Archive - February, 2010

Paul’s Story of Salvation

I’ve put it off as long as I could, but I’m finally starting to climb Mount Everest (= reading Douglas Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul).

I confess that I’m going into this kicking and screaming–not just because the book is 1180ish pages long, but also because I tend to find Campbell’s representations of views he doesn’t agree with to be disappointing. That is to say, I sometimes find that he’s taken a good swipe at a theory, but that nobody I know who holds to the position he’s engaging actually thinks about their own theory what Campbell is dismissing it for.

I began Deliverance of God with a similar apprehension, as he takes his baby steps toward his argument and outlines what he’s going to be disagreeing with.

But then I found myself more and more resonating with his concerns about how Reformed theology depicts God, justice, and the world, culminating in this marvelous sentence, summarizing what he calls the “justification” position:

“In a very real sense, ethical legislation based on retributive justice is the fundamental structure of the universe, as well as of the divine nature” (17).

I’m not saying I’m fully on board yet; and the reasons Campbell is going to disagree with this sentence are going to raise some red flags for me, but I’m ready to read with him now–because he’s nailed the shortcoming of theology in the Reformed tradition (and probably in the broader Christian tradition as well, though I’ll allow my friends to correct me on that point). The structure of the universe is not law, the story of the universe is not a court drama.

1151 pages to go.

In accordance with federal guidelines, I hereby disclose that I was given a free copy of the book being reviewed in this post. I did not agree to write a review, either positive or negative, in return for the volume. In fact, I didn’t even know it was coming and had already bought my own copy. But that’s another story.

Fruit of the Spirit: the Fruit of Death

I’m spending a little time in the “fruit of the Spirit” this morning, that great list of Christian virtues Paul lays out in Galatians 5: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” I love that self-control is part of the fruit of the Spirit, but that’s another thought for another day.

What I’m working on right now is that this fruit is the fruit of death–the results of being joined together with Christ in his crucifixion.

The starting point is to recognize that this fruit is set in contrast with the works of the flesh in the previous verses: sexual immorality, idolatry, witchcraft, disputing and factions, drunkenness and the like. The Spirit and the flesh represent the powers of the “present evil age” and “the age to come”–the latter having broken in with Jesus’ death and resurrection.

And so when Paul gets through with his description of the fruit, he insists: “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” Co-crucifixion with Christ means that we have put to death the old humanity, died to the age gone by, and are thereby given new life by the Spirit of Christ’s resurrection. The fruit of our death to the old self? The fruit of the Spirit.

Co-crucifixion, dying with Christ, is the transformative means by which we become capable not only of faith but “faith working through love” (Gal 5:6).

From Resurrection to New Creation

Michael Pahl has a new book out over at Wipf and Stock, From Resurrection to New Creation: A First Journey in Christian Theology.I had a chance to read it along the way. It is a fantastic intro to Christian theology. If you’re charged with doing a “Christianity 101″ course in your church, this is the place to go.

Check out these endorsements (some of which are more sketchy than others…):

“In this clear and compelling introduction to Christian theology, Michael Pahl explains the biblical roots and practical significance of the most important Christian convictions. He rightly directs our attention to God’s resurrection of the crucified Jesus as the center of Christian faith and practice. Readers will come away both informed and inspired.”
—Michael J. Gorman
St. Mary’s Seminary and University

“This is the way to do theology, as rooted in Story, God’s own Story that emerges with yearning for resolution at the time of Jesus and which only Jesus Christ resolved. Theology has too often lost sight of this Story, but Michael Pahl’s book calls us back once again to the Bible and to the earliest theologians’ way of doing theology-let the gospel story be told and let that Story shape how we understand theology.”
—Scot McKnight
North Park University

“Michael Pahl profoundly grasps what too many Christians miss: that the death and resurrection of Jesus transforms everything. Carefully interpreting these events and their relationship to other areas of Christian faith, From Resurrection to New Creation shows us how the entire story of God, humanity, and the cosmos can only be rightly read in light of Jesus’ saving work. This book is remarkable for its breadth of biblical engagement, its incisiveness of theological perception, and its lucid and accessible prose. Those taking a first journey in Christian theology could ask for no better guide.”
—Daniel Kirk
Fuller Theological Seminary

“A splendid little book that explores the essentials of Christian theology in a fresh, lively, and insightful manner. By beginning with the resurrection, Pahl is able to make a point about both the center of Christian theology and how to do theology in a way that takes seriously the New Testament’s historical context. Highly recommended!”
—David M. Miller
Briercrest College

iPad Nano

That Violence Thing Isn’t Important Now, Is It? Er….

