If Critics of 2K Have So Much Time To Criticize 2K, the Culture Must Be Fine

Published on by D. G. Hart127 Comments

Recent interactions with Dr. K. and his followers have confirmed at least to (all about) me that no end (or substance) is in sight for the fine tooth comb applied to two kingdom theology. In an earlier exchange, potential clarification of views went essentially nowhere. Dr. K. did admit finally that Misty Irons may not be the best evidence of 2k’s problems, though he continues to make gay marriage a test case for cultural engagement (when he is not banging the drum for Christian schools). Why blasphemy laws are not also not on the table for culture warriors is still up for grabs (at one point Dr. K. said that gay marriage and blasphemy were apples and oranges).

So too some clarification came in the realm of biblicism. Dr. K. went out of his way to say that the Bible is not sufficient for all of life. But then with the other hand he insisted that the Bible must provide the lens with which to interpret everything. I don’t know about you, but if a book is silent on plumbing and then I am told the book in question needs to be used to interpret plumbing, the drip in my mental faucet quickens.

Arguably, the only glove that landed on 2kers was our failure to be as outraged as neo-Calvinists were about the incident of a transgender man exposing himself (herself?) to co-eds at a Washington State college.

Now (okay, a little while ago) comes another assessment of Matt Tuininga’s effort to find a middle way between 2k and neo-Calvinism. Part of the annoyance of this post is the mind-numbing numbering of paragraphs the way that European academic books do (arguably nothing makes scholarship look more arcane than numbering and sub-numbering paragraphs in the manner of a automobile manual). After three articles of trying to explain 2k to people unfamiliar with it and a tad frightened, Tuininga receives a barely passing grade from Dr. K.:

This essay written by Matthew Tuininga is the third in a series seeking to explain the heart of the new movement known as “natural law and two kingdoms” (NL2K, R2K, or simply 2K). It remains to be seen, however, whether his numerous qualifications designed to safeguard his position and to effect rapprochement with worldview Calvinism will offer genuine clarity or generate more confusion.

With the culture in such bad shape as neo-Calvinists have it, you might think Dr. K. would see 2k as a rather minor concern. Do anti-2kers really think that a few book writers, who are by no means celebrities at the Gospel Coalition’s registrants count celebrity, are derailing the project to return the United States to biblical standards? If only Old Life were that popular.

Meanwhile, not to be missed is a good statement of 2k convictions on Tuininga’s part:

Perhaps the most obvious expression of this reality is Ephesians 4, the passage Calvin used to link his two kingdoms doctrine with its institutional implications for church government. Paul explains that the fruits of Christ’s ascension, in which he was made Lord of all things, is expressed in his pouring out of the gifts of the church’s ministry. It is as the apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers equip the saints for ministry and build up the body into Christ that the saints “grow up in every way into him who is the head” (Ephesians 4:7-16). This is Paul’s presupposition when he declares in 1 Corinthians 3:21-23, “For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future – all are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.”

Thus, the church is the only corporate expression of the kingdom in this age. It is only as we join ourselves to the body of Christ, the body of those who hold fast to Jesus, that we participate in the kingdom that is coming. And although we witness to our citizenship in this kingdom in every single thing that we do in this age, doing everything “as unto the Lord,” the primary form this witness to Christ’s lordship takes is that of submission, service, and sacrifice in an often hostile and oppressive world. Only after believers, like Jesus and in conformity to his example, set aside the glory that they have been promised, take up the form of a servant, and humble themselves to the point of death, can they be confident that God will exalt them above every knee “in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Philippians 2:5-11). Only by following in the way of the Lamb that was slain, to the point of martyrdom if necessary, do the witnesses of the Lamb conquer with him (Revelation 12:11; 14:4).

