Bonhoeffer as a model for an integrated Christian life

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing a recent book by our leader.

 In the Shadow of a Rugged Cross: Reflections on the Spirituality of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Charles R. Ringma

Like most of Charles' books, this one is best read as a devotional book. There are ten chapters, each of which has six sections of about two pages in length. Each section begins with a Bible verse and ends with a short prayer. Most of the prayers are taken from the Celtic Daily Prayer book from the Northumbria Community or Liturgies from Below: Praying with People at the End of the World by Claudio Carvalhaes. Each section has a reflection on a specific topic, drawing on multiple short quotations from Bonhoeffer.

The book helped me appreciate how Bonhoeffer's Christian life was integrated in two senses. Bonhoeffer did not compartmentalise or over-emphasise one dimension of the Christian life.

First, in both his theology and his life, for Bonhoeffer, there was no separation or isolation of head, heart, and hands. They all matter. What we believe, what we love and worship, and how we serve are intertwined. 

Second, living as a Christian is not just an individual or private spiritual experience. It is intertwined with our relationships with family, church, society, and nation. On the one hand, the church is distinct from society and should not conform to its values, ethics, and priorities. On the other hand, the church is to be salt and light in society, loving and serving the marginalised, and speaking truth to power.

Most importantly, Bonhoeffer was Christ-centric. On any matter, in the end, he went back to the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This meant the Bible, and particularly the Gospel narratives, were central to his theology and ethics. He wrestled, both intellectually and in prayer, to understand his life and context, what they meant in light of Scripture, and how to move forward in faith and obedience.

Here are a few quotations from Charles' book that I found helpful and challenging.

    "When we embrace the great gift of the Holy Spirit, we need to be discerning, what is most precious can be easily distorted.

If the Spirit we are following is not binding us to the Word and the person and work of Christ, we can be led into the side-alleys of subjectivism. We can make all sorts of claims that the Spirit "told" us to say or to do something, when in fact we are over-riding the ever-gentle Spirit, or letting our own imagination run rife."

page 63 

    "Prophetic spirituality has nothing to do with iron clad certainties. It is birthed in the contested space of discernment. It is the place of struggle – do I really understand what is happening in our society when so many seem to think that everything is good? Have I really “heard” the voice of God? And are my actions of proclamation and resistance consistent with my beliefs? And will there be good outcomes?"

page 120

Charles begins Chapter 9, "Celebrating the Good in our World," stating

 "I have been around radical Christians for much of my life. There is much to admire: their vision for a better world, their willingness to practice the good they hope for, their courage to proclaim truth to power, and their willingness to embrace suffering.

But radical Christians are often overly idealistic, unfairly critical of others, and over time, their projects can run out of steam. Another difficulty is that radical Christians don’t give much attention to the “ordinary” realities and structures of life. 

What is surprising is that the radical Bonhoeffer is different. He practices radical alternatives, while at the same time maintaining a vision for the continuance of the more ordinary realities of life – family, work, church, governance, among other themes. This is both refreshing and challenging. And importantly, this calls us to live a more dynamic dialectic. Church, yes. But also, community. Word, yes. But also, Spirit. Prophecy, yes. But also, maintenance."

page 146 

Memorial statue of Bonhoeffer in Westminster Abbey.

My articles on theology and science

Here are links to articles that I have written over the years on theology and science.

Can Science see the End?  Case Magazine, 2003, with Greg Clarke.

Foundations of the Dialogue between the Physical Sciences and Theology, Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith  (2004).

Dialectical critical realism in science and theology: Quantum Physics and Karl Barth, Science and Christian Belief (2008), with Ben Myers.

Emergence, reductionism and the stratification of reality in science and theology, Scottish Journal of Theology (2011).

Emergence: The whole is greater than the sum of the parts, Test of Faith.

Science and theology in the non-Western world, Guest Editorial, Science and Christian Belief, 2012.

Living as a Physicist and a Christian, a chapter in the book, Why Study? Exploring the Face of God in the Academy, published by Singapore FES.

Towards a Christian vision for the modern secular university: A theological contribution to competing visions of the university, IFES Word and World, 2018. What is a university for? is a long version of the published article.

Who's afraid of social science?

Case Magazine, 2019.

A Theology of Weakness,

Chapter  in Pub Theology: Where Potato Wedges and a Beer are a Eucharistic Experience

Blessed are the Meek: The Science and Theology of Humility, 

Chapter 3 in To Whom Shall We Go? Faith Responses in a Time of Crisis

Science, Humanity and Jesus, A talk at Theology on Tap Brisbane, June 2025.

Transformation in the Natural Sciences

Draft book chapter, September 2025

Karl Barth and the dialogue between theology and the sciences, Draft paper

A metaphor for traditions

Traditions are a reality. We are immersed in them. We cannot escape them. We need to be aware of them and see their strengths and weaknesses. Previously, I introduced tradition as a potential guide (along with experience, reason, and transcendence) to help make sense of science, God, and life. In this chapter, I explore in more detail different dimensions of traditions, including culture, worldview, narratives, institutions, and hermeneutics. Culture shapes the way we see things, how we do things, and what we think makes sense.

A good metaphor for traditions may be farms. Farms are a reality and won’t go away, as we need food, and they are a means to provide it. Each farm has an origin and history. But even with diligent historical investigation, there will be some level of uncertainty about that origin and history. For example, where does one begin? With the first owner of the land? Or indigenous people? Or the ecological history of the land? Farms are dynamic as they continually change due to both internal and external forces. Farms are diverse in scale, crops, animals, buildings, workers, institutional structure, types of engagement with the external world, sense of identity, and goals. They are multifaceted and can be described in terms of agriculture, ecology, biology, economics, politics, and culture. 

The value assigned to different types of farms, from a small family organic farm to a megafarm owned by a multinational corporation, is subjective and contested. Farms can be associated with idealism, romanticism, or a harsh struggle for survival. The value of farms is tied up with the knotty concept of efficiency. It is unrealistic for most of us to individually grow all our own food, and so we choose to benefit from the hard-won experience and expertise of farmers. We cannot start from scratch. Modernity in the form of science, technology, and capitalism threatens the existence and viability of many types of farms.

Over time, a farm might remain fruitful, or it may become barren and unproductive. Some farms produce wonderful and nutritious food. The produce of other farms may be toxic because of disease, pesticides or contaminated soil. Remember mad cow disease? Farms cannot be separated from their context: the climate, environment, adjacent farms, economics, culture, and politics. Interactions between a farm and its context may be positive or negative. To be productive and sustainable, farms need custodians who both preserve them and adapt to their context. Successful and productive farms may be taken over by people who see them as a means of personal gain and have little interest in preserving the history or what the custodians saw as valuable.

In the paragraphs above, the word “farm” could be replaced with “tradition.” Like models, all metaphors are wrong, but some are useful. Farms are simpler and less controversial than traditions. I like the metaphor because it provides insights into the multifaceted character of traditions and the issues they raise, while possibly protecting us from our strong feelings, either positive or negative, about specific traditions. 

Living and dying for your country

 I recently read Patriot, an autobiography by Alexei Navalny, as a part of an extended family book club. I thank my sister-in-law and her husband for choosing the book, selecting it and giving us a copy for Christmas.

