All posts by Michael O'Neil

About Michael O'Neil

Hi, thanks for stopping by! A couple of months ago a student gave me a cap embroidered with the words "Theology Matters." And so it does. I fervently believe that theology must not be an arcane academic pursuit reserved only for a few super-nerdy types. Rather, theology exists for the sake of the church and its mission. It exists to assist ordinary believers read and enact Scripture in authentic ways, together, and in their own locale, as a local body of faithful disciples of Jesus Christ. I love the way reading and studying Scripture and theology has deepened my faith, broadened my vision, enriched my ministry and changed my life. I hope that what you find here might help you along a similar path. A bit about me: I have been married to Monica for over thirty years now and we have served in various pastoral, teaching, missions and leadership roles for the whole of our lives together. We have three incredible adult children who with their partners, are the delight of our lives. For the last few years I have taught theology and overseen the research degrees programme at Vose Seminary in Perth, Western Australia. I also assist Monica in a new church planting endeavour in our city. In 2013 my first book was published: Church as Moral Community: Karl Barth’s Vision of Christian Life, 1915-1922 (Milton Keynes: Paternoster). I can say that without a doubt, it is the very best book I have ever written and well worth a read!

Scripture on Sundays – James 1:5

Scripture, , ,

Saint_James_the_JustJames 1:5
But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him.

James trusts that through the work of endurance we ultimately will be so complete as to “lack nothing” (v. 4). In the present, however, it is entirely possible that we may lack various attributes, among them, wisdom. This new paragraph continues James’ reflection on the theme of trials, and uses the link-word leipō (“lack”) to connect verse five to verse four.

Why does James single out wisdom rather than, say, peace or courage, love or unity? These, too, are significant and worthy virtues, even and especially in the midst of trials. But James directs his listeners to wisdom, and will later devote a whole section to wisdom as something he desires for his listeners. Wisdom is crucial to maturity. Wisdom is important in times of stress and trial. Wisdom guides action and response. Even James’ “knowing” in verse three is an aspect of wisdom. In singling out wisdom, James stands in a long Hebrew tradition which valued wisdom as “the principal thing” (cf. Proverbs 4:7 KJV). The best thing for which we might ask is not deliverance from trials but wisdom that we might conduct ourselves wisely in the midst of them.

What, exactly, is wisdom (sophia)? In the New Testament the term is used with a range of meanings, including the knowledge of God’s plan of salvation or of God’s eschatological purpose (e.g. 1 Corinthians 1:18-30; Ephesians 1:8-11). In his first letter to the Corinthians and that to the Colossians, Paul contrasted forms of speculative religious wisdom with the true wisdom which is found in Christ. Members of these communities wanted to appear spiritually wise by claiming secret forms of wisdom by which they knew spiritual mysteries, or the processes by which to become truly spiritual (Colossians 2:8-23). Paul rejects these religious expressions of wisdom as worldly. So, too, James contrasts earthly wisdom with that true wisdom which is from above (3:13-18). Since the true wisdom is from above, it is a gift given by God rather than a natural endowment humanity is graced with or can develop apart from a relationship with God. The wisdom humanity can develop is earth-bound rather than divine. In this text, then, James shows us that wisdom is given to the believer in response to prayer. It is not a speculative kind of wisdom intent on exploring and explaining esoteric spiritual mysteries. It is spiritual wisdom—the gift of God—but is also intensely practical, providing a true perspective on the nature of life and trials, and oriented to the kind of virtuous character befitting the people of God. Moo (62) identifies wisdom as a practically oriented virtue that gives life direction for the godly. It includes insight into God’s will and the way that will is to be applied in the common circumstances of life. For Davids (72), this gift from God enables the believing community to see history from a divine perspective and so also enables them to stand firm in the midst of the trial.