My lone quibble with Matt is the sign of lingering neo-Calvinism (which I attribute to his Covenant College education, in part, and which he denies). For instance, he still believes that Christians will look or be different and noticeable when they apply the Bible to their daily lives:

The call of the Christian life is therefore not to establish the Lordship of Christ through conquest or external cultural transformation but to witness to Jesus’s lordship by imitating him in his sacrificial service. When we conform to Christ’s example faithfully the effect on our various vocations and communities will indeed be profound. Those in government will recognize the Lordship of Christ (Psalm 2) and seek to use their power to secure peace and justice for those under their charge, rather than self-aggrandizement, and to protect the church in order that it might fulfill its task (1 Timothy 2:1-2). Those in positions of economic power will serve those placed under them rather than dominate them (Ephesians 6:9). Husbands will sacrifice themselves for their wives in imitation of Christ, recognizing their equality together in him (Ephesians 5:25-33). Those who have been given gifts, talents, or riches will use those resources to provide for those who are in need (Ephesians 4:28; 1 Timothy 6:18). About all of these cultural affairs, in which believers engage in common with unbelievers, Scripture has much to say.

I know Matt thinks I am less than moderate at times in my expression of 2k and part of my provocation stems from an unwillingness to grant culturally distinct ways to Christians based on biblical teaching. But I also know and I am sure Matt knows, plenty of non-Christians who believe government officials should serve the public, that businessmen should not ruthlessly pursue profits, that husbands should be considerate and loving toward their wives, and that those with resources will share them with those in need. In other words, I see nothing inherently distinctive or biblical in the Christian pursuit of these social and cultural goods. Do different motives exist for Christian businessmen compared to their unbelieving peers? Sure. Can I see those motives? No. And that is the point. The best stuff that Christians produce in public or cultural life is hardly distinct from non-Christian products. Where you do literally see Christianity at work is on Sunday.

Oh no, there goes 24/7 Christianity.

Like Eating Broccoli or Wearing a Scarf?

Published on by D. G. Hart51 Comments

I have been doing a little research lately with the aim of figuring out my (all about me) status in the world of Roman Catholicism. The more I read, the more it seems that the rationale for a Protestant converting to Rome is that he gets something akin to what my mother wanted me to have when she commended eating my vegetables or dressing appropriately for cold weather. It is not a life and death matter whether or not I am in fellowship with the Bishop of Rome. I am a separated brother and my baptism in the name of the Trinity should get me through — to what I am not sure since I know I have committed mortal sins and have not received forgiveness through the proper channels. But since Vatican II expanded (I mean developed) the earlier teaching on no salvation outside the church, my status seems to be one where salvation is possible even if I have not communed with Christ through the ministry of the one, holy, apostolic church. In other words, the reason for converting seems to be a matter of wisdom, or desiring a fuller expression of Christianity. Rome offers richer fare than Protestants’ fast food piety. But whether my soul is in danger is not altogether clear.

I refer to a discussion that took place a year or so ago over at my favorite arch-Roman Catholic site, Called to Communion. Tom Brown interacted with a piece by David VanDrunen about alleged changes in Rome’s views on salvation. The sticking point for logocentric Protestants seems to be the disparity between the Council of Florence and the Second Vatican Council. According to the former (1442):

It firmly believes, professes, and proclaims that those not living within the Catholic Church, not only pagans, but also Jews and heretics and schismatics cannot become participants in eternal life, but will depart “into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels” [Matt. 25:41], unless before the end of life the same have been added to the flock; and that the unity of the ecclesiastical body is so strong that only to those remaining in it are the sacraments of the Church of benefit for salvation, and do fastings, almsgiving, and other functions of piety and exercises of Christian service produce eternal reward, and that no one, whatever almsgiving he has practiced, even if he has shed blood for the name of Christ, can be saved, unless he has remained in the bosom and unity of the Catholic Church.

But according to the delegates to Rome during the 1960s:

For they who without their own fault do not know of the Gospel of Christ and His Church, but yet seek God with sincere heart, and try, under the influence of grace, to carry out His will in practice, known to them through the dictate of conscience, can attain eternal salvation.

VanDrunen calls this a “watershed” but Brown regards it as a development:

We see from Trent and St. Augustine a clear belief that the washing of regeneration is necessary for salvation, and a belief that extraordinary non-sacramental means of obtaining the fruits of Baptism are possible. To the teachings of Trent and St. Augustine, many more examples could be added. These teachings mean that very early on, Catholic doctrine qualified extra Ecclesiam in a way that left open the possibility of salvation for those not materially united to the Church. This proves false VanDrunen’s claim that the Catholic Church has recently “changed” its “older” teaching that “people could enjoy eternal life and escape everlasting damnation only by being received into its membership.”

