Category: Book Reviews

  • Hans Kung: On Still Being a Christian 2 A Modern Day Luther?

    Ffdc_2 I remember reading Kung’s On Being a Christian, while lying on a beach on Tiree the jewel of the Outer Hebrides, (along with Colonsay) and for years after, if I thumped it on my desk I could still find the odd grain of silver-white sand. My copy is the no nonsense Collins first edition, no pictures or other marketing gimmicks, just the author’s name in bold black, the title in near luminous orange, and a sombre grey background which both highlights the text and yet succeeds in being understated.
    The book was both a revelation and an intellectually and theologically formative blessing to me; and for several reasons. 


    Ever since, I’ve been fascinated by this angular, formidably intelligent, Catholic priest-theologian’s combination of courage for truth and calm confidence in his sense of what lies at the core of the Gospel. Not for nothing did Third Way, in its earliest days, review On Being a Christian, and ask the question whether Kung was a modern day Luther. After all, Kung’s published doctoral thesis was on the theology of justification, a critically appreciative conversation on the subject as massively articulated by Karl Barth. Another book set a tiger loose in the Vatican pigeon lofts. It was entitled Infallible?, the question mark in the title being the most important typing character in the entire book. His book The Church was deeply informed by his previous thought on reforming the church and the ministry, by his experiences at Vatican II, it was rooted in the biblical text, and demonstrated thorough control of historical and critical questions within the tradition. No wonder the Vatican moved from defensive uneasiness to a more assertive and then offensive collision course. (The reasons why that collision was all but inevitable I’ll deal with in a later post.)


    But second, On Being a Christian was, and remains, one of the most intellectually forceful yet readable expositions of what it means to be Christian in the modern world. Theological snobs might want to suggest that it was too hard, erudite, long, multi-disciplinary, to be accessible to the theologically untrained. Tell that to the publishers who revelled in a volume of serious and engaged theological scholarship up there on the bestseller lists. I remember remaindered copies of the British Fontana Paperback Edition being sold off some years later at a Baptist Assembly for £1, encouraged by the then General Secretary Rev Dr Andrew MacRae!


    And again. Brought up in Lanarkshire and converted into West of Scotland Baptist Evangelicalism of a pronounced 1960’s Protestant flavour, my limited knowledge of Roman Catholic theology, popular piety and official teaching didn’t prepare me for such a book as this, written by a Catholic for whom the word Roman was historically conditioned, while the word Catholic was of the essence of the Church. He seriously qualified papal authority, he held strongly to the doctrine of justification, he took seriously the contemporary search for transcendence and meaning within and beyond the church in the 1970’s (and since), his starting point was the biblical witness to Jesus crucified and risen, he was deeply suspicious of exaggerated claims for Mary, in particular the dogmatic pronouncements about immaculate conception and assumption. In other words this was a different kind of Catholicism.


    Oh there was much then, and there remains much in Kung’s faith as a Roman Catholic on which he and I starkly differ; and his conclusions drawn from an uncritical use of historical criticism are at times way to the left of my own positions. But his commitment to the Gospel of Jesus, his search for ways of expressing faith in Jesus in a way that is liveable, accessible and faithful, is everywhere evident. His courage in taking on imposed dogmatic and ecclesial pronouncements, and his sheer intellectual grasp of the contemporary nexus of history, culture, theology and philosophy, make him, for me at least, essential reading if I am to understand better, the globalised world, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Church as witnessing community, and these three in their conversations and collisions.

