Pursuing a supralapsarian soteriology...

Strange that going to an evangelical theological college can make one reconsider one's soteriology--the what and how of salvation. I've long been more tempted by a comprehensive view, claiming that Jesus didn't just come to "save our souls", but so that we might have life in abundance! (cf. Jn. 10:10), not just saving us up for Judgment Day, when we will begin to enjoy life eternal with the Father...but beginning to live out the inaugurated (by the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus) kingdom in the here and now. I guess this thinking is what's known as a supralapsarian (i.e., transcending the Fall) view. Terminology notwithstanding, it still beckons my thoughts and ponderings.

I ran across this paragraph that I think puts it well:
"Both the Bible and church tradition use different words and metaphors to describe and interpret God's mission of kingdom-building: re-captiulation, salvation, conversion, liberation, shalom-ing, reconciliation, transfiguration, etc. None of them should be 'reductive' of mission (RM 17). (Reductive examples: salvation applies only to 'souls', assumptions or only to those who are explicitly committed in faith and discipline to Jesus Christ as the Lord and Saviour; reconciliation, only to human or only to God relationships; liberation, only to political, social or economic conditions, or only to personal sinfulness; transfiguration, only to persons, and not to all cultures, humanity itself, indeed the whole of creation.) 'The kingdom of God is the manifestation and the realization of God's plan of salvation in all its fullness' (RM 15). It is not for us and our words to separate what the Father and the Spirit already hold together in the Word."
- Stransky, T. F., "The Mission of the Church: Post-Vatican II Developments in 'Official' RC Theology," in Evangelical Review of Theology, vol. XXIII, no. 1, Jan. 1999. NB: "RM" = Redemptoris missio, Encyclical Letter of Pope John Paul II, 7 Dec. 1990.

One major pragmatic issue is how we incorporate this comprehensive, holistic soteriology into our common evangel. Certainly, as in the previous post, in part it means living out the life of God's people as the Church.

I'll go on thinking...

Point to Ponder: Missional Ecclesiology

It seems a pragmatic hallmark of evangelicalism is (or can be) the subservience of all aspects of the Christian life to the priority of gospel proclamation, of seeing people "come to faith" or "get saved". It's difficult to question this tenet without opening oneself up to the criticisms of being unbiblical, deluded, or doctrinally unsound - questioning the uniqueness of Christ, the authority of Scripture, etc.

As I continue to be drawn to the study of ecclesiology, however, I feel that such a priority can not only propagate an individualistic and anthropocentric soteriology, it can render the Church less and less meaningful...relegating it, essentially, to being little more than "friends who can help me get the work of evangelism done". When in fact, I might argue that we are severely inhibiting our evangel by not living into our God-given calling to be one holy catholic and apostolic Church: to see our gospel proclamation lived out...not as simply something we must do, but as something we, collectively, essentially are.

But it is good to find allies once in awhile. In some reading I am doing today, I ran across the following thoughtful & helpful paragraph on missional ecclesiology:

"A missional ecclesiology is not a doctrine of the church in which everything is subordinated to a mandate for missionary activity which supposedly precedes, supersedes, and encompasses all community building. Neither does it refer to a theology that places everything that the church is and does under the umbrella concept of missio Dei. It is an effort to reconsider the theological self-definition of the church in the perspective of an emphasized eschatology and in that way to help concrete communities of Christians to relate their identity to their experience of the predicament of pluralism." - Hoedemaker, B. (1999), “Toward an Epistemologically Responsible Missiology,” in Kirk & Vanhoozer, eds., To Stake a Claim: Mission and the Western Crisis of Knowledge (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books), p. 227.

Granted, his last statement needs contextualizing to make more sense of it, but suffice it to say I was encouraged in some of my own ruminations by his assertions. Oh, well...back to it!

Sermon: Unity of the Church

Below is the text for a sermon I gave for preaching class.

Lesson: Ephesians 4:1-16

One. The number is perhaps unmatched in its rhetorical and conceptual power.
One. Mathematically speaking, it is the root of all we can know or surmise, existing as a numerical concept even before “0”.

One. Were we to survey the poetic ponderings, musical musings, and philosophical reflections on this expression of singularity, I would imagine we would find an enormous wealth of speculation as to its nature, its potency, its essence.
One.