Thanks to my good friends on Twitter, I was alerted to an article in today’s New York Times about churches putting on their own mixed martial arts as an outreach tool. Sketchy, but I get it.

Then comes the problem. The big problem. These aren’t being treated as gateway events to get people to hear a fundamentally different message, they’re being used to connect people to a “Jesus” whose “gospel” is embodied in the fighting of the mixed marshal arts.

The article quotes a pastor as saying: “Compassion and love — we agree with all that stuff, too,” said Brandon Beals, 37, the lead pastor at Canyon Creek Church outside of Seattle. “But what led me to find Christ was that Jesus was a fighter.”

Yes, that’s what led the disciples to follow him too–all the way to Jerusalem. And what they, at the end, had to discover was not what Jesus came for. The battle and warfare imagery is transmogrified as violence and fighting are shunned (Peter, put away that sword!) and salvation is brought not by beating the crap out of the oppressors, but by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross.

Why is narrative theology so important? Because the story tells us that the way of our salvation (self-giving love so that others might live) is the story we’re called not only to assent to but also to embody. “Take up your cross and follow me,” says Jesus. “Those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires,” says Paul. Oh, and we might elaborate that these desires include the rage, factionalism and the rest that go into being an ultimate fighter.

The story of the cross suggests to me that the collision of “Feet, Fist, and Faith” is no gospel at all. These ultimate fighting feet are not the feet that don’t kick, but find themselves washed. These fighting  fists are not Messianic, but Roman: the fists in Jesus’ story strike the Messiah without retaliation. This faith is not the faith of Jesus Christ that is obedience in death so that others might live.

Yeah, the Story is that important. And yeah, they’re getting the gospel that wrong.

Funding Opportunity in Ireland

FYI:

DOMINICAN BIBLICAL INSTITUTE , LIMERICK, IRELAND in association with
Mary Immaculate College, UNIVERSITY OF LIMERICK, seeks applicants for
two scholarships to be awarded to suitably qualified candidates,
beginning Sept 2010. The first is for a PhD on: The Transformation of
Scripture in 1 Corinthians. The amount of the scholarship is €15,000
per year plus fee waiver, for three years of full-time study. The
second is for a one-year Post-doctoral fellowship on: Gospel Origins:
The Case for Proto-Luke (rather than Q). This scholarship is oriented
to publication and provides €25,000 for one year of full-time study.
For further information, contact Thomas Brodie, email:
thomasbrodie@eircom.net, tel. 353 (0)61 – 490 605.

Inhabiting the Cruciform God (Part 3: Theosis?)

Since one of my readers/FB friends guilted me into taking responsibility for the fact that theosis is a huge them of Michael Gorman‘s Inhabiting the Cruciform God, I will deal with it in this final post on the book. I was intending to not deal with it because the other two issues (justification and non-violence) are more in my everyday world of wrestling with Paul. And it’s my blog. But, it’s Mike’s book, and the subtitle is “Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology,” after all, so here we go.

I’ll start with what I think is the strongest element of Gorman’s discussion of theosis. The emphasis on theosis (becoming like God) is derivative of Paul’s insistence that we are saved by participation in the death and resurrection of Christ. The Christian call to be “Christ-like” is the call to become conformed to the narrative that moves through the cross to the resurrection. So when Gorman speaks of “theoformity” or “theosis,” he is talking about a God who is made known in the death and resurrection of Jesus, not a vision of God detached from this world, whose identity is expressed in transhistorical categories. He is painting a picture of conformity to what I would call the story-bound God of the Bible.

Gorman argues that Paul understands theosis like this: “Theosis is transformative participation in the kenotic, cruciform character of God through Spirit-enabled cruciformity to the incarnate, crucified, and resurrected/glorified Christ” (7). I resonate deeply with the notions that God is known most fully in the Christ-event (kenotic = emptying, as in Christ’s self-emptying in Phil 2; cruciform = cross shaped), and that our lives are to be conformed to the image of the crucified Christ.