Navalny was a Russian activist, campaigning against corruption in the Putin regime. He became well known through a blog that led to the formation of the Anti-Corruption Foundation. It made extensive investigations that were publicised through beautifully crafted videos that revealed the ridiculous wealth that Putin and his cronies acquired through the looting of state-owned enterprises. Navalny was poisoned in 2020, spent 6 months recovering in Germany, and then courageously returned to Russia, even though he knew he would probably be arrested and die in prison. Unfortunately, this is what happened.

I highly recommend the book, even though it is long and at times distressing and depressing. Navalny is a gifted writer and storyteller. I learnt much about life in the former Soviet Union from someone who grew up in the context of the Chernobyl nuclear accident and the war in Afghanistan, leading ultimately to the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Whereas Gorbachev and Yeltsin are often seen as heroes in the West, Navalny does not see them that way. Gorbachev was well-meaning but indecisive. He became unpopular as his first initiative was one banning alcohol, to combat widespread alcoholism. Nevertheless, in hindsight, Navalny developed a great respect for Gorbachev because he was incorruptible. He never gained financially from his position.

On the somewhat lighter side, as a physicist, I was intrigued by

“I firmly believe that all the best things on earth have been created by brave nerds. (I have on the wall of my office a photograph of the 1927 Solvay Conference on Physics. My heroes are those brave nerds who brought about a revolution and enabled the progress of all humankind. I find them so inspiring that I have hung a copy of that photo in the rooms of both my children.)"

An important question is how did Navalny sustain his activism, stay courageous, and endure the suffering of prison?

While in prison, Navalny memorised Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, all 111 verses in Russian, English, French, and Latin! He discusses how this sustained him. It was central to one of the speeches he gave during one of his "criminal trials" in prison.

“It’s not always easy for to do what this book [the Bible] says, but I try. And that’s why it’s easier for me than for many other people who do politics in Russia. Recently someone wrote to me. ‘Navalny,’ he says, why is everyone telling you to “stay strong,” “don’t give up,” “stick out,” and “grit your teeth”? What is it you’re having to put up with? Didn’t you say awhile back in an interview that you believe in God, and it says in the Bible, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be fulfilled.” Well, that’s great. You’ve got it made!’ And I thought, How about that! How well this person understands me. I’m not sure I’ve got it made exactly, but I’ve always accepted that particular precept as pretty much an instruction on how to act. 

That’s why I feel, while of course I’m not particularly enjoying my present situation, I feel no regret about having returned here and what I’m doing. Because everything I did was right. On the contrary, I feel, well, a certain satisfaction… 

I don’t [feel lonely], and let me explain why. Because those words — ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness’ — seem exotic and a bit weird, but they actually express the most important political idea in Russia at this moment.” (pages 326-327) 

The book ends with his testimony of how his simple trust in Jesus sustained him. It did not require

"fervent prayer by the prison barracks window three times a day (a very common phenomenon in prisons). 

I have always thought, and said openly, that being a believer makes it easier to live your life and, to an an even greater extent, engage in opposition politics. Faith makes life simpler.

… ask yourself whether you are a Christian in your heart of hearts. It is not essential for you to believe some old guys in the desert once lived to be eight hundred years old or that the sea was literally parted in front of someone. But are you a disciple of the religion whose founder sacrificed himself for others, paying the price for their sins? Do you believe in the immortality of the soul and the rest of that cool stuff? If you can honestly answer yes, what is there left for you to worry about? … Don’t worry about the morrow, because the morrow is perfectly capable of taking care of itself. 

My job is to seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and leave it to good old Jesus and the rest of his family to deal with everything else. They won’t let me down and will sort out all of my headaches. As they say in prison here: they will take my punches for me.” (page 479)

A helpful book review that explores the above themes more is by Andrew DeCort 

Karl Barth and the dialogue between theology and the sciences

I just finished writing a paper that draws together many things I posted in the early years of this blog.

Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Creation: implications for the dialogue between theology and the sciences

Abstract

Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Creation is argued to be fruitful for discussing the relationship between the natural sciences and theology. Barth saw distinct roles for each but acknowledged that the boundary between them is not clear. He argued that the existence of the world as a distinct objective reality is an article of faith, resonating with some modern philosophical and scientific discussions. The purpose of the Biblical account of Creation is not to give a scientific account of material origins but rather to describe the purpose of the Creation: the Covenant between Israel and the Creator God. The clear distinction between the Creation and the Creator can justify the methodological naturalism of science. Given that the Covenant is the internal basis of creation, we should not be surprised that science has discovered reliable laws of regularity and uniformity. These laws reflect the covenantal faithfulness of the Creator.

The full manuscript is available here.

I welcome comments.

Happy 50th Birthday Papua New Guinea!

 Fifty years ago, Papua New Guinea became an independent nation after years of colonial rule by Australia.

There is much to celebrate!

Here are a few sample postings.

Ten Things I will be Celebrating, by my son Luke.

In Praise of Papua New Guinea, by myself.

Comparing ourselves to 100+-year-old countries is unfair, by Kingtau Mambon.

Getting into Paul's Letter to the Romans

At church, we are doing a sermon series on Paul's letter to the Romans. Below is some background material that I have found helpful.

First, here is Eugene Peterson's introduction from The Message.

"The event that split history into “before” and “after” and changed the world took place about thirty years before Paul wrote this letter. The event—the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus—took place in a remote corner of the extensive Roman Empire: the province of Judea in Palestine. Hardly anyone noticed, certainly no one in busy and powerful Rome.

And when this letter arrived in Rome, hardly anyone read it, certainly no one of influence. There was much to read in Rome—imperial decrees, exquisite poetry, finely crafted moral philosophy—and much of it was world-class. And yet in no time, as such things go, this letter left all those other writings in the dust. Paul’s letter to the Romans has had a far larger impact on its readers than the volumes of all those Roman writers put together.

The quick rise of this letter to a peak of influence is extraordinary, written as it was by an obscure Roman citizen without connections. But when we read it for ourselves, we begin to realize that it is the letter itself that is truly extraordinary, and that no obscurity in writer or readers could have kept it obscure for long.

The letter to the Romans is a piece of exuberant and passionate thinking. This is the glorious life of the mind enlisted in the service of God. Paul takes the well-witnessed and devoutly believed fact of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth and thinks through its implications. How does it happen that in the death and resurrection of Jesus, world history took a new direction, and at the same moment the life of every man, woman, and child on the planet was eternally affected? What is God up to? What does it mean that Jesus “saves”? What’s behind all this, and where is it going?

These are the questions that drive Paul’s thinking. Paul’s mind is supple and capacious. He takes logic and argument, poetry and imagination, Scripture and prayer, creation and history and experience, and weaves them into this letter that has become the premier document of Christian theology."

Here is the poster from The Bible Project.

and the videos

 

 

 Here is a word cloud.

The centrality of marginality to Christian theology and life

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing Marginality: The Key to Multicultural Theology by Jung Young Lee.

How do we make sense of our life experience in terms of theology? How do we make sense of theology in terms of our life experience? Given our humanity (finitude and egoism), it is impossible to completely separate our theology and our experience. Will they enrich or distort one another? Previously, I have written about the challenges of contextual theology.

Jung Young Lee was born in North Korea in 1935, escaped to South Korea during the Korean War, and immigrated to the USA as an undergraduate student. He then worked as a librarian, obtained a Ph.D., taught in a secular university, became a minister in the United Methodist Church, was active in its Korean-American congregations, and became a Professor of Systematic Theology at Drew University. Over the years, he experienced racism, prejudice, and stereotyping as an Asian-American.  Not feeling he belonged in the USA, he returned to South Korea at one point with the intention of staying. However, he discovered that he felt he no longer belonged there either.