And here, in our Scripture passage, the author of Ephesians, seeks to do that which is mathematically paradoxical: through a strikingly eloquent exhortation--“…one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God…”—he seeks to superimpose this one-ness, this singularity, upon that which is, by its very nature, pluralistic: he claims that the Church of Jesus Christ, is meant, ideologically, to be a unity. And this unifying vision saturates the remainder of the epistle.
But many factors war against this vision of unity in the Church. In the first century Near East, factions were manifold: some political, some religious, some ethnic. Embodying all three was the well-known division of Jew and Gentile. Those who bore such labels, even those who were members of the Church in Ephesus, were nonetheless more susceptible, from a human perspective, to division than to unity.
Today, we face challenges similar in poignancy, if not in kind. Our society lauds a spirit of independence and individualism. Differences of race, gender, ethnicity, political affiliation, and yes, even sexual orientation tear at the seams of the Church. We see profound expressions of disunity in the worldwide Church, in our own Anglican Communion, and even very close to home.
And it bears mentioning that our own theology can affect our understanding and practice of unity. Consider carefully the misleading, even if unintentional, emphases embedded within the standard evangelical approach to the Christian life: YOU become a Christian when YOU invite Jesus into YOUR heart, accept him as YOUR Saviour, and make him Lord of YOUR life, thus beginning a PERSONAL relationship with Jesus, and thus YOU are saved. Discipleship, too, is often centred about a PERSONAL “walk with the Lord” and “quiet time”. What is troubling about these emphases is not so much that they are misplaced, but that they are seen as ends, rather than means.
And it is here that Ephesians offers a wider perspective, a farther-reaching theology. While not seeking to minimize the substantial differences between Jew and Gentile, the author of Ephesians works diligently—as we see in chapters 2 and 3—to outline an ecclesiology, a Christology that surpasses these significant schisms in view of a transcendent unity. For he seems desperate not to allow the Ephesian church to remain in the individualistic infancy of their faith.
“Yes, it is true,” he writes, “that Christ has apportioned grace in certain amounts to each of us…and yes, each of us has been given differing gifts but this favour of Christ is operative, meant to be utilized to accomplish God’s purposes: to equip the saints for ministry, to build up the body of Christ in love, to bring the church to maturity, attaining to the fullness of Christ.”
The fullness of Christ: these words cast an astounding eschatological vision. But it is not merely one which is granted to us at the consummation of all things, rather the vision is also an ecclesial vision for the here and now. The author unleashes this vision from his chains, whence he begs the churches of Asia Minor to live a life worthy of the calling they have received. A calling that seems as preposterous and paradoxical as it is profound: that the many should become One.
But if the concept of “One” is poignant in philosophical and mathematical reflection, it is all the more saturated with meaning in theology. “Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is One.” Arguably, what the author of this epistle envisages for the Church is nothing less than this: the indissoluble intimacy of Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, to which he alludes in his “one” rhetoric: One Spirit (v. 4), One Lord (that is, Jesus, v. 5), One God and Father of all (v. 6). And hence, the Church is called to the task
- of reflecting, yet not merely reflecting,
- of portraying, yet not merely portraying,
- indeed, of embodying, of actualizing the mystery of hypostatic union to the world.
And this, this is why the Church in Ephesus is exhorted to live in humility, gentleness, patience, and love. This is why, in the latter half of chapter four, the Church is admonished for living in the old ways of darkened understanding, in futility of mind. This is also why today we must be wary of making our soteriology purely individualistic and moral, for we are, through our election by God the Father before the foundation of the world, through our seal of the promised Holy Spirit, and through our baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ—through all these things—we are inextricably bound to one another in the indissoluble intimacy of the Triune God.

We are One.

And this call to move from individualistic infancy to indissoluble intimacy is the calling we, as the Church, have received. This is the unity of the faith, the knowledge of the Son of God. This is the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.

Scripture in the Community of Faith

An interesting quote I ran across while reading for my long essays lies below. I am becoming increasingly convinced of the primary need of an interpretive community when interacting with scripture, over everyone primarily serving as his/her own hermeneut:

“…All this [he has just talked about scripture in the worship tradition of the Church], then, belongs to what may be called the liturgical use of scripture, rooted in the rich context of corporate worship to which it focally belongs. It is only at this point that the question of the so-called ‘devotional’ use of scripture can be faced. That it is introduced at the end, and not at the beginning, is not accidental. It might seem logical to start discussion with the picture of the individual Christian with the Bible in his hand, but the logic of the Gospel points in other directions. Scripture locates itself at the heart of the Christian community and at the centre of its worshipping life. Its liturgical use remains primary. When the community disperses, the Tradition goes with it, to write new commentaries in individual lives.” Clark, Neville, “Scripture in Liturgical Perspective”, in Gray, Donald, ed., The Word in Season (Norwich: The Canterbury Press, 1988), p. 27.

The spin-offs of this are manifold and fascinating! What does it mean for our evangel? Our soteriology? Our lives of discipleship?