In fact, over the centuries the Church carefully has developed a nuanced doctrine of salvation for those not materially united to her. This process has been so cautious because of the weighty concern of calling all sinners to the ordinary means of grace through formal union with the Church, on the one hand, and the similarly weighty concern of avoiding the appearance of delimiting God’s ability to extend grace and salvation through extraordinary means, on the other. It is this process which has led the Church to its reflection on salvation for those who are invincibly ignorant, the subject of VanDrunen’s article. As the Catholic Catechism teaches, “Every man who is ignorant of the Gospel of Christ and of his Church, but seeks the truth and does the will of God in accordance with his understanding of it, can be saved. It may be supposed that such persons would have desired Baptism explicitly if they had known its necessity.

Worthy of comment here is what this seems to mean for the doctrine of original sin. It appears that Brown’s view weakens the devastating effects and consequences of sin. He seems to think that Rome teaches that anyone can be saved, even without a baptism that would remove the guilt of sin (according to Rome). So I’m not sure how this really helps the case he is making. Whenever Rome started to teach that it was possible for salvation outside the church, and even if Vatican II is a development of earlier teachings, a view which makes salvation possible apart from Christ is one in need of serious reform. In other words, how seriously does Brown think Rome takes sin?

Either way, it is a curious defense for another reason. Conservative Protestants objected to Protestant liberalism for denying that belief in Christ was essential for salvation. Back when Re-Thinking Missions came out, and when missions boards of the various Protestant churches countenanced the idea that Christians could cooperate with non-Christian religions in the enterprise of religion, conservatives were rightly opposed and believed the proverbial straw had broken the mainline churches’ witness. Rome’s own flirtation with an expansive view of salvation seems to move in a direction comparable to the old liberal Protestant project. The irony is that some Protestants are attracted to Rome because of its conservatism as opposed to the wishy-washiness and diversity of Protestantism. That quest for a Roman Catholic conservatism would be a lot more plausible if it included the old view articulated by the Council of Florence.

Postscript: in one of the comments in this thread, even a younger Jason Stellman was not buying development over change:

From where I sit as a non-Catholic, what this looks like is an example of a true change being euphemized as a development. When the early position is “No one can gain eternal life unless he is joined to the Catholic Church,” and the later position is, “Some people can gain eternal life even if not joined to the Catholic Church,” well, that sounds like a change rather than a development.

To me, anyway….

If You're Not a Member, You Don't Commune

Published on by D. G. Hart149 Comments

Here is an article lauding church membership to parachurch workers. In many respects, each of the ten reasons exposes the parasitic relationship that parachurch organizations have with communions. For instance:

3. Church membership allows you to invite members of your local body to participate in your work and be strengthened by it. It enables you to invite others to join in the work of your ministry. Other church members can pray, give, help strategize, or volunteer to help you in your work.

Or:

9. Church membership might even allow you to cultivate your support base. Submitting your life to a church allows people to know you and trust you, and, I hope, to make you trustworthy. In other words, Christians should be able to give their money to people they know and trust, and your formal commitment to a church allows this to happen.

Only in number ten does the author get around to the biggest reason:

10. You will experience the ordinances as Scripture intends. With the exception of missionary contexts in which no church exists (as in Acts 8), Scripture always places the practice of the ordinances in the setting of the local church. The Lord’s Supper and baptism should be practiced among a community of believers who have covenanted together under the preached Word and discipline. In some ways, this point is the culmination of the others above. We should share the bread and cup of communion with those who are alike and different from us—those whom God has brought together—so that we might corporately declare his death until he comes again (1 Cor. 11:17-34). Communion among affinity groups can cloud the universal and inclusive nature of the gospel.

In point of fact, unless someone is baptized and a member in good standing in a church, they should not partake of the Supper nor should any session permit the baptism of the non-members’ children.

Sorry to sound so vinegary. But I am trying to remind the parachurch Gospel Co-Allies of their commitment to the visible church.