Lee makes sense of his life through three lenses: historical, sociological, and theological. He recounts the historical experience of immigrants to the USA from Japan, Korea, and China, beginning in the nineteenth century. It is a sad and disturbing history of exploitation, discrimination, and humiliation. He discusses the sociological concept of marginality that was introduced to describe the "integration" of immigrants into the American "melting pot." He contests some of these definitions as they are developed by those in the centre and assume that being on the margins is bad and that the marginalised should move towards the centre. The centre is characterised by a concern with "wealth, power, and glory." (page 31)

"Immigration is the most vivid and profound symbol of marginality for us." (page 110).

Lee claims that "Theology is autobiographical so I reflect on my praxis and context." (page 33).

Lee discusses how marginality is central to the Biblical narrative. The Tower of Babel "was the symbol of centralisation" (p. 110). 

Lee suggests that in Old Testament narratives there are three acts (p,111). 

1. God's call to be a marginal people

2. Faith

3. "The promise which includes  receiving land, becoming a powerful nation, and making a great name (Genesis 12:1-9)."

"These three acts are inseparable. The first and third acts seem to contradict one another, but they are connected in the second act. The order of these acts cannot be reversed.... Tragedies in the history of Judaism and Christianity were due to the reversal this order... The coexistence of both marginality (the first act) and centrality (the third act) is possible in faith (the second act), the connecting principle..."

There is a dialectic. It is both/and rather than either/or.

God called Moses from his marginal status to lead the Israelite slaves out of Egypt. They wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Jesus was born in a stable, the son of a teenage unwed woman, and grew up in Galilee. In the wilderness, he resisted the temptation to embrace "wealth, power, and honour." He was scorned by the centre: the local religious and political leaders. The focus of his ministry was on the marginalised: the poor, sick, ritually unclean, hungry, lame, beggars, prostitutes, and tax collectors.  Jesus' death on the cross was the ultimate symbol of marginalisation. His disciples were not drawn from the social, political, or religious elites.

Humility, service, and love are the dominant characteristics Jesus said his followers should have. The early church did this and lived on the margins. Yet, following Constantine and the rise of Christendom, the church embraced centrality and scorned marginality. It was characterised by wealth, honour, and power. Today, the church, in all its diverse forms, still aspires to centrality. It is hierarchical, bureaucratic, and exclusive. Dogma does not recognise multiple shades of grey. (p. 125) "Centralism is the cardinal sin that destroys the authentic church." (p.142)

Lee presents a radical alternative vision for the church, including for seminaries. He argues that cell groups should be the core structural element of the church. Structures should be characterised by flexibility, local autonomy, and informality.

I have sympathy for his proposals, but sometimes I find he is idealistic and overly optimistic. Some of his proposals may work for a marginalised community such as Korean-Americans (who tend to be disciplined, well-organised, and highly educated). However, for groups of people such as the homeless and those with addictions or traumatic backgrounds, it is extremely challenging for them to develop structures and leaders. Such challenges are helpfully described in an earlier post by my wife, Robin.

On a personal level, I found the book challenging and discomforting. I am a child of the centre, in terms of family background, race, education, wealth, social status, and profession. Most of my life, I have been involved in churches and ministries that value and focus on centrality and marginality. This has not involved a blatant seeking after wealth, power, and honour. It has been much more subtle and subconscious, reflecting the surrounding culture and background of the participants and leaders. Too often I have been attracted to the centre and seduced by it. Only over the last fifteen years, I have a moved to a more marginal outlook and focus, stimulated by experiences in the Majority World. Yet the pull back to the centre is there day after day, particularly towards comfort, safety, and predictability.

The orientation and main messages of the book are largely not new to me. Nevertheless, it is a message I need to keep hearing. Lee's description of the immigrant experience, both his own and his historical predecessors, increased my imagination and empathy towards the immigrants I interact with. He gives seven characteristics of the experience of marginality: rejection, humiliation, alienation, loneliness, nothingness, allness, and a vision of new life.

Visualising the church in first century Rome

 I watched the movie, Paul, Apostle of Christ, on Netflix. Here are a few things that I found helpful about the movie. Overall, it provided me with a clearer picture of what it may have been like to be a follower of Jesus in Rome during the reign of Emperor Nero. 

The Gospel was for "losers": the poor, oppressed, orphans, weak, powerless, children, widows, cripples, and dying. They were held in contempt by the Roman rulers, who were arrogant, ruthless, proud, heartless, pagan, and lovers of money and power. Being a Christian meant living in community, serving the marginalised, being willing to suffer, renouncing violence, and every day facing the possibility of a violent death.

There is a wonderful scene where Paul has a discussion with Mauritius, the Roman soldier who is the prison prefect. Mauritius cannot understand why Paul is a respected and influential leader of the Christians, is willing to suffer, does not gain financially from his ministry, and believes in truth.

A heartfelt reckoning with Australia's history of colonialism, racism, and Whiteness

Life experiences shape us, for better or for worse. They can be rich, meaningful, and beautiful. They can be awful and scar us for life. Much of our experience is shaped/determined by the family, culture, and moment we were born into. 

Both Stan Grant and I were born in Australia in the early 1960s and went to high school in the Canberra suburb of Belconnen. Besides, living many years outside Australia, perhaps that is the sum total of our common life experience. He has been successful as a journalist, both internationally and in Australia.

Stan Grant is a Wiradjuri man. His grandparents' home was bulldozed by the Police with the authority of the British crown. His family was dirt poor, always lived on the fringes of towns, and moved continually as his father sought itinerant work. He never stayed in one school for more than a year. No one in his family finished high school, let alone attended university. He says his family was characterised by love. His grandfather fought for Australia in World War II, but when he returned, he was not allowed to go to the local pub to share a drink with his mates. Other returned soldiers were entitled to housing. His grandfather was not. Family members were often harassed by the police. One was put in prison for speaking his native language. Until his family moved to Canberra when he was a teenager, most of his peers were indigenous.

In contrast, I spent the first 22 years of my middle-class life in the same house, my father had the same job that whole time,  both my parents had a Ph.D., and the schools I attended were "lily white".

Literature can be powerful because it can create empathy. It can help us see and feel the world through the eyes and experiences of another person. Incidentally, this is one argument for the importance of the humanities and a liberal arts education. 

Grant is a gifted writer, and his book, The Queen is Dead gave me a glimpse into a world so different to my own, even though it is spatially close and overlapping. The emotions I experienced included sadness, confusion, shock, anger, embarrassment, powerlessness, despair, frustration, and guilt. I guess that my emotional responses are tame and transient compared to the raw emotions that Grant lives with, day in and day out.

Most chapters begin with the refrain. "The White Queen is dead."  The book is prompted by the death of the British monarch in 2023. It is not about her as a person. "The White Queen is a metaphor". (page 9). The book is a personal reckoning with the legacy of colonialism and racism in Australia.

"How do we live with the weight of history? How do we not fall prey to soul-destroying vengeance and resentment, yet never relent in our righteous demand for justice?" (page 5).

Reflecting on his and others' response to the death of the White Queen, he states:

"And in my anger I am confronted again by the two consuming questions of my life: what is Whiteness? And what is it to live with catastrophe?" (page 54)

While in primary school, a white student asked Stan, "Why are you so Black?" (page 84). This incident has tormented him his whole life, and he keeps coming back to it in the book.

