by Steve | Mar 3, 1995 | Archive - 1995
Archive: Whatever Happened to Heresy
By Riley B. Case
The dictionary defines heresy as “opinion held in opposition to commonly received doctrine, and tending to promote division or dissension.” Mention of heresy is off-limits among many United Methodists. It would seem to be, well, unloving and suggests we are not nice people.
But the blacklisting of the word heresy is also a sign of our theological impoverishment. If we begin to believe that there is no such thing as heresy, are we not assuming that: (1) we have no commonly received doctrine, (2) doctrine does not matter, or even if it does matter, the new opinions being expressed are not really in opposition to it, or (3) the real division or dissension is in bringing the matter up in the first place.
Let us examine these assumptions more closely:
1. Perhaps we can no longer speak meaningfully about “commonly received doctrine.” In a time of pluralism and multiculturalism, perhaps it is restrictive and presumptuous—if not downright intolerant—to assign significance to a core of doctrine.
Does not doctrine divide? Does it not tend toward exclusivism? Is no exclusivism the opposite of everything the gospel—if the gospel is defined as “post-modernist multiculturalism”—stands for? Are there not many traditions, each worthy of respect? There is a tradition for men and one for women, one for the Western world, one for the Eastern world. There is an Hispanic tradition and an African-American tradition. There is an evangelical tradition and a liberal tradition. And if there is not one tradition but many, does that not imply there is not one truth, but many truths? If so, our United Methodist doctrinal standards should be seen “in context” (another way of saying they do not matter). They may tell us where we have been, but not where we are or where we ought to be going.
Therefore, in the spirit of modernity and without the least bit of apology, our “church-related” schools have begun worshipping at the idol of academic freedom—which among other things—means no religious tests. It would violate the sacred law of the academy if one were asked to adhere to any kind of Christian teaching. Doctrinal boundaries, standards, or restrictions, or even the idea that such things exist, must yield to creativity, modern experience, new formulations, and freedom to express whatever and whoever and however one wishes. Values and beliefs become little more than preference. Nothing that we claim together is so vital to us that it cannot be compromised, traded away, reimagined, redefined, reinterpreted or denied for the sake of expediency, creativity, ideology, or convention. Somewhere in the maze there may be a least common denominator that binds United Methodists together, but we cannot agree what it is, or who should tell us what it is.
In this sort of post-modern climate the H-word is not a protector of truth, but a hindrance to the search for truth.
2. Even if there may be such a thing as commonly received doctrine, can we not argue that other expressions seemingly in opposition are merely new ways of saying the same thing?
The key here is to understand how language functions. Since God is not limited by our words, truth is beyond all our expressions of it, and language is metaphorical—our doctrinal formulations are at best only suggestive. According to many well-meaning United Methodists, we ought to be open to different ways of expressing the same truth.
Thus we can speak of God incarnate in Jesus Christ, of the preaching of the cross and the power of God, of justification and atonement for sin. But without any sense of inconsistency we can also pray to Sophia, name our own God, talk about the God who allows a son to suffer on the cross as guilty of divine child abuse, and argue that Jesus is not really unique because there is salvation in all religions. If such opinions seem to be in conflict we will seek to understand each other and resolve the differences through dialogue, conflict management, conversation, and new studies.
In this way of viewing things, nothing really is denied; all is affirmed. The key word is inclusive. We can confess the ancient creeds but always in a way that no one is offended, and words mean whatever we want them to mean.
So we say:
“I believe (not to imply that others’ beliefs are not also valid) in God (as imaged in my mind) the Father (or some more inclusive substitute) Almighty (but not in any absolutist sense), maker (or creative energy or life force or whatever ) of heaven (poetically speaking) and earth (though not to suggest any form of dualism or separateness from the Divine).
“And in Jesus (as interpreted through the eyes of “modern scholarship”) Christ (a divine principle) his (or a more inclusive substitute) only (if not understood in any exclusivist sense) son (in the same way we are all sons or daughters) our (not intending to be demeaning to anyone who might not feel included) Lord (if it does not suggest a hierarchical relationship) … ”
In the inclusivist, monistic climate, opinions held in opposition are not really in opposition after all. All is absorbed. Thus prayers, hymns, and homage to Sophia turn out to be not really Sophia worship after all. She who is called a she and a goddess, is not really a she or a goddess after all, but only a metaphor for the triune God we all love. If we don’t care for what a word suggests (such as atonement), we simply redefine the word so that it is acceptable.
Thus, we protect one of the cardinal virtues of modernity: absolute tolerance, meaning that anything—no matter how bizarre—should be considered as acceptable, indeed, should be celebrated in the ongoing search for truth.
In such a climate, the H-word is to be considered not only inappropriate, but disallowed. It is a violation of the spirit of the age. It is to be judged as judgmental and not tolerated because it is intolerant.
3. The logical consequence of declaring heresy inappropriate is to conclude that if there is division or dissension in the church, it is not because of heresy, but because of heresy-hunters.
In former times it seemed logical that bishops, seminary professors, and church leaders would defend our commonly held doctrine against contrary opinions which would divide and cause dissension. No more. If there is a problem in the church, it is with those who argue that seminary professors, bishops, and church leaders ought to defend the doctrine. The problem is not with heretics, but with witch-hunters. It is not with blasphemy, but with those so narrow-minded they believe blasphemy exists.
