Justice and the gospel: Bruce Longenecker on Paul and the poor.
Joel Willits offers a review of my former colleague Bruce Longenecker’s recent book Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Eerdmans) over at Euangelion. I have not yet seen a copy, but Bruce was working in these directions before he left St Andrews for Baylor, and I think I can guess something of how the argument goes: although there is not an enormous amount of emphasis in the NT texts on Paul’s ongoing concern for the collection for the church in Jerusalem, or for caring for economically-disadvantaged members of the community, there is some; if we consider the then-prevalent assumption amongst devout diaspora Jews (like Paul…) that charity was an essential component of acceptable worship, then we can reconstruct on the basis of the evidence we do have a picture of concern for the poor, and particularly concern that the gentile churches should relieve the poverty of the mother church in Jerusalem, as being central to Paul’s vision of his own mission, and of the Christian identity of the churches he founded. Rather like Finney refusing to allow someone to profess Christianity without committing to the abolitionist cause, Paul could not conceive of a church that was not involved in (what we would now call) social justice; it is as intrinsic to the gospel as worship, discipleship, and mission – actually, it just is worship, discipleship, and mission, in Paul’s view. As Joel points out, this is a timely reminder. Joel himself has recently offered a substantial review of Kevin DeYoung and Greg Gilbert’s What is the Mission of the Church?, which is only the latest of a stream of publications arguing that social justice, whilst perhaps commendable, is no part of the core business of a Christian community. I understand the concern that, sometimes, justice has been perceived as an easier and less costly practice than other forms of gospel witness, and so has been allowed to displace them. The answer to this, though, is not so to swing the pendulum as to neglect this aspect of gospel witness instead. The bloodless conquest of the Empire by the early church was in large part achieved by a sustained and serious practice of social justice; bishops took the title ‘lovers of the poor,’ and lived it so well that, over a century or so, they constructed a new and previously-unimagined political power-base that propelled them to positions of prominence in almost every city of the Empire (Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity, is very good on this; start around pp. 90-100). Human hearts were conquered by the fearless witness of the martyrs; but the culture was conquered – whilst the church was still a minority movement – by a faithful practice of social justice. Paul consulted once with Peter and James and John about the ethical implications of belief in Jesus; one thing only was agreed to be non-negotiable by all four of them: ‘remember the poor’ (Gal. 2:10). This is at the heart of the...
Read MoreThe oddness of living post-Christendom
Iain made a comment on the previous post about the post-Christian cultural context in which we now live, and the sheer lack of understanding of Biblical/theological references that is now general amongst the Scottish population. I take the point, but it is more complex than just ignorance… Pre-Christian societies are simply ignorant of the gospel. Nobody knows anything; the evangelist must start from scratch, finding culturally-meaningful resonances that start to make gospel narratives comprehensible. Meeting a new person, it is a very safe bet that they know nothing of the gospel, have no memory of Biblical narratives, and have no inkling of central theological concepts (‘grace’; ‘redemption’; ‘incarnation’; ‘creation’; ‘resurrection’). Christendom societies – which perhaps still includes some or even much of the USA – are contexts where one may not assume that someone one meets has faith, but one may assume that Biblical stories and theological concepts are meaningful to them, even if those stories and meanings are misunderstood or distorted. Post-christian societies – the whole of Europe, except perhaps Poland; Canada too, I believe – are more complicated. Certainly one must be prepared for astonishing ignorance of the basic grammar of faith and of the most foundational stories. My old friend Stuart Murray-Williams collects and distributes anecdotes to remind us of the extent of the ignorance we might encounter; one concerns an English tour party being shown Gaudi’s magnificent Sagrada Familia in Barcelona (it’s the only thing in Barcelona more stunning than what goes on on the pitch of the Nou Camp – could there be higher praise?). The details of the decoration are being pointed out, including a magic square, with everything adding up to 33, because, the guide explains, that’s the age at which Jesus died. A teenage lass at the back comments, ‘That’s very young – what did he die of?’ Certainly, that’s a significant part of the reality of living post-Christendom: an ignorance as complete as any pagan living before the first missionaries arrived. Equally, however, there are pockets of remembered faith. Iain mentioned specifically the non-denominational schools in Scotland; I know what he means, but I also know that the village school our daughters attend does a fair job of introducing its pupils to the basic stories and grammar of Christianity. It is fashionable in some circles to criticise the Alpha course because of how much it assumes about the basics of Christianity. The criticism is in one sense fair, but the course in its origin was designed by someone whose education ran from Eton to Oxbridge for others with the same sort of background. In the public schools (=’expensive and exclusive fee-paying schools’, if you’re not up on the curious British vernacular) chaplains are employed, Religious Education is extensive and straightforwardly Christian, and chapel attendance is often compulsory, or at least normal. When these kids get to university – we see it in St Andrews; it’s more pronounced in Oxbridge – they still regularly attend college chapel, because that is what one does of a Sunday. They have a selective, but ingrained, knowledge of Biblical narrative and Christian concepts; to reach them with the gospel one should assume this, and build on it, as the Alpha course does. Pre-Christendom, meeting someone new, I could assume they knew nothing; in Christendom, meeting someone knew, I could assume they knew much; post-Christendom, I can make no assumptions; she might be completely ignorant; she might have plentiful knowledge. In front of a crowd of British students, particularly, the challenge is to be relevant to both the extremes and everything in between. And it is...
Read More‘the fuel for mission’s flame’?