  • Hans Kung: On Still Being a Christian 1 A life of expanding concentric circles

    Hans Kung, Disputed Truth. Memoirs II, (Continuum: New York, 2008)


    41eSkwEHMjL._SL500_AA240_ This is the first of several posts on a volume that reads like a novel. It has characterisation, plot, the tension of narrative development, delayed resolution, and the reader drawn in to care about the outcome, how the story ends. In fact the Australian ex Jesuit novelist Morris West, at the climax of Kung’s conflict with the Vatican in 1979-80, visited Kung and offered to write a novel about his story; and as the author of The Shoes of the Fisherman he could have done an intriguingly good job.  Indeed at the height of the Cold War Star Wars  tensions in the mid 1980’s,  West did write The Clowns of God, about a charismatic Pope, and a Tubingen theologian whose thought and character do resemble  Hans Kung.  But this volume latest volume of Memoirs is undiluted Kung – lucidly critical theologian,  historical analyst of his own tradition, self-apologist, and on my reading relentlessly loyal Catholic priest, so long as his loyalty is to be given to the Church as the people of God, rather than the Church as the hierarchical power structures of an ecclesial institution which in his view is teflon coated against necessary reform.


    One of the Free Church of Scotland’s greatest preachers and writers, Alexander Whyte, 100 years and entire Christian traditions removed from Kung, once urged students to get themselves ‘into a relation of indebtedness with some of the great thinkers of the past and present’, as a way of guarding against spiritual and theological tunnel vision, as a commitment to pastoral and theological breadth of understanding, and as an exercise in intellectual humility which guards against any of us setting ourselves up as our own pope!. He was criticised by some in his own communion who never quite understood the ecumenical and catholic spirit of ‘the hospitable hearted evangelical’. He had a meeting with John Henry Newman, his Appreciation of Santa Teresa was read in monastic communities at lectio divina at lunch, he read speculative mystics, doctrinal puritans, deep-dyed Scottish Calvinists, and tasted from most of the other tributaries that flow from distant Christian foothills into the broad stream of Christian tradition. Years ago I took his advice – and amongst those with whom I have a relation of indebtedness is Hans Kung – along with a bunch of others just about as varied as Whyte.


    So having read the first volume of the Kung’s memoirs last year, (My Struggle for Freedom) I have been anticipating the next volume, and like many others, wondering what he would write about his relationship to Pope Benedict, formerly Cardinal Ratzinger, along with John Paul II, easily the single most ecclesially powerful theological opponent Kung has encountered. Ratzinger’s role as the Vatican’s doctrinal enforcer was always going to make Kung’s memoir potentially explosive. In fact Kung is so meticulous about context, perspective, exposition of issues and standpoints, that this volume only comes up to 1980, which clearly omits some of the most significant developments in the Catholic Church and in the life and mature thought of Kung himself. So a third volume is to come, God willing; as Kung reminds us he is now in his ninth decade – can he really be? I must be getting on myself!


    Having started on this book, I think little else will get in the way till it’s finished. As his own Apologia Pro Vita Sua, Kung confesses:


    As a Catholic Christian and theologian with an evangelical disposition I wanted to put myself at the service of men and women inside and outside the catholic Church and…by human confusion and divine providence – was liberated and impelled to engage intensively in the increasingly important issues of world society. Without ever giving up my roots in the Christian faith, I embarked on a life of expanding concentric circles; the unity of the churches, peace among the religions, the community of nations. (Disputed Truth, pages 1-2)


    It is, as far as I can judge, a deeply Christian, humane and prophetic goal worthy of his best thought and truest devotion – to Christ and church.

  • The unpopular idea of submission 2. Christ’s submission and the identity of God

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    The idea of kenosis as a portrayal of self-emptying love has always seemed to me both theologically attractive and  pastorally promising. Theologically attractive because without prying unsubtly into the mysteries of eternal intra-trinitarian purposefulness, and while avoiding inappropriate precision in calibrating the relations between divine love and sovereignty, a kenotic Christology, for all its difficulties as a comprehensive theory, does acknowledge something definintive in the statement God is love, when that statement is made of the Word become flesh, crucified and risen. Pastorally promising because the story of salvation as it is told in the most significant textual locus for kenotic Christology in the NT, Philippians 2. 6-11, is a story which affirms both the identity of the God who comes to us in the humiliation of Christ, and the identity ofthe Christian community as one modelled on the reality of who Christ is, and what is therefore true about God.Self emptying love is thus definitive of Christian existence together, and in ethical demand and spiritually transformative practice, impels Christian community towards life at the radical edge of risky, costly love for the other.