One might suppose that when division and dissension is disallowed in the name of tolerance, creativity, “new winds of the spirit,” experiences, new paradigms, or whatever else is invoked as an excuse for heterodoxy, a sense of unity would prevail in the church.
The opposite, however, is true. In such a climate there is no center—there is no glue. It is hard to find common ground even for conversation. Without a common score, the voices cannot produce harmony, but merely a babel of sounds. “Unity” would imply there is some kind of covenant, shared beliefs, or values to which—with some seriousness—we have pledged ourselves. But how would such a covenant be defined today. At one time, our covenant was based around what John Wesley called the “essentials” (“In essentials, unity…”), but that covenant has been discarded.
A denomination is surely meant to be more than a common name and an apportionment system! The frequently-heard pep talks about all that holds us together have quite a hollow ring. In the words of Hans Christian Anderson: the emperor has no clothes. We pretend something that is not there. Without the H-word, boundaries are not boundaries, standards are not standards, confessions are not confessions, and unity is not unity. We divide into caucus groups, interest groups, and social groups; then conduct tribal warfare. This is not a coming together as a church, but a splintering.
Restoring the H-word in itself is not the answer, of course. The answer is to gather around Jesus Christ, the cornerstone that can bring us together. When we are committed to him in obedience to his word, we will find focus for ministry and direction as a church. We will become so bold that the H-word will no longer be an embarrassment for us.
Riley B. Case is pastor of St. Luke’s United Methodist Church in Kokomo, Indiana. He is also a Good News board member and a contributing editor to Good News magazine.
by Steve | Mar 2, 1995 | Archive - 1995
Archive: Fasting Unto God
By Barbara V. Meyers
Christians everywhere are entering the 40 days before Easter called Lent. What do these weeks in the church year mean to us today? If we think of it at all, the answer would probably involve abstaining from certain foods. But to many, giving up desserts and sweet snacks is little more than a convenient stimulus to help them lose weight. I can remember giving up desserts and coffee one Lent, and then the utter ecstasy of biting into cherry pie a la mode for Easter dinner. But what has that got to do with our faith? Very little, unless the withholding of food is done as a small but conscious act of participation in Christ’s own sacrifice.
Historically, fasting has been a part of the celebration of Lent since 340 A.D., when Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, suggested that it be used to commemorate Jesus’ experience in the wilderness. It was not a new idea, for fasts occurred frequently in biblical days. As early as the time of the Judges, the people of Israel came to “fast and weep before the Lord” after they had been beaten in battle. This probably was an act of mourning and repentance that might shield the people against greater disaster. Sometimes a fast was called for the purpose of intercession. Esther, for example, asked all the Jews in Susa to fast on her behalf before she went in to the king with her plan to save her people. In the late Old Testament period, the fast seems to have emerged as a means of personal spiritual cleansing and illumination as we see in the book of Daniel.
This latter reason for fasting seems to have been the purpose for Jesus’ encounter with solitude. His experience seems to show us that true fasting means not only a respite from too much food, but also a separation of ourselves from anything that severs our contact with God. Jesus fasted from people, from work, and from sleep, as well as from food. Let’s think about each of his ways of fasting as they apply to life today.
By abstaining from food in the wilderness Jesus became more sensitive to things of the spirit. Whoever goes on a diet experiences this in a small way. It has been said that “no one ever became aware of his need for God on a full stomach.”
Psychologist Fritz Kunkel wrote that we need to fast to become aware of our shortcomings. If a person is quick-tempered, overly sensitive or irritable, lack of food will make it more apparent. Just as a whining dog can be silenced by plentiful food, so can the awareness of our defects be lulled by a full plate.
“All evil,” wrote Kunkel, “must become manifest before we can alter it into something positive.” This applies, not only to character faults, but to the tragedies of life that come to everyone. Whenever they come, they are our wilderness periods. When I was in great grief, a wise man said to me, “Don’t resist the pain. Say, ‘go ahead and hurt.’ But don’t stop there. Also ask, ‘Lord, what do you want me to learn from this?'” This kind of supplication never fails to reveal a lesson that needs to be learned.
Alone on the mountain without food, Jesus learned what it was like to be tempted with ideas of wealth and power. He also experienced the strength of the powers of darkness.
Lent is a time when we choose to look at ourselves as we really are; to acknowledge the sin God already knows about, and to seek and accept his forgiveness; then to press on toward more perfect lives.
A first Lenten discipline might be, therefore, a simplification of the diet, a purposeful leanness that we might worship God more intensely so that he may speak to ears that hear and hearts that are willing to learn.
Jesus’ fast on the mountain was also from people. Francis Line, in Sheep, Stars and Solitude, says that “no one with Jesus’ powers and relation to God could spend 40 days alone with the solitude and stars of the desert without receiving such a glow of new life that would change the world.”
We are essentially a gregarious people. We are told “to talk out a problem.” But again Kunkel warns, “our mouths create a leakage through which we relieve our inner pressure and prevent the spiritual explosion and beginnings of a new life.” Picture Judas on the mountaintop with Jesus. He might have tried to talk him out of his work of love. Instead, the Son talked to his Father and came to a victorious conclusion, just as later he came to an even greater victory in Gethsemane alone in prayer.