What Bible Are Neo-Calvinists Reading?

Published on by D. G. Hart52 Comments

Is this the tone or posture that characterizes those Reformed Protestants who insist that the only genuine Christianity is the one that is fully engaged with this world, 24/7?

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil. (2 Corinthians 5:1-10 ESV)

And when you turn to Calvin for his comments on this passage, we read the following:

For Paul has it in view, to correct in us impatience, dread, and dislike of the cross, contempt for what is mean, and in fine, pride, and effeminacy; and this can only be accomplished by raising up our minds as high as heaven, through contempt of the world. Now he has recourse to two arguments. On the one hand, he shows the miserable condition of mankind in this life, and on the other hand, the supreme and perfect blessedness, which awaits believers in heaven after death. For what is it that keeps men so firmly bound in a misplaced attachment to this life, but their deceiving themselves with a false imagination — thinking themselves happy in living here? On the other hand, it is not enough to be aware of the miseries of this life, if we have not at the same time in view the felicity and glory of the future life. This is common to good and bad alike — that both are desirous to live. This, also, is common to both — that, when they consider, how many and how great miseries they are here exposed to, (with this difference, however, that unbelievers know of no adversities but those of the body merely, while the pious are more deeply affected 508 by spiritual distresses,) they often groan, often deplore their condition, and desire a remedy for their evils. As, however, all naturally view death with horror, unbelievers never willingly quit this life, except when they throw it off in disgust or despair. Believers, on the other hand, depart willingly, because they have a better hope set before them beyond this world. This is the sum of the argument. Let us now examine the words one by one.

Calvin adds on verse eight specifically:

Observe here — what has been once stated already — that true faith begets not merely a contempt of death, but even a desire for it, and that it is, accordingly, on the other hand, a token of unbelief, when dread of death predominates in us above the joy and consolation of hope. Believers, however, desire death — not as if they would, by an importunate desire, anticipate their Lord’s day, for they willingly retain their footing in their earthly station, so long as their Lord may see good, for they would rather live to the glory of Christ than die to themselves, (Romans 14:7,) and for their own advantage; for the desire, of which Paul speaks, springs from faith. Hence it is not at all at variance with the will of God. We may, also, gather from these words of Paul, that souls, when released from the body, live in the presence of God, for if, on being absent from the body, they have God present, they assuredly live with him.

Neo-Calvinism indeed.

Blame It On the Reformation (Part 2)

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In The Unintended Reformation, Brad Gregory objects to the sort of doctrinal and (ultimately) intellectual pluralism that Protestants, with their doctrine of sola scriptura and their belief in the illumination of the Spirity, unleashed upon the West. The common refrain that the diversity of religious claims point to faith’s “arbitrary, subjective character” is the result of the Reformation’s challenge to Rome’s own claim to be the arbiter of truth claims. Gregory illustrates this way:

Try this thought experiment: Put in the same room Remi Brague, Daniel Dennett, Juergen Habermas, Vittorio Hoesle, Saul Kripke, Julia Kristevea, Jean-Luc Marion, Martha Sussbaum, Alvin Plantinga, Hilary Putnam, John Searle, and Peter Singer. Tell them they will be fed and housed but that they cannot leave until they have reached an agreement about answers to the Life Questions on the basis of reason. How long will they take? I wouldn’t hold my breath. (125)

Gregory goes on to concede that he is not opposed to reason per se “without which any rational endeavor would be impossible.” But this thought experiment does “strongly suggest that reason is as unlikely a candidate for answering the Life Questions as is Scripture alone.” (126)

So what is the solution? Gregory doesn’t state it directly but it has to be the papacy, or more generally, one authority who will eventually determine which of reason’s answers is THE answer to life’s questions.

But that invites another thought experiment. Put Aquinas, Scotus, Augustine, Benedict (the original), Gregory VII, and Thomas More in the same room and ask them to come up with answers to Life Questions. Would they agree? I’m not holding my breath. But put the pope (which one) in the room and all of a sudden you don’t get agreement necessarily but you have an umpire whose judgment will bind everyone in the room. What happens if the pope is not the smartest guy in the room? Apparently, it doesn’t matter. At least we have an authority to determine the answer. It doesn’t really matter if the answer is correct since what we need, apparently, is agreement on answers.