    In one stunning passage, the sanctified speculative imagination of Paul seems to have overcome the no less sanctified reverent restraint of one who fully recognised the limits of human thought; limits imposed not only by inadequacy of thought, but also by ineffability of subject. Yet here in this passage Paul states in a rhythmic prose poem what he conceived to be the all consuming, self-emptying motive of the One who though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a right to be clung to – but emptied himself.

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    Now I know there are all kinds of critical and textual arguments about what Philippians 2.6-11 is about. And in this book on submission within the Godhead and the Church,the writer gives them a good hearing. But I do find her conclusion about the nature and purpose of this passage persuasive. Is it a hymn, and if so pre Pauline? No to both – Paul was quite capable of writing exalted prose, and there is no decisive evidence of other non- NT 'early hymns' in form, content or known usage such as this passage. Is it a passage explained as a contrasting parallel between Adam, who snatched at equality with God and Christ who became obedient unto death? Yes, but only if this argument isn't used to exclude the idea of Christ's pre-existence, which Dunn doubts, but Wright affirms, though both see Adam Christology as at least part of the explanation of the passage. Is it telling the story of salvation, a kerygmatic pronouncement (Martin) or is it a call to imitation of Christ (Fowl). In fact it is both argues Park – the passage proclaims the salvation story, but to pastoral and ethical purpose.

    However the submission of Christ as depicted in Philippians 2.6-11 gives rise to a number of complex theological considerations. No one explanation exhausts the implications of this passage. There are strong textual  connections with Isaiah 45 where submission to the sovereign God is the attitude that wins divine approval. Christ's actions in emptying himself and taking the form of a servant, and becoming obedient to death on the cross have significance both as descriptions of the saving efficacy of his humiliation and as exemplary demonstrations of an ethic of submissive obedience to God and others as characteristic of God's salvific action in Christ. The exaltation of Christ is not the reward for humiliation, but the confirmation that 'his humiliation belongs to the identity of God as surely as his exaltation does.' (R Bauckham, God Crucified (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1996), p. 61.

    The revelation of God in Christ, conveyed through divine movements as depicted in this theologically unsettling passage, is of One for whom submission is not so much a precondition of exaltation, a necessary adjustment of sovereignty, but is an essential expression of divine identity and the characteristic modus operandi of divine love acting with redemptive purpose. God's approval of Jesus, bestowing on him the name which is above every name, is an announcement against grasping at status, clinging to privilege and right, selfish ambition and attraction to power. "Therefore God has highly exalted him….". The 'therefore' is a crucial theological hinge. 'He humbled himself and became obedient…….therefore…..'. This brief passage, with that eternally consequential inference has profound implications for how we think of God, how we understand the dynamics of the community of the church, and how we view submission as not only one amongst many Christian virtues, but as having the mind that was also in Christ Jesus, and points to the mind of God.

    I'm not attributing all the above to this fascinating book – except that reading it, engaging with its careful arguments, pushes me into such reflection.

  • The Unpopular Idea of Submission 1. Is submission irredeemably coercive?

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    There is something disconcerting about a book that addresses submission as a theological category, not only so, but which seeks to rehabilitate the notion that self-surrender need not imply defeat, diminishment or inferiority, but may be a creative act of willed love. That said, ideas of submission are inherently suspect, for example in feminist theology, being contaminated by perceived patriarchal and authoritarian assumptions. Likewise postmodern rejection of the normativity of traditional readings of texts, expresses a powerfully antithetical resistance to the assumed dominance of such traditional interpretations; such truth claims have no inherent right either to require the submission of other minds or to negate other legitimate construals of truth.

    This book sets out to explore whether submission is irredeemably locked into hierarchical sturctures and behaviour patterns. Semantically, is it the case that the term "submission" is irretrievably oppressive, coercive and indicative of a person's inferiority? Theologically, is hierarchy ruled out in any construal of the life of the Triune God that seeks to conceive of that life in relational terms? And even if it is, what of the concept of mutual submission within consensual parameters of love and being? Ethically and spiritually, in Christian existence, is it not the case that submission to the Gospel indicates that deep inner transormation of the self that discovers in obedience a radical and original freedom? Politically – and that means in social, economic and personal relations, is it not the case that the primary claim upon Christian inwardness is not the language of rights but the language of grace?