Everyone has had experiences in which they have wasted the very power that would have caused growth. A friend and I were interested in prayer and hungrily read everything anyone recommended on the subject, telephoning one another to share each new idea. Yet neither life was changed. One day, a third person, overhearing bits of the conversation, asked, “Why don’t you stop talking and start praying?” The “leakage” was stopped; a prayer group was formed; and a quiet time was set aside each day. The Spirit was able to do his work and lives were changed.
A conscious quietness, a turning to Christ within quiet meditation, could be a second Lenten discipline.
Jesus also fasted from busyness. If he had stayed in his normal routine after the Jordan experience there would have been work to do in the carpenter shop, yokes to be fitted, and tables to plane. But, by withdrawing into the silence he could give his Father his full attention. Later, when pressed on every side by the multitude, Jesus said to his disciples, “Come with me, by yourselves, to some lonely place where you can rest quietly” (Mark 6:31). Modern disciples, too, need to withdraw frequently from the busyness of the world and go to their Mount Solitary.
An honest reexamination of one’s daily schedule may well bring about a plan for pleasant periods of rest, and a deliberate slashing of the social calendar is sure to afford welcome oases of quiet for meditation. This is a possible third discipline for the Lenten season.
Perhaps part of our allotted sleeping time needs to be set apart to seek God. Jesus fasted in this way. The accounts of his wilderness experience mention both days and nights. Later on in his ministry, the Gospels record that “Jesus went out into the hills to pray, and spent the night praying to God” (Luke 6:12). Sleep, if overindulged in, can be an escape from reality equal to alcohol addiction. Who has not experienced feeling utterly weary on the day there is something unpleasant to be faced, in contrast to bouncing out of bed completely refreshed when there are happy plans to be carried out?
People in all walks of life are discovering the strength that comes from early morning prayer. A mother of six growing boys excused herself early from a party one Friday evening by saying, “I must rise early tomorrow to pray. The children will be home all day and I will need all the patience and help I can get.”
The late Dr. Frank Laubach prayed from three until five o’clock each morning to have the inspiration and strength with which to carry on his work of world-wide literacy. He said, “An hour of prayer is better than an hour of sleep.” This fourth Lenten discipline is the most important.
The story is told of a scientist who determined to find out for himself whether it was true that Pyrenees caterpillars always follow each other around. To do this he placed several of them on a revolving disc with their favorite food of pine needles in the center. For seven days and seven nights they walked, one behind the other around the circle—finally dying of starvation rather than breaking ranks to get at the food so near them.
Many of us can see ourselves in this little parable. The hunger of the spirit may be as intense as the desire for food, but the functioning of the soul does not continue on “automatic” as the process of breathing or the beating of the heart. The spirit depends upon contact with God for its impetus. Dare we break rank from the patterns that bind us, fast unto God, and reach him who is the Bread of Life?
Lent is a good time to try.
Barbara V. Myers was a free-lance writer, United Methodist pastor’s wife, and missionary in Singapore. She passed away in 1989.
by Steve | Jan 21, 1995 | Archive - 1995
Archive: Redefining Humanity
Crossing the threshold of embryo experimentation
by Richard John Neuhaus
A panel of 19 experts appointed by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) has recommended federal funding for conceiving human embryos in the laboratory for the purpose of subjecting them to experiments that will destroy them. One confidently expects that most people, upon hearing such a proposal, experience an immediate and strong recoil. That recoil should not be discounted as an irrational reaction. It may signal a deep, intuitive awareness of lines that must not be crossed if we are to maintain our sometimes fragile hold upon our own humanity.
The Washington Post terms the proposal “unconscionable,” and hastens to distance this issue from abortion, noting that support for abortion does not mean “erasing society’s ability to make distinctions.” Creating, using and destroying human embryos cannot be entirely separated from the question of abortion, but one hopes that many who do not oppose legalized abortion will take a stand against this new proposal.
The report of the NIH panel readily acknowledges that we can answer the question of when the life of a human being begins. Science leaves us no choice: It begins at conception. The embryo from the very beginning, we are told, deserves “serious moral consideration,” “moral respect,” “profound respect,” and “some added measure of respect beyond that accorded animal subjects.” Scientists agree that from the earliest moments the embryo has the capacity to articulate itself into what everyone acknowledges is a human being. If someone objects that, at 5 or 15 days, the embryo does not look like a human being, one has only to point out that this is precisely what a human being looks like at 5 or 15 days of development.
Having acknowledged that human life is at stake and that some respect must be paid, the NIH panel has the difficult task of explaining why it is morally right to produce lives in order to use them for lethal experiments. After all, it is one of the most cherished maxims of our civilization that human beings are always to be treated as ends and never merely as means.
The critical questions posed by this proposal are not narrowly scientific. They are ethical and philosophical. The conceptual framework at the center of the panel’s reasoning is that of “personhood.” It switches the question from “When does the life of a human being begin?” to “When does a human being become a person?” Persons, under this construct, are “protectable .” Non-persons or those who are something less than persons are “not protectable.” And how do we decide which human beings are persons and which are not? The report says that “the commencement of protectability is not an all-or-nothing matter, but results from a being’s increasing possession of qualities that make respecting it (and hence limiting others’ liberty in relation to it) more compelling.” More compelling, that is, to those who have the power to decide.