There’s one point at which I’m more cautious about theosis as Gorman describes it, and it has to do with the concern that Jesus as God is performing a function that in Paul is more often played by Jesus as quintessential human: second and last Adam. On pp. 6-7, Gorman lists a number of passages that are often associated with theosis, none of which in my estimation are speaking of becoming Christlike in the sense of Christ’s divinity, but Christlike in the sense of Jesus’ inauguration of a new humanity.

  • Romans 8:29 speaks of being conformed to the image of the son. This is the sonship that Jesus has as a result of his resurrection (Romans 1:4), the sonship that makes Jesus Davidic king / true Adam: his enthronement to the right hand of God.  Yes, to be truly human is to be God-like, renewed after the image of God in which we were created, but is this what is meant by “theosis”?
  • 1 Corinthians 15:42-49 is to the same effect: we’ve born the image of the earthly man, we’ll also bear the image of the heavenly. This is about Jesus as last Adam. Again, humans were created in God’s image, but this seems to be more about anthroposis than theosis.
  • 2 Corinthians 3:18 speaks of being transformed into the image of God from glory to glory. The idea of “new creation” is in view here as well: it’s God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness who has shone in our hearts…” the new image comes as part of new creation.
  • 2 Corinthians 5:17, 21: “If anyone is in Christ–new creation!” Again, being creation is about being truly human once again. To be truly human is to be in God’s image and therefore revelatory of God’s image. But is this what Gorman means by theosis?

Throughout, I felt that the idea of theosis leaned most heavily on Jesus being divine, whereas such passages as these gain their traction from the resurrected Jesus being the firstborn of a new/renewed humanity. I agree that Jesus reveals God, and that the cross is the revelation of God for Paul, but I’m not sure that Paul means it with all of the same ontological identification that Gorman seems to lean on. Put more simply: I found Gorman more ready to bring the church’s understanding of Jesus as fully divine to bear on his Pauline exegesis than I am, and I wonder if this hasn’t caused some of the “humanness” of Jesus to be downplayed or even replaced by the divinity? I like much of what he’s saying, but I’m cautious about going whole hog on this as a reading of Paul.

And there’s one point at which I disagree. In the last chapter, Gorman states almost against his will that theosis is the center of Paul’s theology. I say “against his will” because he isn’t entirely happy with the idea of a “center” (171). Though I agree that, as Gorman defines it, theosis might rightly be trumpeted as the center of Paul’s soteriology, this is not the same as to say that it is the center of Paul’s theology in general. I think this is an important distinction. Though such narrative participation is certainly at the heart of what it means to be joined to Christ, it is that Christ event itself rather than a model of how we participate in it, that is the center of Paul’s theology.

The Christ event itself, not our participation in it, determines how Paul reads  scripture, how he identifies the one true and living God, how God will act not only in the lives of Christians but even in the life of Israel–in addition to what our lives should look like. I don’t think participation is “big enough” to cover all that Paul says, but the surprising event itself not only covers how Paul understands the participatory and transformative nature of the event but also the broader contours of the story within which we who are jointed to it live and move and have our being.

So in general, I like where Gorman is going and think that his focus on theosis has drawn a number of important dynamics of Paul’s narrative soteriology to light. But I’m not quite ready to jump on the theosis train yet. Of course, Mike has plenty of time to teach me why I’m wrong…

(Dislaimer: I received a gratis copy of Inhabiting the Cruciform God from the good folks at Eerdmans publishing company)

Which Cross?

Building a little on yesterday’s post about non-violence and the story of the cross, here’s a bit from Jürgen Moltmann that embodies a similar theology of the cross:

“Like the kingdom of Christ, the kingdom of Constantine began with a cross; but it was not the cross of Golgotha. It was the dream cross that promised him ‘In hoc signo vinces’-‘in this cross you will conquer’. With Constantine’s victory over Maxentius in 312, the martyr cross of Christ became a sign of imperial victory.”[1]

The question I’m wrestling with today is whether or not there is a Christian hermeneutic sufficient to keep us from giving such gospel-undermining interpretations of even the very images of the gospel that we’re invoking. Is there a way to tell and interpret the story of what makes us Christians that can keep us from baptizing a Constantinian settlement, from sending people on crusades, from biblically undergirding institutions such as slavery?

Does Paul’s narrative soteriology offer us a way forward? I think it does.


[1] Jürgen Moltmann, The Coming of God: Christian Eschatology (trans. Margaret Kohl, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 162.

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