    Questions like these open up wider questions of equality, freedom, mutuality – and also authority, power and hierarchy. Approached through the lens of a New Testament text such as Philippians, the concept of submission compels reflection on urgent contemporary issues of gender relations, Trinitarian theology, Christological models and the interpersonal dynamic of Christian community. Even early in my reading of this book I am aware of my own inner egalitarian prejudices. I genuinely hold to the deep conviction that the Christian mind, heart and will rightly, and only, recognise one absolute claim on their submission. And that is to Jesus as Lord – whose Lordship, authority and claim derive their power from the soul's encounter through the Spirit, with grace unspeakable and love crucified as encountered in the Risen Jesus, gift of the Father. So if I am to be persuaded by this book's title, that there is submission within the Godhead, and that submission is a defining characteristic of Christian community, then (for me, at least) these principles must grow out of an exegetical and reflective theology shaped and given content by attention to primary NT text, by creative Trinitarian reflection and by a Christological hermeneutic applied to Christian community.

    The next post on this book will review chapter 1 – on Philippians 2.5-11.   ?

  • Discipleship as surrender to grace – and sacrifice

    ‘Discipleship Courses’ as a programmatic approach to Christian nurture and catechesis would not have commended themselves to Bonhoeffer, and for deeply theological reasons which are embedded in a theology of grace. Paul, Luther and Kierkegaard all inform Bonhoeffer’s rigorous understanding of discipleship as a costly, self-sacrificing  and life threatening following after Jesus. ‘I am crucified with Christ – I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me.’

    For Luther too, discipleship is not self conscious training in obedience, however useful and pragmatic that might seem – discipleship is surrender to the grace that invades to the very core of human being. So Bonhoeffer is characteristically uncompromising, ‘With the very first step, the substance of the Gospels requires an action that affects the whole of life’. Kierkegaard’s warning also provides Bonhoeffer with a strong conception of discipleship that is essentially and vitally lived as a theology of grace: ‘Not "disipleship", but "grace" is the place to begin; and then discipleship is to follow as a fruit of gratitude to the best of one’s ability’. And Kierkegaard, that most enigmatic writer skilled in paradox, knew perfectly well that the best of one’s ability is also dependent on the grace that enables.

    So for Bonhoeffer grace through faith, and faith as divinely given instrument, makes true discipleship possible. ‘Only he who believes is obedient, and only he who is obedient is a believer….Discipleship is a bond with the suffering Christ’ . For Bonhoeffer a programmatic approach to Christian training that uses the term ‘discipleship’ is in danger of trivialising the passion and suffering that gives discipleship its essential Christlike appearance and Christ-centred focus. ‘Whoever wishes to carry in his person the transfigured image of Jesus must already have carried in the world the battered image of the One who was Crucified.’ 

  • Bonhoeffer; personal identity and spiritual intensity

    Sd1 What I like about Sabine Dramm’s book on Bonhoeffer

    1. It is written by one who is familiar with both the theological amd philosophical subtleties, and the social and political commitments, that give Bonhoeffer’s theology and ethics their radical edge and uncomfortable diagnostic accuracy
    2. It is neither hagiography nor deconstruction, but a genuine engagement with the complexity of the man, the fragmentary nature of his writing, the large corpus of occasional and personal material, the air of menace and ominous probability that fell over Europe – and out of this nexus of varied perspectives she allows Bonhoeffer to emerge as a theologian who resists domestication
    3. The writing itself is theologically sharp and unafraid of necessary critical comment, at times Dramm is lyrical in exposition of Bonhoeffer’s key themes yet as translator rather than apologist for his ideas
    4. The book is structured in a way that covers biography, context, theological emphases, major written corpus, political and theological ethics in the context of his life, issues of continuing significance for the Church. But these are not sections of the book so much as threads woevn in and out of an overall pattern that is allowed to emerge from these given materials
    5. The book is rich in quotation from Bonhoeffer, but as aids to exposition rather than examples of cherry-picking enthusiasm, which explains the unusually high incidence of quotations not previously anthologised or decontextualised in the service of those who want Bonhoeffer to say certain things!
    6. Obvious affection for Bonhoeffer is all but absent, and instead an informed respect for the life of mind and conscience that shaped Bonhoeffer’s spirituality and impelled his sense of responsible freedom out into the world of politics and social consequence – obedience to Christ and live with the consequences is a breathtaking theological ethic, and it is used to explain the complicated sanctity of this least other-worldly of disciples.