I was on a website recently (no url, to protect the guilty…); in the corner was a counter, which purported to tell the visitor how many people had died and gone to hell since s/he arrived, with a brief homily underneath suggesting that active participation in evangelism would be an appropriate response. The crowning glory of this particular piece of crassness was the fact that whichever cheap/free html counter the website owner had borrowed counted to one decimal place. When I left, apparently, 153.7 people had been irretrievably damned during my visit. This came back to mind as I drove my daughters to school and nursery this morning. Matt Redman’s Facedown was in the car CD player, and I listened to the penultimate track: Let worship be the fuel for mission’s flame We’re going with a passion for your name We’re going for we care about your praise – Send us out. Let worship be the heart of mission’s aim To see the nations recognise your fame Till every tribe and tongue voices your praise – Send us out. What is the proper motivation for mission/evangelism? The website with which I began suggests concern for the lost; this (in less crass forms) has a noble history, not least in Evangelical spirituality: Frank Houghton’s ‘Facing a task unfinished’ for instance: Where other lords beside Thee Hold there unhindered sway Where forces that defied Thee Defy Thee still today With none to heed their crying For life and love and light Unnumbered souls are dying And pass into the night. Matt Redman’s song offers an alternative vision, where the motivation for missional engagement is not the fate of the lost but the glory of God. This is hardly less ‘conservative’ (if such labels worry you) – Jonathan Edwards would have agreed; so, I seem to recall, would John Piper. (In fact, probably a view of mission as serving God’s glory is the mark of the consistent Calvinist, and the other a more Arminian take.) Which is right? 2Cor 5:6-21 is interesting in this context. Just reading vv.10-11 might seem to offer support for a ‘evangelise them because they’re going to hell’ position, but the wider passage seems much more focused on the vision expressed in the Redman song: ‘we make it our aim to please him’ is the controlling thought. So what? Well, two things perhaps. If this is right, then one of the standard evangelical justifications for a traditional doctrine of hell, that it is important as a motivation for mission, is removed. Second, on this understanding our motivation for evangelism would be less about the results and more about faithfulness to a calling, which feels right to me. Love for God simply comes before love for neighbour,...
Read MoreChris Moyles’s commentary on charismatic worship
For those who don’t know, Chris Moyles is the most popular radio presenter in Britain; his morning show, on BBC Radio 1 (essentially a mainstream pop music station), attracts approaching 8m listeners. This video contains an extract from his show dubbed over the TV broadcast – of baptisms in a church in Peterborough – that they are discussing in the extract. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=StEDAjhuiTo] Four things strike me about the comments, considered as useful data for missional concern in the UK: 1. Moyles (who is 35) and his posse belong to a generation that is no longer reflexively cynical about church. Britain, and Europe, is often described as ‘post-Christian,’ but this phrase can mean two very different things, or so it seems to me. A culture can be ‘post-Christian’ in the sense that it has consciously turned away from its historic commitment to Christianity. Church is inevitably then regarded as comical, outdated, irrelevant. Or a culture can be ‘post-Christian’ in the sense that it has lost any memory of ever having been Christian. Church is then alien, but at least potentially interesting. I grew up with the tail-end of the former concept; Moyles, four years younger (and a lot more culturally current…), seems firmly in the latter. Across the country, I suspect Moyles’s attitude is common in urban and suburban areas, and more widely in SE England; here in rural Scotland, we are a bit behind the times on this one. 2. The clip also demonstrates the lack of even basic knowledge concerning Christianity that younger generations in Britain now have. This is a missional issue – the Alpha course, for instance, assumes a significant level of cultural Christian understanding in its teaching material. 3. What is it that Moyles found attractive about this church service? Two things, it seems to me. Obviously, enthusiasm, commitment, engagement was important – ‘I’ve been to gigs with less atmosphere’. The church presented itself as vibrant and exciting, and this is in itself attractive. 4. The second attraction, though, was the professionalism of the performance: ‘they had a proper perspex cage around the drum kit and everything…’ They were doing what they did well. No peeling paint, no worn carpets – and you just know that the after-service drinks were not served in institutional green...
Read MoreIncarnational ministry
The SST conference this year was particularly good. (The conference is always a great time of meeting old friends; this year several of the papers – Webster; Kilby; Sarot – were excellent as well, which is not always the case; and more folk from St Andrews attended than has been common recently, which was also a plus for me.) A recurrent theme of bar conversations (where all the best theology gets done at SST) was ‘buzzwords’: language that sounds positive and resonant, but on examination is unreflective, ill-defined, and so dangerously meaningless. ‘Participation’ was one such; ‘incarnational’ another. ‘Incarnational ministry’ seems still to be a popular phrase. As far as I can tell, its meaning, to the extent it has any, is a gesture towards a practice of Christian discipleship which involves simply being in a place, consciously refusing to challenge people or structures, but instead living a life of quiet piety and availability in the hope that this will serve as a witness to those around. It might well, of course, and there have been times when such a practice of mission was perhaps appropriate (the Mennonites survived by becoming ‘the quiet in the land’ in a bloodier age…), but is this really ‘incarnational’? Is this what Jesus did – quiet, non-confrontational living; service without preaching; being but never saying? It might not be wrong, but to dignify it by claiming it is uniquely true to the life of Christ seems to me rather ambitious. Jesus was not obviously quiet and non-confrontational; the authorities noticed Him, and feared Him, and did something about Him. ‘Incarnational ministry’ will not be quiet and non-confrontational either: by a holistic combination of word and deed, it will publicly and decisively undermine the authority structures of this world in the name of God’s Kingdom of justice and joy; it will mock our idols and critique our lives. It will be profoundly threatening to the culture it lives within. Truly incarnational ministry will end, invariably, in crucifixion – and the sure and certain hope of resurrection...
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