I don’t think Gregory means to imply such an authoritarian account of Roman Catholicism. And I do believe he is several steps from the quest for certainty that prevails among some of the hotter sort of papalists over at Called to Communion. But the resemblances are striking. Rome’s advantage appears to be its unity on paper and the comforting thought that its head will nurture unity and stamp out diversity. That’s an odd construction of Rome’s unified authority structure given the intellectual diversity of places like the University of Notre Dame today not to mention the way that various popes fell asleep at the switch when fellows like Duns Scotus and William of Occam were using their reason and writing.

Honor or Venerate?

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Several years ago I read a piece by Timothy George, part of the working group’s reflections on Catholics and Evangelicals Together, on Protestants needing to get over some of their hangups about the virgin Mary. It was the same day where I heard a sermon, in Berkeley, California, as I recall, from Philippians where Paul recommends Epaphroditus to the new church:

I have thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier, and your messenger and minister to my need, for he has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. Indeed he was ill, near to death. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. I am the more eager to send him, therefore, that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious. So receive him in the Lord with all joy, and honor such men, for he nearly died for the work of Christ, risking his life to complete what was lacking in your service to me. (Philippians 2:25-30 ESV)

I was recently reminded of Epaphroditus during a fine sermon in Belfast on the concluding verses of Philippians. I was struck before and more recently by this command to “honor” Paul’s co-worker. Whatever the Greek may mean, I thought it interesting that Paul commends Epaphroditus and does not even mention Mary in any of his epistles (unless the Mary referred to at the end of Romans was the mother of Christ). In fact, after the narrative sections of the New Testament, Mary is absent.

I understand this may reflect a certain biblicism on my part but I do wonder how the veneration of Mary squares with practically no instruction about her status, even by Peter, the rock and all that. I also find hard to fathom how Peter and Paul would react to the idea of Mary as the “mediatrix of all graces.” Perhaps a failure to venerate Mary or regard her as a player in the divine economy of redemption, combined with a reminder to honor Epaphroditus is in keeping with Mary’s own piety:

My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name. (Luke 1:46-49 ESV)

Mary apparently knew that it was God doing great things, not herself, just as Paul recognized the beyond-the-call-of-duty efforts of Epaphroditus were worthy not of veneration but honor.

The Blessings of Protestant Christianity

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Reading Luther this morning I came across this from his commentary on Romans:

Yes, certainly, we are the Lord’s, and this is our greatest joy and comfort, that we have as a Lord Him unto whom the Father has given all power in heaven and on earth, and into whose hands He has given all things. Who, then, can and will harm us? The devil may well rage with wrath, but he cannot tear us out of His hands. Further, are not we who believe in Jesus Christ our Lord, and live under His protection, also in Him and through Him, ourselves made lords over the devil, sin, and death? For He was made man for our sake (that He might win for us such lordship). For our sake He entreated the Father, and so loved us that He became a curse for us and gave himself a sacrifice for us. With His dear blood He bought us and washed us clean from sin. And again He has given us in our hearts the pledge of our inheritance and salvation, the Holy Spirit, and has made us kings and priests before God. In short, He has made us children and heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Himself. Yes, truly, this is a faithful saying. . . .

Can non-Protestants claim this? Why wouldn’t they want to?

Blame It on the Reformation (Part 1)

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In the first chapter of The Unintended Reformation: How A Religious Revolution Secularized Society (Belknap/Harvard), Brad S. Gregory tries to account for the Reformation’s role in the disenchantment of the medieval cosmos and the eventual dominance of a secular, scientific understanding of the universe:

Protestant reformers sought to restore a proper understanding of the relationship between God and creation as they respectively understood it. Nevertheless, some of their departures from the traditional Christian view seem to have implied univocal metaphysical assumptions in ways that probably did contribute to an eventual conception of a disenchanted natural world. One such departure was their variegated rejection of sacramentality as it was understood by the Roman church, not only with respect to the church’s seven sacraments, but also as a comprehensive, biblical view of reality in which the transcendent God manifests himself in and through the natural, material world.