    These are some of the things that make this book, for me at least, a clearer window into the radical, risk-taking consequences of one man’s commitment, in a dangerous world, to Jesus Christ as the centre and goal of all things.

    A couple of later posts will interact with one or two of what I consider the most interesting chapters in an overall valuable book.

  • Bonhoeffer: Divine Love, Fragmented Existence, Human Identity

    418o7xlyol__sl500_aa240_ Long before ‘authentic existence’ became the buzz words of mid 20th Cenutry existentialism, Bonhoeffer was working out the relationship between personal identity, inner thought, life commitments and moral actions. More than most theologians, Bonhoeffer demonstrates the vital and vitalising link between biography and theology. In few people is there such unambiguous and documented evidence of the connectedness of thought and life, of faith and action, of life commitments and the life that flowed from them. As Dramm comments, ‘[Bonhoefer’s] theo-logically centered life is inseparable from his life-centred theology’. (4) One of the telling epigrams used at the beginning of each chapter reads: ‘Blessed are those who have lived before they died’.

    The execution of Bonhoeffer in 1945, at the age of 39 brought to an end, from all human points of view prematurely, one of the most courageous and authentic Christian lives within the Sanctorum Communio (Bonhoeffer’s phrase of choice for the church as Body of Christ). His dissertation under that name, Sanctorum Communio, which reads as a mature and grounded piece of theological research and explication, was written by a twenty one year old theology student!

    Unlike some other studies, Dramm doesn’t try to impose a pattern, whether a theological motif that centres Bonhoeffer’s thought, or a narrative structure that imposes consistency on his views or actions. Instead she accepts the inevitably fragmenary and urgently occasional nature of his writings, the complexity of his thought and experience, and the disruptiveness and increasing danger of his life situation, and from this acceptance of incompleteness, explores what it is that gives Bonhoeffer’s life and thought that singular ring of authenticity, like struck crystal. ‘Is it not true that the lives of many persons remain forever fragmentary, even when they extend over more years than Bonhoeffer’s and finally shatter in a manner less brutal?’ (13) Bonhoeffer himself commented,’The unfinished fragmentary side of life is felt …with special poignance here. But it is exactly this fragment that can in turn point to a consummation no human power can achieve’. This to his parents when it was becoming clear that his own life was now under grave threat.

    And in all the unresolved fragmentariness of Bonhoeffer’ s own experience, much of it caused by the disruption, dislocation and discontinuity of the political, social and historical context of his own times, there was for him the haunting question, "Who am I?" The question became the title of one of his best known poems, written in the summer of 1944. The last two lines express both the fear and faith of a man for whom courage was a gift of undeserved grace rather than a self-sufficient moral virtue.

    Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

    Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

    Dramm’s earlier book on Bonhoeffer and Camus finds both similarity and contrast in two men whose lives were near contemporary. Both were driven to discover and live out the ideal of a truly authentic human existence. Bonhoeffer found it in the reality of God who comes in the human person who is the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ; Camus in human life lived in authentic freedom, sustained by a humanism based on the absurdity that human life, in its combination of the tragic and the noble, has unique and non-negotiable value.

    While not imposing a structure on Bonhoeffers life and thought, this book is itself carefully structured to enable us to see Bonhoeffer – his thought and life- in all the variety and complexity of his character. I’ll give an overview of Dramm’s approach next post.