Grant reflects painfully on public events over the past quarter of a century that have attracted media attention and have a racist dimension. This includes the significance of the Sydney Olympics in 2000 for Australian identity, Cathy Freeman's gold medal in the 400 metres at that Olympics, the abuse of footballer Adam Goodes, the sponsorship of the Australian women's netball team by Hancock Prospecting, Hawthorn Football Club's treatment of indigenous players, and  Grant's experience working for and eventual departure from the public broadcaster ABC News. He helped me see these events in a raw and painful way.

Grant provides a helpful critique of modernity and the Enlightenment. White men "invented modernity as a place of endless possibility." (page 19). The freedom promised often degenerated into tyranny. Modernity provided an intellectual framework and justification for racism and colonialism. 

"Identities can nourish us. They can give us community. Identities can give us voice. That notion of identity is a conceit of the West - identity as freedom. But identity can also - and far more often than not, in fact - be a pathway to tyranny." (page 23).

"Modernity has supplanted god with its own faith in progress and reason. The liberalism that emerged out of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Enlightenment imagines that we can wash ourselves clean of the past. But there can be no redemption without atonement." (page 214)

We discussed the book this month in the theology reading group. At first glance, the book might not appear to have much theology, particularly if you read the publisher's blurb

Grant dedicates the book :

To Baiame, my creator

To Jesus Christ, my saviour

To Yindyamarra, the Spirit

"Vindicate me, O God. And plead my cause against an ungodly nation" (Psalm 43:1)"

Theological allusions are scattered through the book. Two short sections (pages 207-211 and 272-278) focus on theology. He engages with Simone Weil, the mystic who had a strong solidarity with the oppressed, and Miroslav Volf.

The first section reflects on his experience of church while growing up. A similar reflection is in a beautiful and powerful article, “This is the way healing begins”: Recovering the language of lament in a disenchanted age 

"For me, Easter is not a time of resurrection. I don’t rush to Easter Sunday but dwell in the darkness of Holy Saturday — the day after the crucifixion, when those closest to the crucified Christ shivered in fear. On that day there is no promise of tomorrow. There is no hope. It is the day when faith itself feels destitute.

It was the darkness of Holy Saturday that I felt — deep in my bones — when I was a little boy. I felt it in the church on the mission on the outskirts of Griffith in New South Wales that was a home, spiritually and physically, to my family. It could have been any of the missions scattered across our country. The places to which we were banished, and yet managed to find refuge.

There was a tiny wooden church on the mission. I remember cramming into the pews, with my best Sunday clothes on and my hair spit down.

My uncle was the pastor. He was an old-time fire-and-brimstone preacher. Not long into his sermon, his white shirt would be stained with sweat. He would constantly mop his brow with a handkerchief. He clutched a tattered black leather-bound copy of the King James Bible under one arm, yet never needed to read from it. He could recite the scripture from memory. With his other arm he would point. Each word landing — and I felt always landing on me.

My head would ache in that church. I would twitch and look out the window. I felt a heavy weight in that church. I have felt it in other black churches, places where our people come to worship. We pray differently. We sing differently. Our hymns are songs of sorrow...

Ours, you see, was the church of the forsaken.

Why, you may be wondering, am I talking about God, about the church, about Christianity? Is that not the religion of empire? Isn’t Christianity the legacy of colonisation? Certainly since the time of the conversion of the Roman emperor Constantine, Christianity has been wielded as the divine right of kings. It has interwoven itself with power and tyranny.

Yes, those proclaiming the word of God came to this land with a Bible in one hand and a gun in the other. The doctrine of discovery, of terra nullius, was itself a sort of decree — that any land not belonging to a Christian monarch was free for the taking.

Yes, God sat astride empire. But that was not our God. That is Christendom, not Christianity. God did not arrive here with the first fleet. We knew God. We walked in God’s creation, in the land that God had given us. We told stories to God. We painted God on our rocks and on our bodies. We had our word for God: Baiame.

When we heard the stories of Jesus, we heard the story of a dark-skinned man in a land of empire. Oppressed and colonised. A tribal man. We heard the story of someone speaking back to power. We heard the words of an ancestor. And in the crucifixion. We felt the wounds. We felt the shame. We felt the abandonment."

This is how theology should be done: personal and contextual, rather than impersonal and abstract. 

Stan Grant writes some wonderful columns every fortnight for The Saturday Paper. There is also a beautiful episode, "Disenchanted Age" of the Undeceptions podcast, where he is interviewed by John Dickson.

Highlights from John's Gospel

The Gospel According to John is a rich narrative built around many stories, metaphors, themes, concepts, events, prayers, teachings, and allusions to the Old Testament. After reading and listening to it multiple times over the past month, it is hard to pick out what is most striking, meaningful, challenging, comforting, or confusing. My previous post provided some brilliant and helpful summaries made by others. To those, I add Eugene Peterson's brilliant discussion in Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places (pages 85-108).

Here are a few interrelated themes that stood out to me personally. They are so connected that it is hard to put them in a particular order.

Incarnation

The living Word of God became a living human in the form of Jesus. He was the embodiment of God's love, promises, character, power, mystery, grace, and truth.

Sin and salvation

Make no mistake. Humans are sinful. Sin is slavery, destructive, evil, dark, opposed to truth, and leads to spiritual death and judgement, both now and for eternity. Humans need to be saved and redeemed from these terrible consequences. Jesus offers salvation through his sacrificial death. He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The whole second half of the Gospel centres around Jesus' death.

Belief, love, and obedience

These cannot be separated. Belief is not just intellectual assent to propositional truth. Belief/faith is trust and active participation. Belief, obedience, love, and personal revelation are synergistic and not sequential. "He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves Me... I will love him and manifest myself to him." (14:21, RSV). (This verse was very helpful to me early in my Christian journey when I memorised it more than forty years ago). See also 7:18 and 8:31-2.

A new creation

John 1 echoes the creation account in Genesis 1, "In the beginning God created..." all life, something good, with powerful words. This creation continues in Jesus, the living Word, who entered this creation to make a new creation, an abundant life and salvation.

Abundant life

Jesus said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." (10:10, NIV). John wrote his Gospel "that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name." (20:31, NIV).

Jesus does not just offer eternal life but an abundant life now, even though that may involve suffering, sacrifice, sickness, and death. It is now but not yet. Time and eternity come together in the incarnation, his death, his resurrection, and even in our own lives.

The Spirit

Jesus promised his followers to not leave them alone but to send the Spirit: his living presence, a comforter and advocate. The Spirit convicts the world of sin, righteousness, and judgement. The Spirit guides us into the truth, reminding us of Jesus' teaching. The Spirit enables us to forgive others and can unite Christians. The Spirit empowers us for mission, enabling acts of service and bearing witness to the truth. (As the Father sent Jesus, so he sends us).

The characteristics above show that the Spirit is practical, concrete, and personal. This is far from some abstract, vague, and impersonal force. The spirit is not something special people tune into through some mystical process to provide some secret knowledge or an inner voice that will prompt them to take some action to enhance their affluent lifestyle.

False dichotomies and dialectic

The world [cosmos] is flawed, broken, evil, and opposed to Jesus and his followers. Yet this world is also created, beautiful, and redeemable. Jesus did not come to condemn the world but to save it.

Jesus' Kingdom is for this world, but its' values are not derived from this world. It is an upside-down kingdom.

The abstract and concrete, the spiritual and material, time and eternity, faith and works. Each half of these pairs is often brought into tension or said to contradict the other half of the pair. However, in the Gospel of John, and ultimately in Jesus, they are brought together in beautiful life-enhancing ways.

