mean different things to different hearers so that the meaning of her discourse is a plurality of different meanings.  In godlike sovereignty she knows all the hearers and controls the meaning each receives.

Westphal then proposes:

But suppose they weren’t all at dinner and Mom didn’t know that Dad was in a position to overhear her.  Dad would rightly take Mom’s speech act to be one of reminder, warning, and perhaps even command, though that was not the meaning she (intended to) put into her discourse.  The meaning of the utterance escapes the horizon of its author and its original, intended audience precisely because of the invisibility of at least one additional audience.  This is the situation of human authors in general, says Westphal, biblical or otherwise.

By now you’re incredibly uncomfortable with this analysis.  You’re resisting this approach.  You’re thinking that preachers and scholars are in an awfully important (and scary) position – because they most often are entrusted with helping us understand the text.

This is true.  Yet in a sense we all are in this position, we are the invisible readers, at least those of us who read and engage texts (of any sort), especially the Bible.

But fortunately, there is more to it.  We’ll get to this in the next post.

Harmony Brewing Co – this Thursday!

This Thursday, I am excited to facilitate a Pub Theology session at Harmony Brewing Company in Eastown, Grand Rapids.  Harmony Brewing is at 1551 Lake Drive SE in GR.  They’re a great new(er) brewery in Grand Rapids and I can’t wait to check out what they’ve got on tap.  Looks like they’ve got some really cool things going on.

We’ll get things started around 8pm.  Join us for some good conversation over a good pint!

UPDATE: We will also be back on October 4 and 11, and possibly a few more!

Check out some pics from Harmony below:

Some tasty brews.
Black Squirrel University: Drink Beer. Listen. Discuss. (I like it!)
I’ll have one of those.

Come on out and join us, this Thursday at 8pm!  Get your signed copy of Pub Theology, and check out this cool new brewery!

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