  • We are always human becomers……

    David Runcorn’s Spirituality Workbook continues to give me good cause to pause, and ponder. He writes:

    At a very confused and painful stage in my life I remember saying to a friend, ‘I don’t think I believe any more.’

    ‘You don’t sound to me like someone who has lost his faith, she replied. ‘You sound like someone who is having to live out of a new part of himself. You are still a stranger to this "you" that is emerging. So it is not surprising if you don’t yet know what faith means.’

    This honest, and compassionate recognition that we are all persons in process, that we are not yet definitively who God calls us to be, and that indeed what makes us human, loveable and fascinating, is our capacity to grow and change. Of course there must be a fundamental continuity that gives content to our personal identity, but there is also something necessarily provisional in who we are at each stage of life.

    Earlier in the book Runcorn indicates what he call ‘core truths about what it means to be human’. Amongst these is the statement,

    Getimageidx ‘We are becomers. We are unfinished. We are lives in process. On the wall of Chartres cathedral in France there is a sculpture of God creating Adam. Adam has half emerged from the dust of the ground and is resting, (or has slumped) against God’s knee, which he is clutching strongly with his left hand. The sculptor has chosen to freeze the action at mid-point. Adam is not yet a complete human being. He is halfway between death and life, being and non-being, dust and divine image. And so are we. We are always human becomers – growing, journeying, exploring.

    Amongst the many implications of such a dynamic view of human being, becoming and identity is that as a human being I can come to temrs with incompleteness. And all those experiences that evidence this truth about who I am becoming, such as my mistakes, failures, limitations, discontents, desires, regrets, fulfilments, frustrations – why cite the entire lexicon of human finitude – they are simply the truth and reality of what it means to be me, but also what it means to be me with potential, me in process of becoming.

    Earlier I was reading that remarkable ending to 1 Corinthians 13 – ‘Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ Till then who I am, only God knows. According to 1 John 3.2, ‘Now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.’

    And as a Christian, that is what defines me. Not my sin; not my finitude; not my achievements. But, ‘we shall be like him’; we will know ourselves, even as we are fully known. Till then we are being formed of the dust of our finitude, by a grace infinite in possibility, and endlessly original in creativity.

  • Reinventing English Evangelicalism 3 Vision Inflation

    Spstandard_9781842275702 Entrepreneurial Evangelicalism arose within the conversionist activist, predominantly charismatic axis of the movement, and Warner examines this in relation to the spectacular and symbiotic growth of the Evangelical Alliance and Spring Harvest from 1980 to around 2001. Pragmatist enthusiasm, product branding, vigorous and franchised marketing, features normally associated with business growth and management, came to be applied to a movement that had previously been modest in its social and political goals.

    ‘Calverism’ is Warner’s term for the centrality of Clive Calver in the rise of both Evangelical Alliance and Spring Harvest as focal points for Evangelicals hungry for identity and influence beyond their own constituency. Calver’s driven personality, charismatic leadership, expansive vision, punishing personal itinerary and extensive network within Evangelicalsm are depicted as the primary engine behind the early mushrooming of personal membership of EA and the increasing popularity and influence of Spring Harvest. However Warner’s analysis of personal membership figures, claims of EA to represent over a million Evangelicals, and other factors behind the presented success story, suggest that such claims were either exaggerated, or unsubstantiated by official statistical data.

    A sociological examination of a movement, and of the influence of a prominent leader seeks explanations through causes, influences, personalities, historical happenstance, and is always likely to sound reductionist. There are times when Calver’s influence and personal impact does indeed seem to have been a decisive factor. What Warner calls the ‘collapse of the Calvinistic hegemony’ in the late 60’s and early 70’s, left the way open for EA to reinvent itself under Calver by including large constituencies of Pentecostal and charismatic new churches within its orbit. Spring Harvest became a recruiting ground for EA personal membership, and the annual gathering a place where styles of worship, teaching emphases, corporate experience of learning and listening in seminars and large worship gatherings, began to present a new brand of Evangelicalism increasingly confident in the relevance, influence and public expression of an Evangelical programme mediated through EA and Spring Harvest and their branded products.