Reading the Gospel of John

This month in the theology reading group, we are doing something different. We are not reading a theology book, but a book of the Bible! We will be discussing the Gospel of John. In preparation, I am listening to large sections.

Below is some material that I have found helpful concerning the big picture.

Here is an introduction written by Eugene Peterson for The Message.

"In Genesis, the first book of the Bible, God is presented as speaking the creation into existence. God speaks the word and it happens: heaven and earth, ocean and stream, trees and grass, birds and fish, animals and humans. Everything, seen and unseen, called into being by God’s spoken word.

In deliberate parallel to the opening words of Genesis, John presents God as speaking salvation into existence. This time God’s word takes on human form and enters history in the person of Jesus. Jesus speaks the word and it happens: forgiveness and judgment, healing and illumination, mercy and grace, joy and love, freedom and resurrection. Everything broken and fallen, sinful and diseased, called into salvation by God’s spoken word.

For, somewhere along the line things went wrong (Genesis tells that story, too) and are in desperate need of fixing. The fixing is all accomplished by speaking—God speaking salvation into being in the person of Jesus. Jesus, in this account, not only speaks the word of God; he is the Word of God.

Keeping company with these words, we begin to realize that our words are more important than we ever supposed. Saying “I believe,” for instance, marks the difference between life and death. Our words accrue dignity and gravity in conversations with Jesus. For Jesus doesn’t impose salvation as a solution; he narrates salvation into being through leisurely conversation, intimate personal relationships, compassionate responses, passionate prayer, and—putting it all together—a sacrificial death. We don’t casually walk away from words like that."

Here is a word cloud for the book. 

Here are the poster and videos from The Bible Project

Part 1

Part 2

Science, Humanity, and Jesus

Theology on Tap in Brisbane recently celebrated its tenth anniversary.

On Sunday, June 8, I will give the next talk, on "Science, Humanity, and Jesus." Here is the abstract.

Cultural, political, economic, technological, and philosophical forces have been steadily eroding our humanity over the past few hundred years. Scientism is the notion that science has the answers to everything and has led to a reductionist, largely biological view of what it means to be human. With irony, I will give a scientific argument, using the concept of emergence, that the natural sciences are largely irrelevant for understanding our humanity. Emergence notes how reality is stratified and the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Instead of science, we need to look to the humanities, including theology for insights. Truth, justice, and beauty are irreducible and transcendent. Meaning and significance comes from human relationships where love, mercy, hope, forgiveness, and grief are central. Jesus is the ultimate embodiment of humanity and offers us the power to be truly human.

Location is Raven Hotel in West End. 

Flyer is here.

Here is a copy of the text and of the slides.

Participating in the Greatest Story ever told

What role should the Bible play in the life of Christians, individually and collectively? How is the Bible to be read, interpreted, applied, and lived out?

This month in the theology reading group, we are discussing Eugene Peterson's book, Eat This Book: A Conversation in the Art of Spiritual Reading.

It is the second book in a five-part series. Last year we discussed the first in the series, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places.

The title of the book is based on Revelation 10:9-10

...I went to the angel and asked him to give me the little scroll. He said to me, ‘Take it and eat it. It will turn your stomach sour, but “in your mouth it will be as sweet as honey.”’ I took the little scroll from the angel’s hand and ate it. It tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth, but when I had eaten it, my stomach turned sour. 

Here are the main ideas from the book that stood out to me. They are interrelated. Some may seem basic or obvious, but they come alive through the power, creativity, and beauty of Peterson's prose.

1. The Bible must be central to the lives of Christians. It requires diligence for the Bible to not become peripheral due to the busyness of modern life and the seductive power of the self (the trinity of my Needs, my Wants, and my Feelings).

2. The Bible is to be lived. It is a great story that we are invited to participate in. This means obedience. Bible reading is not to be primarily about gathering information, but formation.

3. The Bible invites us into a "strange new world". [Here, Peterson is using Karl Barth's phrase.] It is counter-cultural to every culture of all time. To enter this strange world, we must read it as literature, having our imagination opened up by narrative, metaphor, and connectness.

4. The Bible is accessible to all regardless of their background (perspicuity). It can be and should be read by all. Just the plain old text! This accessibility does not preclude or diminish the value of careful and diligent scholarship.

5. Translation is necessary, subtle, and contentious. Translation is not just a technical exercise of precisely matching individual words in ancient Greek and Hebrew to words in modern English. Words are ambiguous. Phrases and sentences are even more ambiguous. "Context contaminates and interferes with precision" (p. 86) Translation matters because it makes the living Word of God accessible.

6. Lectio divina (reading spiritually) provides a model on "how to" read the Bible. But, it "is not a methodical technique... It is a cultivated, developed habit of living the text in Jesus' name." (page 116).  There are four elements, and they are not necessarily sequential. Lectio (read the text), meditatio (meditate on the text), oratio (pray the text), and contemplatio (live the text).

7. Bible reading is not just to be done alone. It is to be done in communities and out loud. The written word and the oral word are not the same. The original texts were largely read aloud and listened to by communities. Bible reading and liturgy should be inseparable.

Below are some choice quotes from the book.

“The Scriptures, read and prayed, are our primary and normative access to God as He reveals Himself to us. The Scriptures are our listening post for learning the language of the soul, the ways God speaks to us; they also provide the vocabulary and grammar that are appropriate for us as we in our turn speak to God.”

“The Bible is basically and overall a narrative - an immense, sprawling, capacious narrative.”

“All serious and good writing anticipates precisely this kind of reading-ruminative and leisurely, a dalliance with words in contrast to wolfing down information.”

“It is useful to reflect that the word 'liturgy' did not originate in church or worship settings. In the Greek world it referred to public service, what a citizen did for the community. As the church used the word in relation to worship, it kept this 'public service' quality - working for the community on behalf of or following orders from God. As we worship God, revealed personally as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in our Holy Scriptures, we are not doing something apart form or away from the non-Scripture=reading world; we do it for the world - bringing all creation and all history before God, presenting our bodies and all the beauties and needs of humankind before God in praise and intercession, penetrating and serving the world for whom Christ died in the strong name of the Trinity.”

“The Holy Scriptures are story-shaped. Reality is story-shaped. The world is story-shaped. Our lives are story-shaped. 'I had always,' wrote G.K. Chesterton in accounting for his Christian belief, 'felt life first as a story, and if there is a story, there is a story-teller.' We enter this story, following the story-making, storytelling Jesus, and spend the rest of our lives exploring the amazing and exquisite details, the words and sentences that go into the making of the story of our creation, salvation, and life of blessing. It is a story chock full of invisibles and intricate with connections. Imagination is required.”

“We are fond of saying that the Bible has all the answers. And that is certainly correct. The text of the Bible sets us in a reality that is congruent with who we are as created beings in God's image and what we are destined for in the purposes of Christ. But the Bible also has all the questions, many of them that we would just as soon were never asked of us, and some of which we will spend the rest of our lives doing our best to dodge. The Bible is a most comforting book; it is also a most discomfiting book.”

“Obedience is the thing, living in active response to the living God. The most important question we ask of this text is not, 'What does this mean?' but 'What can I obey?' A simple act of obedience will open up our lives to this text far more quickly than any number of Bible studies and dictionaries and concordances.”