“Personhood” is a venerable concept in theology and philosophy. It is not a scientific concept. As used by the NIH panel, it is an ideological concept in the service of a program aimed at changing dramatically our civilization’s understanding of human life and community. The panel does not shrink from admitting that its “conceptual framework” is revolutionary. In the panel’s view, personhood is a social status that we, who are certified persons, bestow. We decide who will and who will not be admitted to the circle of those who are recognized as persons and are therefore entitled to respect and protection. As protectability increases with an “increasing possession of qualities” that we find compelling, so it follows that protectability decreases with the decreasing possession of such qualities. The conceptual framework embraces the born as well as the unborn.
On behalf of its view, the panel cites approvingly an article by Prof. Ronald Green of Dartmouth, himself a member of the panel, “Toward a Copernican Revolution in Our Thinking About Life’s Beginning and Life’s End.” The article asserts that there are no “qualities existing out there” in any human being that require us to respect him or her as a person.
Bestowing personhood, and hence the right not to be harmed or killed, is “the outcome of a very active and complex process of decision on our part,” according to Mr. Green. In the current language of the academy, personhood is entirely a “social construct.” Whether someone is too young or too old, too retarded or too sick, too useless or too troublesome to be entitled to personhood is determined by a “decision on our part.” Thus we move from embryos in the laboratory to a “Copernican Revolution” in our understanding of human dignity and human rights.
Unfortunately, the American people have not been consulted about, and certainly have not consented to, this revolution. The panel recognizes, however, that this revolution is necessary in order to license, morally and legally, the research that it recommends. How else can you rationalize the abandonment of the principle that human beings are always to be treated as ends and never merely as means?
The report makes much of the “pre-implantation embryo” (implantation in the womb is usually completed by the 14th day after conception). After implantation “a greater measure of respect” is due the embryo, it says. In question, however, for the purposes of the NIH experiments are not pre-implantation embryos but human embryos produced with the intention that they will never be implanted and can therefore be kept alive and experimented upon as long as they are scientifically useful.
In addition, the report makes much of a human being’s “potential for further development.” An embryo that does not have such potential is not protectable, it is argued. Here the reasoning is utterly circular: An embryo is not protectable because it has no potential for further development, and it has no potential for further development because, having determined that it is not protectable, researchers will not permit it to develop further. The ominous questions engaged by the panel deserve more serious thinking than that.
Freezing embryos that are genetically identical to born children in order to use them as a later source for organ transplants, cloning existing human beings, making “carbon copies” of embryos—these and other projects are said to be “inappropriate.”
What is the reason the panel offers why these and other things should not be done and should not be funded by the government? “Throughout its deliberations, the panel relied on the principle that research … is acceptable public policy only if the research promises significant scientific and therapeutic benefits.” Elsewhere we are told that exceptions to the limits proposed should be made only “for serious and compelling reasons.”
The panel claims not to be imposing a philosophy or moral judgment. The claim is false. The philosophy is ordinarily called utilitarianism. Admittedly, the panel’s is a strikingly primitive and vulgar form of utilitarianism, but from that philosophy it derives the moral judgment that the end justifies the means. If there are “serious and compelling reasons,” it seems the end justifies any means.
The panel also arrogates to itself the political responsibility “to arrive at a reasonable accommodation to diverse interests.” That, one might suggest, is the task of politicians and legislatures. Moreover, far from accommodating what it calls “widely different views” on the questions addressed, the panel excluded views other than its own. The chairman announced at the first meeting that it would be “inappropriate” to have people on the panel who oppose the research proposed. As though that were not enough, some of those on the panel were in fact recommending federal funding for their own work. When does an advisory panel become a lobbying group?
Absent vigorous intervention by Congress and public opinion, we are crossing a threshold from which, in all likelihood, there will be no return.
Richard John Neuhaus is the editor-in-chief of First Things: A Monthly Journal of Religion and Public Life (156 Fifth Avenue, Suite 400, New York, NY 10010). Reprinted with permission of The Wall Street Journal C 1994: Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
by Steve | Jan 11, 1995 | Archive - 1995
Archive: Who Do You Say That I Am?
By David R. Bauer
Within the last several years there has been a heated discussion regarding the influence of feminist theology within the United Methodist Church. That was highlighted last year with the Women’s Division’s involvement in the controversial “Re-Imagining” Conference. This makes a theological book such as Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew: “Who Do You Say That I Am?” all the more important, especially when the discussion focuses in on Christology—the person and work of Jesus Christ.
Who Do You Say That I Am? was prepared for individual and group Bible study for the Women’s Division. Nancy A. Carter, the principal author, is an elder in the UM Church and has served as editor of program resources for the General Board of Global Ministries. Leontine T.C. Kelly, who made contributions to the book, is a retired bishop.
Since the book attempts to lead the reader to “see how you have experienced God’s Presence in the past and have a vision of God’s Continuing Presence in your life and in the lives of all humanity” through the Gospel of Matthew, it must be judged on the basis of its theological congruence with the text of Matthew’s Gospel.
The book is a strange amalgam of helpful insights and misleading and wrongheaded theological assertions. The authors offer helpful insights at those points where they draw upon the work of significant New Testament scholars like Raymond Brown and Jack Dean Kingsbury. Yet the work is fundamentally flawed, because they ultimately refuse to accept the point of view of Matthew regarding the nature of revelation. They opt, instead, for a view of revelation that reflects classic nineteenth-century liberalism (which is very much alive in certain portions of mainline Protestant churches) and even certain post-modem “New Age theology.”