Circuit City comes through

I suppose there are a plethora of blogs out there which have been utilized by disgruntled customers to lambast products and retailers. May I actually offer a recommendation?

Not long after I purchased an HP notebook last year, I found the A/C port was faulty. Being a student in England, I was told HP UK would not touch it, that I'd have to get it fixed in the US. Well, to make a loooong and extraordinarily frustrating story short, I attempted to interact with HP for about 7 months to get the problem resolved. No result.

So, I turned back to Circuit City in Roseville, MN, where I bought the unit and their own extended warranty protection. After patiently listening to my entire story, the store director, called Mark, said to bring the unit in and he'd have one of his techs take a look. The next day, I did so, and a tech named Jason removed about 5,000 screws from it only to discover that the A/C connector was completely fried. The store director knew I am headed back the UK at the end of the month, and didn't have time to go through the 4-6 wk. repair process through HP (he also knew how frustrated I was with them). After some covert chatting with some of his colleagues, Mark returned to me, offering to apply the full purchase value of my HP notebook against a brand-new notebook of anything they had. A sales rep named Chris, who was very helpful, took over. After selecting a Toshiba that is quite obviously an upgrade, and getting the 4-year protection plan, I ended up owing Circuit City a grand total of just over $40.

I couldn't believe the generosity and kindness of the folks at Circuit City. This is customer service at its absolute finest. For anyone reading in the Mpls/St. Paul metro in the market for electronics, please stop in to Circuit City in Roseville. And if you happen to see the store director named Mark, a tech named Jason, or a sales rep named Chris (who was wearing a nametag with "Kurt" on it), mention that you read this blog, and thank them again for me.

Ecclesiology & Women Priests

My friend over at Priests & Paramedics tipped me off to a thoughtful article at pontifications on women priests. I’ve just read the article (pt I, at least) for the first time, but my initial responses, as I rehearse them, seem to be bound around one particular thought, which has less to do with the ordination of women, perhaps, and more to do with the Church:

It should come as given to any Catholic that anyone born into the tradition must accept that what is, as far as the Church is concerned, is what is. While we may be able to speak in ideological terms, if we hold to any expression of a visible Church, it seems we cannot allow ourselves to imagine that the Church is any more or less that what it actually is. Certainly, this was true across “the globe” up until 1054, or perhaps until the early 1500s. But what of now? After 1054, or after 1500, do we accede that the Roman Catholic Church is the “One, True Church”? (It is, after all, popular lingo within Roman Catholic circles.) I guess what I mean is, is only the Roman Catholic Church that which God has intended? Is she the sole keeper of orthodoxy? Although those are not the same question, I believe them to be related, and I find it very difficult to answer “yes” to either. Of course, this raises further questions. How do we find any semblance of an answer to these questions? True, they may not be “Catholic” questions, but that doesn’t do me much good, as I am not a Catholic. Five hundred years of “Protestant” thought has served to shape and mold the philosophical, epistemological, social, educational, etc., etc. context in which I entered life and grew up. And, of course, to say that I must abandon all my “Protestant” thought in order to become a “true Christian” (i.e., member of the One, True Church) seems tantamount to Muslims saying the only way I can really read the Qur’an is to have grown up speaking Arabic.

Let’s face it, though, the Church (and here, I am speaking of many denominations, including Roman Catholicism) has problems. To their credit, Catholics and Orthodox have retained an overall institutional structure (which is needed, in my opinion) that has survived with great integrity. I admire that. But I must also admit that I admire the missional fervor of the Southern Baptists. I admire the Scriptural saturation of many evangelicals. I admire the mystery of Eastern Orthodoxy, the liveliness of Pentecostalism, and the salt-of-the-earth nature of many Lutherans I’ve met. But all of these denominational expressions have severe problems, too. I doubt anyone seriously denies that.

A huge question, for me, then becomes: “how do we map ecclesial change—whether it’s appropriate or inappropriate?” Oh, what a muddled, muddled question. As a “good Anglican”, my default authority structure (inherited as it is) is Scripture, tradition, and reason. And now, finally, coming to the issue of women in the priesthood: you’re right…I’m still considering it. I may always be considering it. Currently, I’m willing to say that it may have been a reform that was long in coming, but was likely made the standard too quickly. I shudder at the rate of change in lots of Protestant denominations around such issues. It could be that it was instituted erroneously, as some would argue it shatters all three legs of my “authoritative stool”. But I have to land somewhere, and, for now, it’s here:

1. I don’t think it violates Scripture. Yes, there are troublesome verses to this stance, to be sure. But I don’t think, applying the same (or very similar) hermeneutical method, that one must consequently be in favor of the ordination of homosexuals (a common argument these days). In fact, if I were mounting a case for homosexual ordination, I don’t think I’d lobby for the same hermeneutical method.