    Warner has serious questions about claims about EA personal membership, (potential 100,000, actual highest 50,000+), and indeed he demonstrates that the higher figure was always an aspirational claim rather than data supported realities. In addition, he argues that personal membership taken out at an emotionally charged gathering such as Spring Harvest, did not imply that from then on, new memebrs were committed to evangelical activism and significant funding of EA once the fervour of the big occasion cooled. The failure ‘to sustain the period of meteoric growth’ Warner attributes to the fact that ‘personal members were passive, and unwilling to become active recruiters’ of others. So personal membership was never an accurate guage of active committed support expressed in funding, activism or recruiting.

    The point of all this for Warner, and his argument has to be read in its detail and complexity, considered critically, and weighed honestly, is that through Calverism, the conversionist-activist axis of English Evangelicalism underwent significant transition. That transition may have triggered short term rapid growth – but the long term effects of ‘vision inflation’ will be felt within Evangelicalism as a whole, and may not be a fruitful legacy. Here are three observations Warner makes, which give a flavour both of his critique and his conslusions about EA in the last 20 years.

    Many Evangelical had unconsciously made a transition from traditional evangelicalism that affirmed the truth of the gospel, to late-modern entrepreneurialism that assumed wholehearted adherence to the gospel guaranteed success for the church. (page 63)

    The EA failed to deliver, not because of lack of effort, but because its visionary goals were unrealistic, not merely in terms of propsepcts for future recruitment of personal members, but because of a wholesale  failure to grasp the corrosive effects upon evangelical influence and identity of the ineluctable cultural transitions of secularization and postmodernity. Evangelicals lacked a coherent socio-political critique and had failed to come to terms with the implications of a secularized and pluralistic culture; enthusiastic rhetoric and ethical conservatism are no substitute for rigorous and reflexive analysis. (page 64)

    The legacy of evangelical boom and bust is apparent; disappointed expectations, a sceptical distrust of subsequent expressions of ambitious vision, and a shift in attitude towards the Alliance so that allegiance to the organistiaon became more provisional, more episodic, more post-institutional. (page 65)

    Warner’s style is at times unsparing of mistakes more easily discovered with hindsight; and he was himself a participant in much that he now critiques. But the underlying impression I have is of one who now sees the serious theological and strategic miscalculations evangelicalism makes when it buys into a consumerist approach to faith sharing and faith celebration. Bono’s scathing observation that joiners of mail order organisations are less "members" than "consumers" of a cause, providing only "cheque-book affiliation", is embarrassingly to the point.

    Amongst the uncomfortable questions raised (for me at any rate), by Warner’s case study of EA, is whether entrepreneurialism, market penetration, pragmatic activism, evangelical branding and franchising, the search for political influence and social recognition, are anything more than reflections of core values and principles inimical, or at least secondary, to a people seeking first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness……. but more of this anon.

  • Reinventing English Evangelicalism: 2 Evangelicalism divided

    "Being ‘born again’ can be profitable. Jesus saves, but Jesus also sells. Evangelicalism is big business".

    Not only big business, but with aspirations to political and social clout, as witness the unseemly scramble of US presidential candidates to talk up their religious credentials. In Britain since the 80’s and 90’s, Warner argues, English Evangelicalism has also claimed to be an important movement, to be taken seriously as capable of making a transformative impact in politics, media and other cultural expressions of social life. The claim however, goes alongside the inescapable evidence that religious decline shows no partiality and Evangelical communities have not been immune to its ravages.

    Rob The introductory section of Warner’s book is unsettling for those who fondly imagine an Evangelical unity that remains inclusive and widely representative of those who hold to shared Evangelical principles. The last 20 years have seen a process of increasing polarisation, as Evangelicalism has gone through a period of reinvention, redefinition and realignment. Warner is unsparing in his criticism of those whose critique aims to privilege that particular expression of Evangelicalism which answers to their own doctrinal commitments or ecclesial and missional practices. Warner contends that David Wells and particularly Don Carson, two of the more trenchant internal critics of Evangelicalism, demonstrate an increasingly hard-edged rejection of legitimate diversity, and a refusal to enter into open dialogue with other professed Evangelicals unwilling to subscribe to statements of doctrinal rectitude mapped to Reformed dogmatics.