I have been in conversations before with Roman Catholics about a sacramental view of the universe and it still leaves be flummoxed. It is akin to the Reformed w-w phenomenon where Christianity is nothing unless it provides a comprehensive account of everything. Aside from such similarities, a sacramental view of the universe where nature is filled with grace (and according to Gregory makes plausible the weekly real presence of Christ in the Mass) would seem to undermine the significance and uniqueness of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. If God is present everywhere in a gracious and sacramental way, then why bother with the real sacraments? Gregory’s understanding of the “traditional” Christian view against which the Reformers reacted is not one apparently shared by the U.S. Bishops responsible for the Baltimore Catechism:

136. Q. What is a Sacrament?
A. A Sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace.
137. Q. How many Sacraments are there?
A. There are seven Sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist, Penance, Extreme Unction, Holy Orders, and Matrimony.
138. Q. Whence have the Sacraments the power of giving grace?
A. The Sacraments have the power of giving grace from the merits of Jesus Christ.
139. Q. What grace do the Sacraments give?
A. Some of the Sacraments give sanctifying grace, and others increase it in our souls.

I suppose Gregory is aware of this and would not want to say that a sunrise or a waterfall are sacraments. If that’s so, then he needs to qualify what he means by a “sacramental” view of the universe. But he doesn’t:

Desacramentalized and denuded of God’s presence via a metaphysical univocity and Occam’s razor, the natural world would cease to be either the Catholic theater of God’s grace or the playground of Satan as Luther’s princeps mundi. Instead, it would become so much raw material awaiting the imprint of human desires. (57)

Gregory’s failure to qualify sacramentality reminds me of a point that the sociologist Steve Bruce made effectively about the transcendent God professed by Jews and early Christians in contrast to the polytheistic religions of their contemporaries. Here I borrow a few paragraphs from A Secular Faith which follow Bruce:

Christianity’s friendliness to if not encouragement of the secular is just as obvious to those who evaluate not only the differences between East and West, or between Christian and Muslim, but the rise and development of modernity, for some the much feared engine of secularization in Europe and North America. Steve Bruce, a British sociologist of religion, observes that one of the key factors in modernization is another infelicitous word, to which sociology is prone, rationalization. By this he means the eradication of the cosmic order typical of civilizations in Egypt and Mesopotamia in which distinctions between the natural and supernatural worlds, or between the human and non-human were fluid or non-existent. In effect, the divine was bound up with the cosmos, immanent in and throughout the world. But with rise of monotheism in ancient Israel, God became radically transcendent and other. As Bruce explains, the God of Israel “was so distanced from [his followers] as to be beyond magical manipulation.” This deity’s laws could be known and had to be obeyed, but he could not be “bribed, cajoled, or tricked into doing his worshipers’ will.” Bruce argues that in the same way that ancient Judaism introduced a transcendent God into ancient near eastern religion, Christianity did the same in the Roman Empire where previously “a horde of gods, or spirits, often behaving in an arbitrary fashion and operating at cross purposes, makes the relationship of supernatural and natural worlds unpredictable.” Christianity “systematized” the supernatural and made religion much less a matter of magic than a code of conduct or right response to divine order.

Although Roman Catholicism, in Bruce’s scheme, began to remythologize the cosmos and people the universe with angels, saints, and other “semi-divine beings,” the Protestant Reformation “demythologized” the world. . . . For Bruce, Protestantism “eliminated ritual and sacramental manipulation of God, and restored the process of ethical rationalization.” Historians of science have argued that this sort of rationalization was key to the development of scientific discovery. As Bruce explains, “Modern science is not easy for cultures which believe that the world is pervaded by supernatural spirits or that the divinities are unpredictable” because systematic inquiry into the natural world assumes that “the behaviour of matter is indeed regular.” Consequently, with Protestantism the domain over which religion “offered the most compelling explanations” narrowed considerably. In fact, the Protestant Reformation’s secularizing impulse reduced the power of the church and “made way for a variety of thought and for the questioning of tradition which is so vital to natural science.” (247-48)

Gregory makes it clear that he is not comfortable with the disenchanted world of modern science. But what he does not apparently consider is that such disenchantment follows from a rigorously monotheistic faith where God is completely other, except when he intervenes miraculously to reveal himself to his creatures. In between those breakthroughs, humans have no definite knowledge of what God is up to, or what developments in history or nature mean. Discomfort with a God who is beyond our ways and who only reveals himself in limited (though blessed) ways seems to be one reason why people are hostile to Calvinism (and may even explain why neo-Calvinists want to break down distinctions between the sacred and secular — they want the universe to be an obvious theater not of God’s grace but of Christ’s sovereignty).