According to Matthew’s perspective, God has perfectly revealed himself (which involves also truth regarding ourselves and our world) in the historical manifestation of Jesus Christ in fulfillment of Old Testament Scripture, as Jesus is presented on the pages of the Gospel. There are several characteristics of God’s revelation, according to Matthew.
- God’s revelation is Christocentric (i.e., Jesus-centered) to the point that all that Jesus says and does perfectly reveals God and God’s will. In narrative-critical terms, Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel is entirely “reliable.”
- God’s revelation is historical in that the historical events in the life of Jesus as they are recorded in Matthew’s Gospel form the only true basis for understanding who Jesus is, who God is, who humans are, and what God expects of humans. In other words, all human experience is to be interpreted and judged by the historical manifestation of God in Jesus. Our own experience is not ultimately authoritative, but must be interpreted in light of the Christ-event as Matthew records it.
- God’s revelation is theocentric (i.e., God-centered) in that it asserts that one’s relationship to God is the most fundamental reality, and that social, political, and all interpersonal relationships must derive from one’s knowledge of and relationship to God, the Father of Jesus Christ.
- God’s revelation in Jesus Christ is authoritatively interpreted in the Christian tradition, of which Matthew claims to be a part. In other words, Matthew recognizes that there can be, and are, many “Christs,” i.e., interpretations of Jesus, but that the only true, authoritative understanding of Jesus is found in the Gospel tradition. Matthew, therefore, does not present his understanding of Jesus as his own opinion or as one of an infinite number of equally viable perspectives, but as the way Jesus must be understood if he is to be understood rightly. Matthew claims, in fact, that only God can reveal Jesus’ true identity and nature (11:25-27; 16:13-17), and that this Gospel bears testimony to God’s valuation of Jesus.
- God’s revelation in Jesus is eschatological in that in him God is already ushering in his kingdom and will bring it to consummation on the Day of Judgment. Matthew emphasizes that one must live now constantly in light of the reality of the future eschaton when Jesus will judge all persons, granting to some eternal salvation and to others everlasting condemnation.
Parting company with Matthew
I have included this discussion of the implications of Matthew’s view of revelation in order to indicate that at each of these points the authors of Who Do You Say That I Am? part company with Matthew. The very way they structure their book, and their lesson plans presented at the end of the book, indicates something of their understanding of revelation. They repeatedly alternate between commentary on Matthew’s narrative and accounts of their own personal histories. The point is clear: The narrative of the Gospel becomes an occasion for self-reflection, and the impression is that God has revealed himself as much through our stories as he has in the historical work of Jesus Christ. The text exists to suggest general ideas, which in turn prompt us to reflect upon our own experiences, or the experiences of others who are like us, and in the process learn from these experiences.
An example is the way the writers handle the genealogy (pp. 11-18): The genealogy of Jesus includes four women who were incorporated there because they suffered oppression from a male-dominated society. The authors suggest that readers develop a “genogram” in which they reflect upon the kind of oppression their forebearers endured and the ways in which these forebearers “survived” (pp. 21-22). The experience of our forebearers and their courageous survival, then, become the key to our self-understanding and the model and motivation for us.
This experience-oriented approach leads the authors to invite us to replace both Matthean ethics and Matthean Christology with those which are more relevant and acceptable to us. Thus, the authors suggest that the “doctrine of the two ways” reflected in Jesus’ saying regarding the wide and narrow gate (7:13-14) may be too rigid an ethical paradigm. Therefore they urge us to ask: “How is this model helpful and how is it not helpful in understanding your life and the world? Do you have another model you would propose instead?” (pp. 33-34).
Matthew’s Christology is also capable of improvement, according to these authors. After all, they contend, Matthew’s Christology arose out of his own cultural context, and surely we must accept a Christology that reflects our own cultural and personal experiences, whether that be Native American, African-American, feminist, or lesbian (pp. 94-110). Although it is true that Matthew’s Christology must be communicated clearly to persons in all cultures, it is simply not true that Matthew’s is an “inclusive Christology” (p. 98) which invites persons to spin out all sorts of additional categories and images; or to pick and choose in favor of those Christological categories in the Gospel that one finds helpful and against those one finds unhelpful; or to engage in a revisionism that involves giving one’s own content to the Christological images that Matthew employs. If this is the way we deal with the biblical text, then we ultimately prevent that text from ever speaking a new and challenging word to us. We need correction in our valuing and thinking, not mere confirmation. It is, incidentally, not surprising that the examples of various cultural Christologies these authors cite do not simply stand outside the orbit of Matthew’s view of Jesus, but are often in stark contradiction to it; this is the case, for example, with the view of Jesus as a political figure (p. 100).
Related to this emphasis on the hermeneutical value of experience is a tendency to make judgments of right or wrong, not on the basis of the perspective of the text but rather on the basis of contemporary social sensitivities (to use a somewhat amorphous term, “political correctness”). While it is true that Matthew has much to say against all forms of oppression, including racism and sexism, it is extremely doubtful that these concerns are envisaged by him in all the passages where these authors find them. Indeed, it is both interesting and revealing that the authors speak out only against these kinds of sins, and ignore entirely those infractions which were certainly also in Matthew’s mind but have not come under the stem gaze of the purveyors of political correctness. Even more troubling, these authors approach the text with a kind of “hermeneutic of suspicion,” attempting to identify anything in the text that fails to meet their standards of social justice. Thus, they quite wrongly label Jesus’ statement to the Canaanite woman (15:26) a “racist remark.” So much for Matthew’s conviction that Jesus is at all times reliable and always represents the viewpoint of God.