    However this is only one instance of the underlying malaise Warner’s study seeks to expose, explore and explain. The historic movement of pan-Evangelicalism, has in the past been held together despite many internal tensions, by agreed principles generously interpreted. These were identified by Bebbington as the centrality of the cross, the authority of the Bible, the necessity of conversion and the evangelistic activist imperative. What Warner argues is that in late 20th century English Evangelicalism, these four essentials in the Evangelical bar code have through a process of bifurcation split the Evangelical movement into two axes. The first is the crucicentric biblicist axis which is essentially Reformed, doctrinally defensive, leans heavily towards fundamentalism and is increasingly separatist. The other is the conversionist activist axis, which is entrepreneurial in style, pragmatic in approach and mainly driven by and ecclesial pragmatism baptised in the Spirit, but less doctrinally precise. Both are increasingly discredited.

    The first Warner argues is tied to Enlightenment categories of reason and epistemology, which are no longer intellectual currency with effective purchasing power in the modern marketplace of ideas. The second borrows uncritically from a modernity founded on consumerism, technology and rampant individualism. Between these two axes there are further and emerging strands of cautiously open Evangelicals and progressive Evangelicals, each to varying extents unwilling to be identified with, and no longer satisfied with, either of the two axial options. What this adds up to is that Evangelicalism is now a contested tradition, with the emerging progressive strand still in process, and its commitments yet to be settled, and the cautiously open likely to opt for one or other of the axial divisions. What is clear is that Evangelicalism is now in process of decisive theological reconfiguration, a process that will consign the notion of an inclusive pan-Evangelicalism to an earlier, more generous era, now sadly gone.

    The conceptual framework Warner constructs borrows critically from, and extends, Bebbington’s quadrilateral. Warner adds to the Bebbington’s four, Christocentrism, transformed life, and revival aspirations. These are also constants in Evangelical theology and spirituality and it would be hard to argue against any of them as characteristics of Evangelicalism. Bebbington’s point though was that the four he identified are, when applied cumulatively, sufficient as identity marks. The three Warner adds are each equally characteristic of Evangelicalism, but are surely not absent as features of other Christian traditions. If all seven are applied I’m  not sure what more is added that makes the seven a better conceptual tool than the four, providing the four are agreed to achieve the same end, identity marks which taken cumulatively amount to a definition.

    The rest of the introduction is a careful review of secularisation theory, outlines a justification for Warner’s ‘revisionist account of the historical narrative of pan-Evangelicalism, notes the hotly debated relationship between Evangelicalism and fundamentalism, and takes time to explain the sociological significance of Evangelical sub-cultures. There is then a careful defence of his own position which started as observer participant and moved to participant observer, signalling Warner’s own felt need for critical distance and personal integrity. All in all this first 35 pages is an education in what Callum Brown called the ‘integration of history, sociology and religious studies in the examination of Christianity in the context of contemporary secularisation.’ And it is carried through by one who is an informed insider, now highly critical of aspects of a movement to which he has been a major contributor and leader; it may be that one of his most important contributions is to enable Evangelicalism to face up to the reality of its own failure to make essential theological transitions, within a legitimate diversity held together by common commitment to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

    Charles Wesley, that too easily neglected ecclesiologist, at the watershed of the Evangelical movement, wrote about the work of Christ perfecting the church below. Twenty first century Evangelicalism could do with a mighty dose of that ‘Love divine, all loves excelling’, which, if not included in any quadrilateral, with or without additions, is nevertheless the core of all Evangelical religion:

    Love, like death, has all destroyed

    rendered all distinctions void;

    names and sects and parties fall

    Thou, O Christ, art all in all.