Debtors to Ireland

Published on by D. G. Hart30 Comments

It was a soft landing mainly coming back from Dublin over the weekend. Encountering a Buffalo Wild Wings store — how could you possibly call that a restaurant — was certainly a reminder of how bizarre American culture must look even to other Westerners. Comparing a BWW to O’Neill’s pub in Dublin may not be fair. But I am not sure why one room needs what seemed like 67 television screens. Back in Dublin, not even all the screens were on even if a soccer match was available. And some patrons came to the pub to talk about the choral concert they had heard at the University, others were playing a friendly game of cards, and young men predictably were picking up girls (while also unexpectedly explaining Ireland’s strict divorce laws). Having the Fighting Irish on against U.S.C. did not make up for the difference.

The Mrs. and I spent the night in Illinois (having flown to and from O’Hare) and so worshiped yesterday at an area Orthodox Presbyterian congregation before driving back to Hillsdale. We were greeted by the invocation of a minister whose roots, according to accent, were in Scotland. I know that Ireland and Scotland represent distinct forms of resisting England, with Northern Ireland throwing an odd wrench into such patterns of resistance. But the Scottish accent was a pleasant echo of our previous Sunday’s worship in Belfast among the Evangelical Presbyterians. Helping the transition was singing the eighth-century Irish hymn, “Be Thou My Vision.” Since only two days before we had seen a round tower at Glendalough, the site of remains from a seventh-century monastery founded by St. Kevin, the line, “Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight; Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower,” took on added significance.

One of the arresting aspects of Orthodox Presbyterian life is that we are ethnically a denomination of mongrels. Of course, the dominant ethnicity in the OPC is the one that comes to most immigrants after they have lived in the U.S. for generations. At the same time, since hyphenated Americans like John Murray and Cornelius Van Til were so crucial to the first thirty years of the OPC’s history, the denomination has always made room for European expressions of Reformed Protestantism in ways unusual among other American Presbyterian communions. This was particularly true of the OPC congregation where we worshiped yesterday. In addition to having a minister of recent Scottish origin, the session was composed of men all with Dutch names. Rare would be the mingling of Scottish or Scotch-Irish and Dutch Reformed constituencies in Ireland and Scotland. In the United States, it is at least possible if not common. Not to be missed is what the tensions among the various Reformed groups look like in North America. My sense is that the Dutch compete for dominance in ways unimaginable to the Scots and Ulster Presbyterians. Is that a function of ethnicity? Or is it the result of an intellectual tick in Kuyperianism compared to a tiredness among proponents of covenanting or the establishment principle?

The presence of pastors in American Presbyterian circles from Scotland and Northern Ireland does raise an important question about the United States’ relative hegemony in world affairs, not just politically but also ecclesiastically. Because this nation is one of the most powerful and wealthiest in the world, its congregations, even in sideline denominations like the OPC, can afford to pay pastors more than congregations can in Ireland and the United Kingdom. Carl Trueman sometime ago discussed the significance of a British invasion among Reformed and Presbyterian churches in the U.S. What I worry about is the brain drain from other parts of the world. Of course, American communions should not refuse to call men from other nations — that would be remarkably provincial and prevent Christians in the United States from benefiting from insights from other groups of believers. At the same time, American openness to internationals can be naive to the toll that the transfer of gifted pastors from other nations has on the exporting churches. Americans may benefit from gifted Brits, but what benefit to the British churches receive from losing their leading pastors?