The same perspective lies behind their view of Scripture, as articulated in this passage: “When Christians set aside the passages of the Bible that condone slavery, we are following the way which Jesus taught on the Sermon on the Mount; Scripture that harms is no longer Scripture. In doing so, we are affirming the greatest commandments and the weightier matters of the law” (p. 32). Not only does this statement reflect a simplistic notion of the process of evaluating and applying biblical passages, it also lays down a general principle that can be used to dismiss any biblical commandment deemed by certain contemporary persons to be unworthy of God—especially, of course, the commands against homosexuality. It is, therefore, no surprise that these authors repeatedly allude to “heterosexualism” and “homophobia” alongside racism and sexism, and seem not to be troubled at all by biblical prohibitions against homosexuality that the Bible grounds in creation theology.
The approach of these authors reflects modern secularism in that they tend to see all of life in terms of social and political realities of the present order. This has implications for their view of sin, for according to these authors sin is to be found primarily—if not exclusively—in social structures, especially those dominated by white males; and salvation involves forgiveness for complicity in social injustice, and liberation from societal oppression and its consequences. While these elements are of some concern in Matthew’s Gospel, Matthew identifies the root of sin and oppression not within societal structures but within the hearts of persons (7:17-18; 12:33-37). The oppressed as well as the oppressors need to repent (21:28-32), and the whole of the people are in urgent need of salvation from sin (1:21-23). This emphasis upon social and political categories of the present order has implications also for eschatology, for these authors virtually ignore Matthew’s emphasis upon end-time judgment—and, in fact, declare such an emphasis an example of “religious abuse” (p. 6).
Authors who thus speak and write often view their work as “radical,” calling persons in the church to a new, sanitized, tolerant form of Christianity. They do not realize, however, that their views are not radical at all, but rather they reflect the same anthropocentric perspective that, from the point of view of the biblical tradition, has been the bane of the human race throughout history. In the final analysis, the only really new, radical thing that has ever been spoken is the Word of God that comes to us in Scripture, especially in the person of God’s Son Jesus Christ. It is appropriate and necessary to make that Word relevant for every generation and every culture, but it is dangerous to allow the contemporary culture to determine the meaning of that Word and to judge its legitimacy.
David R. Bauer is Chair of the Biblical Studies Division and Beeson Professor of English Bible at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. Dr. Bauer is the author of The Gospel of the King: Studies in the Gospel of Matthew, and The Structure of Matthew’s Gospel: A Study in Literary Design.
by Steve | Jan 10, 1995 | Archive - 1995
Archive: Confessing Christ in the Midst of Tyranny
In every age the church has had to resist accommodation to non-Christian policies and ideologies. The German church’s confrontation with Democratic Socialism during World War II described in the article below, provides vital, timely lessons for today’s church.
by Charles Colson with Ellen Santilli Vaughn
By now (July 14, 1933), Hitler had only one significant source of opposition. Not the journalists, political parties, universities, or labor unions; all these he had almost completely converted to Nazism in less than six months. Instead, opposition came from a most unexpected source: the church.
Two-thirds of the German population—45,000,000—were Protestants, primarily Lutherans. But Hitler would allow no independent source of authority in his resurrected Germany. Everyone must answer to the Fuhrer. Every institution must serve the aims of the Fatherland, including the church.
Publicly, in the beginning, Hitler gave the appearance of being a religious man. In private, however, he expressed his utter contempt for the church, particularly for the Protestants. He expected their pastors to knuckle under easily to his schemes for remolding the church, his main source of opposition. “They will betray anything for the sake of their miserable little jobs and incomes.”
Early on he had negotiated an agreement with Rome that removed Roman Catholic opposition to his regime. Eager to support the spirit of the times, the 28 main Protestant denominations voluntarily began work on a new constitution that would unite them under one leader according to the “Fuhrer principle.”
But Hitler was impatient; he did not want to wait for the church bureaucracy. He decided to push an obscure, obsequious naval chaplain, Ludwig Muller, into leadership of the newly united Protestant church. Despite the Fuhrer’s prestigious support, however, Muller was defeated in a May 27 election.
Hitler refused to meet the elected bishop. Instead, radio and press propaganda poured out favorable material about Muller. In late June, Nazi government officials invaded church offices, forcibly taking over administrative positions. Muller proclaimed himself national bishop-elect.
The new officials ordered services of praise and thanksgiving for this takeover. Every church in Germany was to be decorated with Nazi flags and a proclamation was to be read from the pulpit.
But while all Germany was being wooed to Hitler, a stubborn resistance was taking root within the church itself—the Young Reformation Movement. Martin Niemoller, Hans Jacobi, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer were among its first members. They were apolitical, and their meetings often included a resolution of loyalty to the government, and sometimes to Adolf Hitler. But they also valued the church’s independence and rejected any attempt to blend a religion of Germany with the religion of Jesus Christ.
On July 14, 1933, Hitler surprised everyone by calling a special church election to be held nine days later on July 23. The German Christians were given complete access to the state-run radio and newspapers; the Young Reformation hastily organized a slate of candidates and began feverish campaigning. Over the weekend, leaflets were written and duplicated.