Genesis, science, and Jesus

In a recent podcast episode entitled, The Chemists, John Dickson discussed the worldview that the opening chapter of Genesis presents and how that relates to science and ultimately Jesus. Here is what he said:

"One of the key differences between the ancient Pagan way of thinking of, say, the Egyptians or Babylonians, and the Hebrew or biblical worldview is on this question of the orderliness of nature. Pagan creation narratives tended to stress the random, haphazard nature of the physical world. The classic is the Babylonian Enuma Elish, read out loud to the population every Babylonian New Year’s Day in Babylon. It says physical world is an after-thought, fashioned out of wreckage of a war of gods. Tiamat and Apsu—the mum and dad of the gods—go to war against their kids for making too much noise. But mum and dad ended up losing to the young warrior god, Marduk, who fashions the universe out of the bits and pieces of the carnage. The story embodies the common pagan idea that creation is ‘haphazard’ & ‘tainted’: matter is ‘alien’ stuff—accidental, unpredictable, possessed.

If that was your perspective, and you read Genesis 1, you’d be immediately struck by all ways Genesis stresses the beauty, orderliness, and goodness of physical creation. Pagans thought of creation as a kind of ‘war’; but Genesis sees it as a ballet: calm, patterned, graceful. Each creative scene in Gen 1 has 4-fold pattern:

(1) commences with a simple command,

(2) tells of the fulfillment of the command,

(3) includes an elaboration of the command, and

(4) concludes with the day formula, “there was evening, there was morning.” 

The first paragraph sets up the pattern for the rest of the show:

[1. Command] And God said, “Let there be light,” and

 [2. Fulfillment] there was light. 

[3. Elaboration] God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.”

[4. Day formula] And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. (Genesis 1:3–5)

And on it goes through the chapter like a carefully choreographed dance …

There’s a theological point being made here: the universe is not accidental; it’s the work of an orderly mind.  Then there’s the way the days correspond to each other like a canvas to a painting: days 1, 2, 3 are the canvas, days 4, 5, 6 are the painting. It’s hard to picture, so we’ll put an image in the show notes. But basically, day 1 is the canvas to day 4’s painting, Day 2 is the canvas to Day 5’s painting, and day 3 is the canvas to Day 6’s painting. So, On Day 1 ‘light’ itself is created; on Day 4 the actual ‘lights’ of the ‘sun’ and ‘moon’ are put in place. On Day 2 the ‘vault’ of the sky is created along with its counterpoint, the waters of the sea; and on Day 5 the sky is filled with birds and sea is filled with fish. On Day 3 the ‘land’ and ‘plants’ are created; on Day 6 animals and humans are created to walk on the land and enjoy the produce. This deliberately leaves Day 7 hanging, as a day of rest, to reflect on the newly filled canvas of creation.

Then there’s the very interesting comment repeated through the Genesis creation account that God made things “according to their kinds” and, what’s more, that God put certain creative powers in things so that they too could produce things according to their kinds. So, in Gen 1:11 we read:

“Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: [so the land becomes a co-creator with God] seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds …

The point begin made is that the genius of the Creator is imprinted into physical reality, into nature, so that acts with certain aims to produce certain outcomes that reflect God’s intention. There are tons of other ways Genesis makes this point, but the basic idea is that the creation isn’t accidental. It’s ordered and rational and is a functioning whole that acts according to certain rational principles.

It’s a remarkable departure from ancient pagan thinking. It’s true that the best Greek philosophers came to roughly the same conclusion centuries later. Aristotle, for example, (900 years after Moses) said the Forms of things exist within the things themselves. So he would say something like “the form of the oak tree is in the acorn. The form of the adult human is already in the foetus”. And so on. And so nature operates in orderly fashion, following the direction, we might say the equations, that are built into matter itself. All things act according to organising principle inherent in them, which Aristotle called the logos. Behind the logos, he insisted in Metaphysics Book 12 is the MIND, Unmoved Mover, the final cause of all motion and purpose. God!!

What the Jews had been saying for centuries … the Greeks declared by logical deduction. Nature operates according to the principles of rational genius, and the genius behind it all is the Mind of God. This is why John’s Gospel is so happy to employ the Greek philosophical word logos. I talked about this more in an Undeceptions single recently – can’t remember what it’s called – but the basic point is, John says:

“In the beginning was the logos and the logos was with God and the logos was God …”

And then he shocks us with:

“The logos became flesh and dwelt among us!”

In other words, the rational Genius of the creator – the same genius imprinted in creation – actually became a human being, Jesus Christ. Jesus is the logos. Jesus is the genius of creation. John wasn’t alone. Paul says something similar:

“In Jesus all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible … all things have been created through him and for him … and in him all things hold together.”

It’s right to think of Jesus as a first-century Galilean Jew, a historical figure we can investigate with the rules of historical enquiry. But from the beginning, from our earliest documents, Christians were saying much, much more about him. They were saying He is the genius by and through which creation came into being … and, what’s more, He is the ongoing principle that holds them all together in every moment. This is why the first modern scientists all saw their work as a kind of worship. Because when they understood the mathematics of planetary motion or the chemistry by which certain things happen, they are glimpsing the logos, who had a historical name, Jesus. "

An amusing quote from Karl Barth

"But what is involved and meant by that Word is rather and immediately the woe and the salvation which are eternal and thus also temporal, heavenly and for this reason also earthly, coming and therefore already present. By that Word are expressed and declared: woe and salvation to the Europeans and the Asians, the Americans and the Africans, woe and salvation to the poor rigid Communists and woe and salvation to the still poorer (because still more rigid) anti-Communists, woe and salvation to us Swiss as well, to our self-righteousness which is exceeded only by our business acumen, our profound anxiety, our milk and watches, our tourist trade, our narrow-minded rejection of voting rights for women, and our somewhat childish desire for a few choice atomic weapons."

Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction, page 79. 

Life can be like trying to grab hold of vapour

Do you sometimes feel that finding meaning or purpose or happiness or change in your life is elusive? Is it like trying to grasp vapour or smoke?

Do you sometimes feel your efforts for a better life are futile?

You invest time, energy, and money in something such as a hobby, a job, a relationship, a church, an education, a political campaign, or a new place to live.  Sometimes it goes up in smoke. Even if it goes well, it doesn’t deliver what you hoped. This can lead to despair, depression, or cynicism.

Well, it is okay to feel this because there is a book in the Bible that addresses such experiences and feelings. 

It is the book of Ecclesiastes and for the next few months we will be looking at the book in detail, both in the sermons at church and in our community groups.

An old post discusses how Ecclesiastes resonates with how the distinguished theoretical physicist, Steven Weinberg, felt about science, in spite of its grand achievements.

Here is Eugene Peterson's helpful introduction to Ecclesiastes found in The Message.

"Unlike the animals, who seem quite content to simply be themselves, we humans are always looking for ways to be more than or other than what we find ourselves to be. We explore the countryside for excitement, search our souls for meaning, shop the world for pleasure. We try this. Then we try that. The usual fields of endeavor are money, sex, power, adventure, and knowledge.

Everything we try is so promising at first! But nothing ever seems to amount to very much. We intensify our efforts—but the harder we work at it, the less we get out of it. Some people give up early and settle for a humdrum life. Others never seem to learn, and so they flail away through a lifetime, becoming less and less human by the year, until by the time they die there is hardly enough humanity left to compose a corpse.

Ecclesiastes is a famous—maybe the world’s most famous—witness to this experience of futility. The acerbic wit catches our attention. The stark honesty compels notice. And people do notice—oh, how they notice! Nonreligious and religious alike notice. Unbelievers and believers notice. More than a few of them are surprised to find this kind of thing in the Bible.