2. Tradition is, admittedly, the toughest of the three for my case. Of course, it is an innovation introduced only in the last half-century. This is the one that most often “keeps me thinking” on this issue. But it should be noted that my cultural context again speaks loads into the way in which I process this information…and my ecclesial cultural context (as well as my ‘secular’ one) was one saturated with women in all sorts of roles formative to my development as a man of faith.

3. Not currently subscribing (totally, at least) to a Roman Catholic understanding of the priesthood, I believe that the ordination of women is actually more reasonable than their non-ordination. Although more discussion is here warranted, I defer to my explanations above for now.

Finally, I would address the two quotes in the article, responding in the way my brain often does, with follow-up questions:
I find Pope John Paul II’s quote interesting, because I still don’t understand the papal role. It seems that in order for him to speak thus, he must have authority over (and thus outside) the whole church. But evidently his authority is enough to make such declarations, but not enough to institute that level of reform. This is puzzling to me, not least because it again insinuates to me that there is no papal accountability to the church. I must be reading it wrong.
I find Fr Alexander Schmemann’s quote puzzling, unless either the “speaking for all Orthodoxy” is incorrect or that the word “dialogues” was only in reference to dialogues on the issue itself, as there continue significant Anglican/Orthodox dialogues into the present day (click here).

Thoughtful and helpful comments are, as always, welcome!

The Holy Father and the Roman Catholic Church

The picture above was taken on a vacation/pilgrimage that friends Adam, Erik, and Abu Daoud, and wife Kendra and I took to Rome last week. The experience has left much on which to reflect. Benedict's message was on Tertullian, and moreover how this Church Father's engagement with "secular" philosophy could be a guide for how we, as 21st-century Christians, can engage with our culture.

But I find myself ruminating more on the essence of the Roman Catholic Church. Help me out, here, readers: I know the Pope is held to be the "Vicar of Peter"...apostolicity incarnate, through succession, tracing back to Christ's institution of Peter as the Rock on which Christ would build his Church.

But what, exactly, is the Pope's relationship to/with the Roman Catholic Church? Is the Pope seen to be the representation of the Church entire? Or merely the apostolic head thereof? Or am I erring greatly in my usage of such terms?

I guess one of the things I'm trying to figure out is how one "evaluates" (yes, a very Protestant way of thinking--see post below) the Roman Catholic Church, perhaps most especially in terms of practice. Does one consider merely the Pope himself? The full magisterium? Clergy and lay persons alike? Some representative cross-section?

These concepts are important to my seeking understanding of the essence of the Roman Catholic Church. Admittedly, I am very much influenced by my Protestant and American bent toward pragmatism (something I'm dealing with in another corner of my mind)...but for the present, it's where I am. Helpful advice welcome!

Anglican thought?

A small group of close friends and I meet every Wednesday night in a local pub to talk theology over a pint of ale. A frequented topic within our discussions is the Catholic/Protestant division(s), a topic (hopefully) quite expected amongst Anglicans. In our discussions, it has become increasingly apparent that said divisions are far from being only dogmatic in nature, but are (or perhaps, have become) manifested in the philosophical/epistemological realm. Often, when one of us makes a point for one side, another will respond, "But you're thinking as a Protestant, not as a Catholic," or vice versa.

For me, as one who is very much hoping that Anglicanism is (or can be) a legitimate Via Media (a sort-of "middle road" between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism), such a realization brings with it definitive points for exploration. What, indeed, does it mean to "think as a Protestant"? as a Catholic? And, significantly, does "Via Media Anglicanism" necessarily fall into one camp or the other, or is there (or can there be) a distinctly Anglican way of thinking? And, of course, how would such a way of thinking be expressed?

It seems that our little group of theologians (and I use that word lightly, at least in my case) have appropriated the usage of the terminology, "a RC/P way of thinking" based on certain methodologies of philosophical development born, at least in part, in denominational dogma regarding specific doctrines, not the least of which being ecclesiology, as well as its role (or lack thereof) in hermeneutics. Can there exist a substantive understanding of these doctrines specific (although perhaps not unique) to Anglicanism?

It seems that a quick glance at the current (highly) politicized debates within the Anglican communion would say, "no". Of the loudest voices on both ends of the debate, there are mainly those who, despite their lip service to the inherent goodness of maintaining unity (which conceptually may prove nonsensical in a Catholic way of thinking, anyway), are quite obviously arguing in a very Protestant manner. And perhaps those (like +++Rowan) who are working hard to maintain a sense of catholicity (note--small "c") about the Communion are incapable of or unwilling to bring to fruition the implications of a more Catholic understanding of ecclesiology.