Hence James commands any who lack wisdom to ask for it: aiteitō (ask), as a present imperative suggests that God’s people should continually ask for such wisdom, and indeed may do so with great confidence because the God to whom the prayer is addressed is “the giving God.” By declaring God to be the giving God (para tou didontos theou) who gives generously or wholeheartedly (haplōs) and without reproach (oneidizontos) to all (pasiv), James provides great assurance to those who pray to this God for wisdom: “it will be given to them” (kai dothēsetai autō).

Confidence in prayer is the fruit of confidence in God, which in turn is based upon the knowledge of God’s gracious character and God’s will (cf. 1 John 5:14-15). James simply assumes (no doubt on the basis of the Old Testament, e.g. Proverbs 2:1-5) that God wills to give wisdom to his people. Thus his whole focus is on the generous character of God whose generosity is universal, indiscriminate and inclusive (“to all”; cf. Matthew 5:45 where God gives sunshine and rain to all indiscriminately). This generosity is underlined in James’ use of haplōs, which appears in this form only here in the New Testament. The word is usually translated in English versions as “generously” which is an appropriate translation. But it also means “singly” or “simply” in the sense of being undivided, wholehearted, or perhaps best, given the thought James will develop in verses 6-8, “single-mindedly.” That is, God is wholeheartedly and single-mindedly generous. Or as Vlachos (25) so nicely states it, “God’s giving is as wholehearted as it is universal.” To emphasise the point James also notes that God gives freely and without reproach, without demeaning the recipient or showering them with shame. God is no “fool” who gives with one hand and takes back with another, generous with nothing except criticism (cf. Sirach 20:14-15). Those who come to God in prayer will find that God gives sincerely and without reserve or criticism. God’s commitment to his people is total and unreserved, and so they may expect to receive (Davids, 73). How, then, can we be double-minded toward a God who is so single-mindedly generous?

The Gospel Coalition in Australia

Theology,

TGC11-PanelThe Gospel Coalition have started an Australian chapter and appointed a founding Council which will conduct its first meeting in early August. According to their website,

We have no fixed agenda other than to build gospel partnerships and then do whatever we can to promote the same kind of gospel-driven relationships across our nation as we work together for the sake of Jesus Christ.

Hurray, I can applaud that! Would any Evangelical Christian not support the development of gospel partnerships to work together for the sake of Jesus Christ?

However, it is not quite that simple, for TGC – as they are often known – are not simply concerned about the gospel per se, but a particular understanding of what constitutes the gospel, and what the gospel entails.

I actually welcome much of what TGC stands for: I too affirm the centrality of the gospel, the necessity of proclaiming it faithfully, fervently, prayerfully, trusting the Holy Spirit to work a miracle of grace in the hearts and lives of men, women and children; I appreciate the scholarship of D.A. Carson even if I do not agree with all his positions; I value and admire the pastoral ministry, preaching and leadership of Tim Keller; I also hold a broadly Reformed approach to doctrine including the undiminished sovereignty of God, the uniqueness, supremacy and sole-sufficiency of Jesus Christ for salvation, the priority of grace in salvation, etc.

But still I have concerns. I am concerned at the shrill voices of some in TGC against those who may have a different understanding of the gospel, doctrine or Scripture. I have been concerned by the way some of their high-profile leaders have misused their platform and power, and hope that these things have now been corrected. I am concerned that their posture is sometimes more reactionary than biblically faithful, though I am sure they would disagree with me on this.

But it does highlight my central concern: that TGC is unnecessarily narrow and prescriptive in their definition of the gospel, to the point of including as part of the gospel aspects of teaching which are clearly not part of the gospel in the New Testament sense. This is especially apparent with respect to their commitment to complementarianism, which they extrapolate from biological complementarity in their statement of faith.

As a Baptist I gladly extend to them the freedom to interpret Scripture and practice their faith in accordance with their conscience and their conscientious examination and explication of Scripture. I also acknowledge the reality that formal Confessions of faith express the faith of the group that makes them, and are not in that sense binding on others. Thus TGC have every right under Christ to organise themselves around their firmly held beliefs.