On Monday, July 17, the Gestapo invaded the Young Reformation offices and confiscated all 620,000 campaign leaflets.
[Martin Niemoller and Dietrich Bonhoeffer agreed that someone must go directly to Hitler to protest what had been done. Jacobi and Bonhoeffer went to Gestapo headquarters and demanded to see Rudolf Diels, the Gestapo chief.]
When Diels heard their complaint, he did not budge an inch. “It seems clear to me, Pastors, that you are in the wrong. You have published scurrilous literature. You are fortunate not to have been arrested yourselves.” He stood up and held out his hand, as though that closed the matter.
Neither Bonhoeffer nor Jacobi moved. “The Fuhrer made the explicit promise that this election would be free and secret,” Bonhoeffer said. “He wanted to settle the political quarrels of our church through a fair election. Do you think confiscating all of one party’s literature can be considered fair treatment?
“Pastor, I have heard the Fuhrer’s words. He appointed me to safeguard them. He did not give you that responsibility. My officers have been very lenient with you. If it were up to me I would send you to the concentration camp now. In fact I am thinking of it. Why don’t you simply leave now and go prepare your next sermon?”
“You have not answered my question,” Bonhoeffer pressed him.
The Gestapo leader leaned back in his chair and forced a smile. “You do not really have much respect for the state, do you, Pastor?”
“I have enough respect for the state to protest when it does wrong,” Bonhoeffer snapped back.
Hitler Backs Christian Faction
That weekend Hitler was in Bayreuth for the annual Wagner Festival. During an interval in the program, he broadcast a message calling for the German people, in support of all he had done, to elect those forces that “as exemplified by the German Christians, have deliberately chosen to take their stand within the National Socialist State.”
For Martin Niemoller, that address was a lightning bolt. As a former U-boat captain from World War I and an ardent German patriot, he had supported Hitler. Now he had heard, in disbelief, a state official telling the church whom to elect as their spiritual representatives. Niemoller would never trust Hitler again.
In September the new governing body of the German Evangelical Church met. They elected Hitler’s man, Muller, their bishop and passed the much-debated Aryan Paragraph, outlawing all Jews or persons married to Jews from church office. They also passed a ruling that all pastors take an oath of loyalty to Hitler and his government.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer urged vehemently that all dissenting pastors resign from the church. Instead, protest formed under a new organization, the Pastors’ Emergency League, led by the tireless Martin Niemoller. Within a week 2,300 pastors had signed its pledge to be bound in their preaching “only by Holy Scripture and the Confessions of the Reformation.” By the end of the year members would total 6,000.
Christian Faction Rallies
In November, 1933, 20,000 German Christians, including bishops and church officials in full regalia, gathered in the Berlin Sports Palace. Joachim Hossenfelder, a Berlin pastor and head of the German Christians, presided in his Nazi uniform. After the usual parade of swastika-bedecked flags, Hossenfelder announced that in his diocese, the Aryan paragraph—dismissing all Jews from church office—was being put into effect immediately. He also announced that Niemoller and other leaders of the Pastors’ Emergency League would be suspended, since their activities were entirely foreign to the true spirit of Germany. At each announcement the crowd erupted into a resounding cheer.
The main speaker of the evening was a senior Nazi official who demanded that everything un-German be purged from the church. His final admonition was that the Bible be re-examined for non-German elements: “liberation from the Old Testament, with its Jewish money morality and these stories of cattle-dealers and pimps.” It also meant purging the New Testament of its Jewish elements, especially the unheroic theology of the apostle Paul with his “inferiority complex.” A proud, heroic Jesus must replace the model of a “suffering servant.”
His speech was interrupted again and again by applause. Not one of the bishops or church leaders stood to disagree. Instead, when the speaker had finished, resolutions were enthusiastically passed supporting his words and calling for Jewish Christians to be forced into “Ghetto churches.”
Resistance Leaders Meet Hitler
Martin Niemoller and a group of his fellow bishops waited quietly in the Reich Chancellery. Finally they were ushered into the Fuhrer’s office. Hitler, his face flushed, rose from behind his desk and came forward and began angrily to lecture the pastors. His entire manner made them feel like criminals.
“Do you think you can pull such outrageous, backstairs politics with me? You underestimate me if you do. I am sick of being treated this way, by the church leaders of all people. What have I done to you? Only tried to make peace between all your warring factions.”
Hitler raved on. The bishops were dumbfounded and Niemoller was horrified. The thought of a treason trial crossed his mind. When Hitler finally did stop, Niemoller stepped to the front and went on to explain that the struggle for the church was by no means aimed against the Third Reich; it was for the sake of the nation.
“I will protect the German people,” Hitler shouted. “You take care of the church. You pastors should worry about getting people to heaven and leave this world to me.”
The shaken clergymen timidly tried to soothe Hitler’s temper. They suggested that Bishop Muller simply lacked the mature qualities that a national bishop needed. The reason for their concern was the possibility of mixing false doctrines with the true gospel.
Hitler did shake hands with the churchmen when they left. As he came to Niemoller, the pastor looked into the Fuhrer’s face and spoke directly and carefully. “A moment ago, Herr Hitler, you told us that you would take care of the German people. But as Christians and men of the church we too have a responsibility for the German people, laid upon us by God. Neither you nor anyone else can take that away from us.”