Giving further weight to the "no" answer is the claim of John Henry Newman's Apologia Pro Vita Sua. While I am only in the midst of my first time through this engaging work, I am well aware that Cardinal Newman's conclusion was that the Via Media was an untenable position, which ultimately led to his conversion to Roman Catholicism.

But some of the parenthetical notations of my first two paragraphs should reveal the quiet hope that I hold: that this time of crisis in the Anglican Communion could eventually be precisely the vehicle for (re-?) establishing a Via Media, most especially in thought. If nothing else, provided there exists an Anglican Church beyond these debates, Anglicans should emerge with a greater--not lesser--sense of who we are. Doctrinal assumptions should become more--not less--nuanced to a particular "standard". And perhaps Anglicans across the globe may have to "opt in" to a particularly Anglican expression of the Christian faith, which, please God, would be actualized in our episcopal structure, in our bishops. Perhaps then we might have the building blocks to a genuinely Anglican way of thinking.

Seem like a long shot? Hmmm...I would say, "More like impossible." But surely my faith in a Lord who rose from the dead teaches me that "impossible" never rules out hope. Hope that is seen is no hope at all.

The Beauty Epidemic

I've been doing a bit of reflecting on beauty. I'm sure there exist volumes upon volumes of much more sophisticated reflections, and even libraries dedicated to aesthetics. But what are blogs for?

It is my firm conviction that beauty exists all around us. Yes, I'm willing to concede that it may be beauty marred by the ugliness of sin, but I would contend that there is still enough of the Creator's hand at work in our world and within us that beauty--real beauty--exists. My reflections, though, turn less on this point and more on how we then interact with this beauty.

I've noted that, for my own part, there are generally two stages that come about. First comes the observation of beauty. Something, be it a sunset, a painting, a recitation of a verse, a piece of music, etc., takes hold of me. But here, already, is my primary problem: I don't know how to appreciate these forms of beauty. Instead of doing whatever it is I now (upon reflecting) feel I should be doing, I move from observation (which often lasts an infinitessimal amount of time) to the second stage, consumption. I want to own it. I want it to be mine. I want to take a picture of the sunset, buy a print of the painting, or a book of the poem, or a CD of the music. I want to be able to access it whenever I want to. In short, I want to control it.

Another problematic aspect of this movement from appreciation to consumption is that it erodes my own sensibilities (if, indeed, I have any) toward what makes something beautiful. Surely, a rareness of occurrence can contribute toward making something more beautiful (e.g. a rainbow). So also must context and circumstance within which the beautiful is encountered play a role. But when I step in to control and dominate beauty, I find I cannot. The photograph of the sunset is never as striking as the real thing. The CD can play, nearly unheeded, not as beauty, but as background noise.

And this can lead to a third stage. The disappointment and perhaps frustration that comes from not being able to consume beauty can lead me to want to destroy beauty. I suppose the (sick) reasoning is that, "if I can't have it, neither should anyone else have it." I can't say that I have moved to this stage often, in fact I struggle to come up with a personal example at the moment. But the pervasiveness in our society of crimes like vandalism, desecration, and even rape speaks loudly to me of this third, consequential stage.

So, my prayer is simply that I would learn how to appreciate beauty. Not to own it, not to control it. Rather, that I would have the sense of mind and peace of spirit to pause, absorb, and give thanks when I am met by beauty. For beauty is, as I see it, an invitation to simply be, a vehicle into wonder, a reassurance that He Who Is Beauty remains.

In memoriam

As Kendra and I are settling back into life in Oxford, we were saddened to hear of the death of my dad's brother, Robert (Bob) Noel Conley. Uncle Bob passed away at about 3:30 PM CST at his home in Clay City, IL on Sunday, 14 January 2007 after a long battle with cancer. I remember Uncle Bob as a good-natured man, always ready with a smile or a joke. He knew how to enjoy life. He loved to tell stories, and to hear them, as well. He loved God, his family, and his country. He has served as the Conley family historian, and even recently put together a wonderful account of his service in the Army during World War II. His family would appreciate your prayers at this time of saying good-bye. Perhaps more especially as Uncle Bob's eldest son's (Mike's) wife, Tracy, is soon to be facing severe treatment for Leukemia.

Uncle Bob, I will miss your stories, your jokes, your fascination with what others would deem "small" things, and your contagious, cackly laughter. Rest in God's peace

Me with Dad (left) and Uncle Bob, enjoying the water from Sailor Springs, IL.