But it seems odd to elevate particular interpretations of Scripture to canonical status. It seems at odds with their stated purpose to use a clarion call to faithful gospel ministry to exclude other Christians seeking to practise a God-glorifying, gospel-centred, Bible-believing, Evangelical form of faith. And, of course, I think it is a great shame that they have sought to appoint a somewhat representative Council, but without a single woman. I understand that they are being consistent in the application of their principle; it is just that I am convinced – on the grounds of Scripture – that their principle is wrong.

I wish TGC Australia a fruitful and effective ministry in the gospel, and sincerely hope that their activity serves, in this country, to further the cause of the gospel and the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. I worry that their intention to build “the same kind of gospel relationships across our country” may in fact “proclaim Christ out of partisanship” and so increase division and fractiousness, unless there is an equally strong intention to practise a gracious theological hospitality to those who differ from them in matters not central to the gospel. Still: “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed; and in that I rejoice.”

On Being a Reader – Even of Scripture

Books, Literature, Scripture, , ,

Pride and Prejudice - PenguinIn 1972, Tony Tanner’s introduction to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice notes:

For during a decade in which Napoleon was effectively engaging, if not transforming, Europe, Jane Austen composed a novel in which the most important events are the fact that a man changes his manners and a young lady changes her mind… Jane Austen’s book is, most importantly, about pre-judging and re-judging. It is a drama of recognition – re-cognition, that act by which the mind can look again at a thing and if necessary make revisions and amendments until it sees the thing as it really is (368-369).

Tanner’s introduction (see Austen, J. Pride and Prejudice, Penguin Classics edition, 1996), provides a psychological reading of Austen’s masterpiece, using the work of Hume as a lens. In his view, Pride and Prejudice deals with issues of character, decisions and “first impressions” (Austen’s working title for the book before its publication).

In the same edition an updated introduction is provided by Vivien Jones, who notes:

Written in a period of political crisis and social mobility, [Austen’s novels] are strategic critical analyses of the moral values and modes of behaviour through which a section of the ruling class was redefining itself … She writes, therefore, about femininity and about class: about forms of identity and about marriage as a political institution which reproduces – symbolically as well as literally – the social order. …

Selfconscious, rational, sceptical: Elizabeth is an Enlightenment figure skilfully integrated, through the mechanisms of romantic comedy, into the traditional Burkean hierarchy which Enlightenment values sought to dismantle…

Romantic love makes individual happiness both the motivation and the goal of moral and social change. … So the power to motivate and reward change, both personal and social, lies with the woman. … This plot formula seems to give women, and the values they represent, a lot of power and responsibility. But it is power of a carefully circumscribed kind. The social order has been modified, not radically altered. Austen’s post-revolutionary achievement in Pride and Prejudice is to put Wollstonecraft’s revolutionary femininity at the service of the Burkean ‘family party’ by writing what is still one of the most perfect, most pleasurable and most subtle – and therefore, perhaps, most dangerously persuasive – of romatic love stories (xv, xxxii, xxxv).

Jones and Tanner are two very different readers of the same story, and provide an excellent example of the reality that who the reader is and what they bring to a text makes a decisive difference to the way they read the text and what they see in it.  Tanner sees a wonderfully written romantic comedy devoid of political significance, while Jones sees a wonderfully written romantic comedy that serves as a vehicle for a sophisticated political vision that fuses elements of early feminism and conservative Burkean hierarchy, against a backdrop of revolutionary France.

It is likely that Tanner was unable to even see what Jones has seen in the story. It is not simply that Jones reads as a woman, though I suspect that is part of it. She is also schooled in feminist literature and history and so is alive and sensitive to issues in Austen’s context that Tanner simply did not see. Is Jones over-reading the novel, seeing in it things that are not there? This is a danger confronting every reader, and could legitimately be asked of Tanner as well. But no, her reading of Austen is insightful and well-supported. Both introductions are excellent and well worth reading, and Penguin is to be commended for keeping them both in their revised volume. They highlight development in Austen scholarship between the early 70s and mid 90s, and feminist contributions to literary study.