For that reason, I propose that every time a congregation in the United States calls a pastor from another country, that congregation (and possibly presbytery or classis) also send back some form of subsidy to the communion that lost its minister to the United States. Monetary assistance would be one form that this subsidy could take. If denominations in the United States were willing to assist foreign denominations financially, perhaps some gifted ministers would remain in their native lands. But U.S. Reformed and Presbyterians might also consider sending to other Reformed communions (and picking up the tab) young ministers who for a short tenure of two or three years would help to plant other congregations or assist busy ministers in established works.

These are a couple of thoughts off the top of a jet-lagged head that may need more clarity. Whatever these ideas’ merits, Christians in the United States should consider the balance of trade within international Calvinism as much as they worry about their nation’s trade deficit.

First Turkey, Now Ireland — Sheesh!

Published on by D. G. Hart220 Comments

The better half and I are in the middle of a week-long trip to Ireland that now has me working away as part of a visiting-faculty assignment at Trinity College in Dublin. We began the week in Northern Ireland with new and old friends. The new ones are officers and members of the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (no relations to the communion of the same name in the U.S.) who were eminently kind and hospitable hosts during a day of interactions, both formal and informal. On Monday night I had the privilege of speaking at a rally to honor the 85th anniversary of the EPC. My topic was “Principle Presbyterianism Today.”

One of the curious features of Presbyterianism in Northern Ireland is that the conservatives (the Evangelical Presbyterians) who have the most affinities with Orthodox Presbyterians also seem to be a bit despondent about their prospects. The EPC began in 1927 during a theological controversy which saw the Presbyterian Church of Ireland fail to discipline a professor at the church’s theological college for teaching views that were clearly outside the Confession of Faith and heterodox more generally. The EPC has always struggled as a small denomination. But now that the Presbyterian Church of Ireland has become increasingly evangelical itself (though it still ordains women — which would make the PCI more like the U.S. Evangelical Presbyterian Church), the Irish EPC lacks the rationale and clarity of vision that once animated the church. If your target no longer exists, you may appear to be shooting blanks.

Although the EPC is small — it has about 400 members with another 350 regular attenders — its size is proportionally much larger than the OPC. If Northern Ireland has approximately 1.6 million people, compared to a U.S. population of close to 300 million, the EPC within a U.S. numerical setting would account proportionately for almost 225,000 people (if my math is correct). That means that the EPC is almost seven times as large proportionately as the OPC which has a membership of roughly 30,000. Since Americans are never at a wont for overestimating their influence, the smallness of the OPC has not left the denomination with a sense of insignificance. Mark Noll’s image of the Pea Beneath the Mattress has generally typified the mindset of Orthodox Presbyterians. I hope the Evangelical Presbyterians of Ireland can find a similar diminutive vigor.

One other set of reflections worth making for now is the lack of a Dutch Reformed influence on Scotland and Ireland. On Monday morning I had a “lovely” time describing Calvinism in the United States to a small (how could it be large) group of EPC ministers and elders. I went through the classic threefold division of Reformed Protestants in North America — the doctrinalists (Machenites), culturalists (Kuyperians), and experimental Calvinists (Whitefieldians and Edwardsians). My EPC interlocutors were quick to point out that the Kuyperian tradition of transformationalism has never been a presence in Irish Presbyterianism.

Of course, that does not mean that the Scots and Irish don’t have other resources for trying to do what Kuyper did. Thomas Chalmers and the Free Church of Scotland have maintained a notion of the establishment principle that affirms in a different way what Kuyper tried to express when he spoke about every square inch. And not to be missed are the incredibly complicated relations in Northern Ireland between religion and politics, hence the sheesh in the title of this post. I had thought after visiting Turkey that the notion of a secular Muslim state was sufficiently complex to merit further consideration. But to read as I am this week about the various Presbyterian versions of church-state relations, not to mention the endlessly fascinating and troubling history of Protestant-Roman Catholic relations in Northern Ireland since the initial push for Home Rule, makes my head explode (in a good way, of course).

What is interesting to observe at this point, though, is that for all of their claims about the Lordship of Christ, whether over the church or over the state, the Scots and their Irish Presbyterian cousins have never seemed to put much stock in epistemological self-consciousness. Why do you need philosophy and the arts when law and authority are hard enough to conjure?