But it is most emphatically and necessarily in the Bible in order to call a halt to our various and futile attempts to make something of our lives, so that we can give our full attention to God—who God is and what he does to make something of us. Ecclesiastes actually doesn’t say that much about God; the author leaves that to the other sixty-five books of the Bible. His task is to expose our total incapacity to find the meaning and completion of our lives on our own.

It is our propensity to go off on our own, trying to be human by our own devices and desires, that makes Ecclesiastes necessary reading. Ecclesiastes sweeps our souls clean of all “lifestyle” spiritualities so that we can be ready for God’s visitation revealed in Jesus Christ. Ecclesiastes is a John-the-Baptist kind of book. It functions not as a meal but as a bath. It is not nourishment; it is cleansing. It is repentance. It is purging. We read Ecclesiastes to get scrubbed clean from illusion and sentiment, from ideas that are idolatrous and feelings that cloy. It is an exposé and rejection of every arrogant and ignorant expectation that we can live our lives by ourselves on our own terms.

Ecclesiastes challenges the naive optimism that sets a goal that appeals to us and then goes after it with gusto, expecting the result to be a good life. The author’s cool skepticism, a refreshing negation to the lush and seductive suggestions swirling around us, promising everything but delivering nothing, clears the air. And once the air is cleared, we are ready for reality—for God."

As always, The Bible Project video is a short and helpful overview.

The character and disposition of an evangelical theologian

Reading my previous post about Evangelical Theology: An Introduction by Karl Barth may leave the impression that Barth mostly discusses academic theology as an academic discipline in which the theologian strives for objectivity and distances themselves from the object of study. However, the emphasis and perspective of the book is quite different. Much of the book is about the personal character and disposition that an evangelical theologian must have. Theology is personal and practical. It is subjective in that the object of study [the triune God that was revealed in history and recorded in Scripture] places the theologian in "crisis". The theologian is judged, critiqued, and loved by the living Word.

The Table of Contents illustrates how much of the book is about the life of an evangelical theologian.

• Commentary
• I. The Place of Theology
  • The Word
  • The Witnesses
  • The Community
  • The Spirit
• II. Theological Existence
  • Wonder
  • Concern
  • Commitment
  • Faith
• III. The Threat to Theology
  • Solitude
  • Doubt
  • Temptation
  • Hope
• IV. Theological Work
• Prayer
• Study
• Service
• Love

The importance of humility recurs throughout the book. An evangelical theologian must be humble. They cannot operate with presuppositions, dismiss tradition, and or place themself above historical witnesses to God's self-revelation.

"The position of theology,... , can in no wise be exalted above that of the biblical witnesses. The post-Biblical theologian may, no doubt, possess a better astronomy, geography, zoology, psychology, physiology, and so on than these biblical witnesses possessed; but as for the Word of God, he is not justified in comporting himself in relationship to those witnesses as though he knew more about the Word than they. 

 

He is neither a president of a seminary, nor the Chairman of the Board of some Christian Institute of Advanced Theological Studies, who might claim some authority over the prophets and apostles. He cannot grant or refuse them a hearing as though they were colleagues on the faculty. Still less is he a high-school teacher authorized to look over their shoulder benevolently or crossly, to correct their notebooks, or to give them good, average, or bad marks. 

 

Even the smallest, strangest, simplest, or obscurest among the biblical witnesses has an incomparable advantage over even the most pious, scholarly, and sagacious latter-day theologian." (page 31)

Evangelical theology is critical in the sense of being self-critical. All ideas are provisional approximations to the truth and must continually be critiqued and open to revision or discarding. This critical element is quite distinct from the "criticisms" that were fashionable in Barth's time such as historical criticism, source criticism, redaction criticism,... They were methods that tended to become presuppositions and placed the theologian above the text.

Humility for an evangelical theological means that their theology is all about God, not themself or their theology (system, method, content). The last chapter of the book, entitled "Love", contrasts agape love to eros love.

Love as Eros, is, in general terms, the primordially powerful desire, urge, impulse, and endeavor by which a created being seeks his own self-assertion, satisfaction, realization, and fulfillment in his relation to something else. He strives to draw near to this other person or thing, to win it for himself, to take it to himself, and to make it his own as clearly and definitively as possible. And in a special sense, love, as scientific Eros, is the same desire in its intellectual form.

.....Scientific, theological Eros has perpetually oscillated concerning the object which it should present to man for the sake of his self-assertion and self-fulfillment. That is to say, theological Eros can be directed either predominantly (and perhaps even exclusively) toward God or predominantly (and, once again, perhaps even exclusively) toward man. (page 197-8)

 

A narcissist cannot be an evangelical theologian.

The book challenges readers to reflect on their character and disposition if they aspire to be an evangelical theologian. At the beginning of the book, Barth discusses how everyone is a theologian, regardless of whether they identify themselves as such. 

The main weakness of the book is that it does not engage in a concrete and substantive way with the life or teachings of Jesus, such as his parables and the Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps this is because Barth was embedded in the Reformed theological tradition. The book would have a sharper edge if it engaged with Anabaptist tradition. On the other hand, the book provides a wonderful framework, motivation, and invitation to dive into a fresh reading of the Gospels and let the living Word speak to the reader/theologian through the Power of the Holy Spirit.

Karl Barth's evangelical theology

Almost a quarter of a century ago, I first encountered and engaged with the theology of Karl Barth. It blew my mind and invigorated my spirit. Perhaps there were two main reasons why Barth resonated so well with me.

First, Barth seemed to have a deep respect for and appreciation of the Bible (and secondarily the historical Christian faith), without degenerating into a faith or perspective that was uncritical, naive, tribal, or simplistic.

Second, there seemed to be parallels with my scientific/academic mindset. Barth created for me an avenue to constructively engage my mind in my Christian life like what I enjoyed so much in my scientific life.

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. The book is based on lectures that Barth gave in Chicago and Princeton in 1962, during the only visit that he ever made to the USA. You can even listen to a live recording here.

The book is a wonderful entry point to Barth's rich and complex theology.  One measure of the influence of the book on me is that 18 previous posts on this blog consider quotations from the book. There 128 posts that are tagged Barth, more than just a handful of other topics (e.g., books, justice, history, politics,...)!

What does Barth mean by evangelical theology?

Theology is a "science" [wissenschaft = an academic discipline of study] in the following sense.

Theology is one among those human undertakings traditionally described as "sciences." Not only the natural sciences are "sciences." Humanistic sciences also seek to apprehend a specific object and its environment in the manner directed by the phenomenon itself; they seek to understand it on its own terms and to speak of it along with all the implications of its existence. The word "theology" seems to signify a special science, a very special science, whose task is to apprehend, understand, and speak of "God."  (page 3)

The object to study is the triune self-revealing God. In other words, Barth's perspective is that ontology determines epistemology. The method we use to find the truth about an object (epistemology) is determined by the nature of that object (ontology).

The qualifying attribute "evangelical" recalls both the New Testament and at the same time the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Therefore, it may be taken as a dual affirmation: the theology to be considered here is the one which, nourished by the hidden sources of the documents of Israel's history, first achieved unambiguous expression in the writings of the New Testament evangelists, apostles, and prophets; it is also, moreover, the theology newly discovered and accepted by the Reformation of the sixteenth century. 