For a moment Hitler stared at him. Then he touched Niemoller’s hand and moved on without a word. Outside, several of the clergymen accosted Niemoller, “How could you speak that way to the Fuhrer? Don’t you see that you have ruined it all?”
Protestant Bishops Capitulate
On the Monday after their meeting with Hitler, the Protestant bishops of Germany gathered for a meeting with National Bishop Muller. Shocked and frightened by Niemoller’s behavior [courage], they completely capitulated. They issued a statement of unconditional support for Hitler, the Third Reich, and Bishop Muller, and vowed to carry out any measures and directives he ordered.
Alarmed by Niemoller’s radical leadership, 2,000 members of the Pastor’s Emergency League—almost a third of the group—resigned. Encouraged by this victory, Bishop Muller became more aggressive and dictatorial. He published a series of disciplinary measures, suspensions, dismissals, and retirements. He declared that from then on, the church would not be governed by useless synods but by a centralized bureaucracy.
May 29, 1934, Barmen, Germany. They met in a large church in a modern industrial town: 139 delegates in all—half pastors, half laymen—representing 18 different German denominations. Some were frightened, others elated about the statement of faith they were about to draw up as the charter of the church’s resistance.
The Barmen Declaration was not a political document, and it said not a word about Hitler or [Bishop] Muller. Rather, it set forth the theological foundations of the church for which they were prepared to suffer, and it spoke strongly and directly against the false teachings of the German Christians. The clear implication was that Hitler’s elevation of the German race was anti-Christian. God had not specially revealed himself through the German nation, blood, race, or even Hitler.
Barmen also spelled out their understanding of church and state. It said in part: “The Bible tells us that according to divine arrangements the state has the responsibility to provide for justice and peace in the yet unredeemed world, in which the church also stands. … We repudiate the false teaching that the state can and should expand beyond its special responsibility to become the single and total order of human life … ”
For their expression of faith [the Barmen Declaration], some of those present would lose their livelihood, be imprisoned, or exiled. Others would lose their lives. A great many others, however, would fail the test.
One of the results of the Barmen meeting was the organization of a group that called themselves the Confessing Church. They represented the large number of Christians within the badly divided German Evangelical Church who most opposed the policies of Hitler. Among their numbers were Niemoller and Bonhoeffer.
March 10, 1935, Berlin. In the midst of this sleepy Sunday afternoon, a knock came at the door. Pastor Schollen seemed frightened. He declined a cup of tea and sat fidgeting and glancing around nervously until Niemoller said impatiently, “Get on with it, man! What did you come about?”
Schollen fished in his wallet and brought out a small red card, which he tried to hand to Niemoller. Niemoller waved it away, smiling. He recognized it as the membership card for the Confessing Church. “Yes, I knew you had joined, Pastor Schollen. I recognize your name.”
“I came for counsel, Brother Niemoller. Did you read the statement aloud today?”
“Yes, of course. We had a meeting with the entire congregation in the parish hall. I not only read it, I demanded that everyone make clear where they stand. We took a vote and it was passed overwhelmingly.”
Schollen fidgeted, looked down at his feet, then said, “I didn’t read the statement this morning because the chief of police is in my congregation. He warned me against it, told me I could lose my position. And I did not feel certain that the tactics were correct.”
Niemoller’s sleepiness was gone. “Pastor Schollen, you are not the only one lacking courage. But many pastors were not afraid this morning. They read the statement and hundreds more will read it next week.”
“You don’t think it is too severe?” Schollen asked. “Some of the pastors thought a more reasonable tone would be more honoring to those with different views. I mean, calling it ‘a new religion making idols of blood, race, nation, honor, eternal Germany.’ That’s quite strong.”
“It is nothing less than a new religion,” Niemoller said. “A new religion with a different God. Do you know what they are teaching the Hitler Youth now? They are saying that just as Jesus went through three days in the grave, Hitler spent a year in prison. But Hitler’s resurrection did not take him away from earth; he stayed here to save the German people. They are teaching that to our children now! Don’t you know that?”
“One hears all kinds of things. But how do you know that it is the whole picture?”
“By the time you know the whole picture they will have taken down our crosses and put up swastikas. And you and I will be in the KZ [concentration camps].”
“But even Bodelschwingh, your old mentor, says we should wait,” Schollen said. “They are talking to Hitler, and soon they will reach a reasonable solution. Is it proper to be making proclamations against the government when discussions are continuing on a daily basis? I ask myself, how could I justify this to the Fuhrer?”
“Justify yourself to the Lord Jesus!” Niemoller shouted.
“I will tell you something,” Niemoller added in a lower tone. “Hitler is a coward, a coward and a bully. He will terrify you so long as you are willing to be terrified. We must stand up to him for the church of Jesus Christ.”
“I really must go, Pastor Niemoller,” Schollen said stiffly. He had heard what he needed to hear to make up his mind. He left quickly, not looking back.
That week 700 pastors were arrested before they went to their churches to read the statement of the Confessing Church.
[Martin Niemoller and Dietrich Bonhoeffer were sent to concentration camps because of their resistance to Hitler. Niemoller survived, Bonhoeffer was hanged just weeks before the Allied forces liberated Germany.]
Adapted from Kingdoms in Conflict by Charles Colson with Ellen Santilli Vaughn, co-published by William Morrow and Zondervan Publishing House, 1987. Reprinted with permission of Prison Fellowship, P. 0. Box 17500, Washington, D.C. 20041-0500.