The expression "evangelical," however, cannot and should not be intended and understood in a confessional, that is, in a denominational and exclusive, sense. This is forbidden first of all by the elementary fact that "evangelical" refers primarily and decisively to the Bible, which is in some way respected by all confessions. Not all so-called "Protestant" theology is evangelical theology; moreover, there is also evangelical theology in the Roman Catholic and Eastern orthodox worlds, as well as in the many later variations, including deteriorations, of the Reformation departure. What the word "evangelical" will objectively designate is that theology which treats of the God of the Gospel. "Evangelical" signifies the "catholic," ecumenical (not to say "conciliar") continuity and unity of this theology. " (page 5).

Evangelical theology is modest, happy, free, and critical.

Photo is of my son reading the book back in 2017.

In passing, I mention a paper that I wrote with Ben Myers is Dialectical Critical Realism in Science and Theology: Quantum Physics and Karl Barth.

With ambivalence and confusion, I should mention that my original Barth enthusiasm is tempered by more recent revelations about his inappropriate relationship with his assistant, Charlotte von Kirschenbaum. This raises thorny questions about how to separate the evaluation of a person's written work from their life. Is such a separation possible, appropriate, or essential?

My church is all about me!

In the past decade, a disturbing list of church leaders has disgraced themselves. Reading about Mark Driscoll, Jonathan Fletcher, Mike Pilavachi, and Steve Timmis, there are common themes in these tragic stories. 

Each individual was a gifted public speaker with a charismatic personality. They were "successful" in the ABCs of church growth (Attendance, Buildings, and Cash). Their initial success began when they were relatively young. Their church/organisation expanded rapidly and they hired a large staff team. Due to their "success" in "ministry" they received global recognition. Institutional structures were created or manipulated so there was limited real accountability.

We now know, that in private the individual was arrogant, condescending, manipulative, and involved in bullying and abuse (verbal, emotional, sexual, spiritual, or financial). This occurred over many years, sometimes decades, despite concerns raised with the individual and those they were nominally accountable to. Within the organisation, there was a culture of enabling or cover-ups. This was rationalised out of fear of the individual or fear of endangering the "success" of the "ministry". People who formally raised concerns within the organisation were fired, expelled, or ostracised. The problem was only finally addressed, and the leader was removed when secular media reported the scandal or there was a threat of lawsuits.

A common theme in these stories may also be that these fallen "leaders" suffer from narcissistic personality disorder and/or that the churches they led suffered from collective narcissism. This is a complex issue and is addressed in the book that we are discussing in the theology reading group this month.

Narcissism Comes to Church: Healing Your Community from Emotional and Spiritual Abuse by Chuck DeGroat

A helpful short review of the book is in the journal Themelios. 

DeGroat is a seminary professor and therapist who has worked for decades with church planting organisations in evaluating candidates. Many anecdotes in the book illustrate his experience trying to clean up trails of destruction left behind by narcissistic leaders. 

The most disturbing thing about the book is captured in the following quotations.

 "[A] 2008 study showed a NPD prevalence of 7.7 percent in men and 4.8 percent in women.... instances of narcissism among pastors are much more common... The rates are even higher among church planters." (pages 7,19) 

“I saw that narcissistic traits were often presented as strengths. Narcissism can be interpreted as confidence, strong leadership, clear vision, a thick skin.” (page 19)

“Their persona may even be interpreted as spiritual giftedness, a personality well-suited to plant an effective church or lead a large ministry or church.”

“grandiosity, entitlement, and absence of empathy characteristic of narcissistic personality disorder was translated into the profile of a good leader.”

DeGroat puts the problems in a broader cultural context, including citing The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations (1979) by Nicholas Lasch.

DeGroat conjectures that  "missional fervour and rise in church planting we’ve witnessed since the 1980s can be correlated with the growing prevalence of narcissism."

Too often the church conforms to the culture it swims in, rather than being counter-cultural, just like Jesus.

Reading about and/or experiencing the vagaries of narcissistic leaders, it is easy to be incensed, indignant, and self-righteous. How could they be such a hypocrite? How could this happen? How could their organisation allow it? Why do so many people flock to churches led by such people?

DeGroat is helpful and challenging because he argues that the problem is not just narcissistic individuals, but organisations that exhibit collective narcissism. Tragically, history shows removing the leader usually does not simply mean that the problems go away.

"Churches are particularly susceptible to ... "collective narcissism" in which the charismatic leader/follower relationship is understood as a given. ... The leader uses polarizing rhetoric that identifies an outside enemy, bringing together leader and followers on a grandiose mission...

“the system often compares itself to others and finds others wanting. The narcissistic system may feature the compelling personality or style of its leader, the strategic nature of its location or mission, the orthodoxy of its doctrine, the authenticity of its worship, the beauty of its liturgy, the integrity of its activism. Those within the system are led to believe that the church down the block isn’t as blessed, special, or faithful.”

pages 23-24

Chapter 6, Understanding narcissistic systems gives a more detailed discussion.

"Perhaps this is about us, an invitation to wake up to the many ways in which certainty trumps curiosity, uniformity trumps unity, hubris trumps humility, control trumps connection, loyalty trumps love."

(page 116)

DeGroat cautions about that labels such as "narcissist" should not be thrown around. Only a professional can make a diagnosis of NPD. Furthermore, 

‘when we diagnose, we are describing a pattern … never a person. All people are unique. Labels, however well intended, cannot do justice to human complexity.’ 

A person is not their diagnosis. Compassion is needed. Narcissists are deeply wounded individuals who live in a deep sense of fear and inadequacy. Compassion includes removing them from leadership positions so they do not hurt others and so they can have the opportunity to face their woundedness and seek healing. DeGroat is not optimistic about this happening but gives a few examples to provide tempered and realistic hope.

I found the book helpful in understanding things I have observed and experiences that I have had over the years. It helped me make sense of patterns I have seen such as entitlement, a sense of superiority, condescension, playing the victim when criticised, making generic vague apologies, hidden addictions and rage, lack of empathy, having an explanation for everything,...

Never tell a narcissist that you think they are a narcissist. If they really are you may be left thinking you are crazy. They will gaslight you. (I actually did not know what gaslighting was until just a few years ago).

“Moreover, when the narcissistic leader is under attack, his response is defensiveness and a victim complex.” (page 22)

“Entitled pastors snap when pricked, however. Even the smallest pinprick of challenge or concern from another leads to defensiveness and self-protective strategies.”

“While anxious churches driven by narcissistic pastors may grow numerically, healthy churches flourish. Do not mistake numerical growth for flourishing.”

“sad abandonment of the humble way of Jesus shows up today in pastors of large and small churches,”

The subtitle of the book is "Healing your Community from emotional and spiritual abuse", but this is only addressed directly in chapter 8, and much of that is anecdotes. That chapter has a subsection, "Healing ourselves" that is only two pages. Nevertheless there is some helpful advice and exhortation.

"Healing requires radical honesty and the courage to follow through on the wilderness path. Perhaps the two most important components of healing trauma are awareness and intentionality... Memories may be repressed, bodily sensations ignored, and feelings and needs disregarded...

"Every healing journey is unique. There is no clear roadmap... We long to control and strategies a journey that can only unfold in its own time." (pages 141-2)

."..you must be relentlessly committed to doing your own inner work, both to protect yourself and others from harm and to engage from a place of centred compassion rather than reactive rage."  (page 163)

The book is not pleasant to read. But, it is a book that needed to be written and needs to be read and taken heed of.

The church is not about me. It is not about my tribe. It is not about the leader. It is about Jesus, the model of a humble servant leader.