They alert us also to the significance of the reader which has evident implications for readers of Scripture. We do not simply read the biblical text in some kind of unfiltered way, gaining direct and unmediated access to “the truth.” Every act of reading is also an act of interpretation, and we interpret what we read according to the frameworks of understanding we bring to the text – whether consciously or unconsciously, whether well or ill-informed.

What has shaped you as a reader?

Scripture on Sundays – James 1:4

Scripture, ,

Saint_James_the_JustJames 1:4
And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing (NASB)

James now uses a second imperative to instruct his listeners, commanding them to let (echetō) endurance have its full effect (NRSV), perfect result (NASB), or literally, perfect work (ergon teleion). In view of James’ later discussion of faith and works, it is of interest that he introduces the concept of work here, at the start of his letter. Indeed, as we saw in verse three, the testing of our faith “works” endurance; now the believing community must let this work occur. That is, James commands his listeners to continue to persevere, to “keep on keeping on” for as long as the test continues. The testing of our faith produces endurance as we endure. As a muscle is strengthened through use, so endurance develops through exercise. The temptation is to capitulate before the test has run its course, to relinquish faith, to cave in under pressure, to walk away.

Just as James’ first imperative (consider it all joy) was tied to a foundation of common knowledge (knowing…), so his second imperative is now tied to a purpose statement: so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James now holds before his listeners the end result of endurance if they will allow it to do its work: they will be “perfect.” It is impossible to miss James’ play on words in this verse, concerning the perfect work of endurance which results in the perfection of the people of God. The “full effect” or “perfect result” of endurance is not simply to outlast the particular test we are enduring, nor simply to grow more robust in endurance itself. Rather, it is the perfection and completeness of godly character. Perfect (teleios) and complete (holoklēros) function as synonyms, though with a slightly different sense. Teleios connotes a perfection beyond which there is no degree, whereas holoklēros denotes perfection in every part (Vlachos, 20). An interesting parallel to this verse is found in Paul’s prayer of 1 Thessalonians 5:23 where he prays that the Thessalonians may be perfectly sanctified in every aspect of their being, that is, in their whole “spirit and soul and body.” Douglas Moo (61) regards this perfection as the eschatological perfection towards which we strive but which will only be realised in the eschaton. Scot McKnight (81f.) prefers to see it not as “sinless perfection,” but as real behavioural maturity, a way of life and being in which genuine virtue is a reality rather than simply an abstract ideal.

The final phrase—lacking in nothing—is simply a negative confirmation and restatement of the positive message of being “perfect and complete.” To lack nothing, in other words, is to have everything. Such is the power of endurance, in James’ vision of the moral life!

It is worth noting that James directs these exhortations to the community as a whole rather than to individual believers (adelphoi mou – my brothers and sisters; note further that all the grammatical signifiers are second-person plurals). It is the community of God’s people which must rejoice in the midst of hardship and struggle, helping each person to understand their calling, and so to endure. It is the community of God’s people which will ultimately be perfect and entire, lacking in nothing. When one particular member of the community suffers the whole community is threatened. When the community as a whole is under attack, each particular member has a crucial part to play, so that the whole community may be encouraged to rejoice and to endure.

*****

Thus James begins his letter to his suffering listeners with two imperatives supported by an appeal to what they know (v. 3), and to what they are destined to become (v. 4). His teaching here is not unique, however, and very similar passages are found elsewhere in the New Testament:

Romans 5:3-5
And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

1 Peter 1:6-7 
In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honour at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

These passages are similar to James in both language and concept. In Romans, Paul notes that believers exult in tribulations (thlipsis) knowing that tribulation brings about (katergazetai) perseverance (hypomonē), and perseverance, proven character (dokimēn). The apostle Peter also writes to communities distressed by various trials, which serve to prove the genuineness of their faith and so result in glorification at the coming of Jesus. His point is slightly different to that of James who is not concerned with the proof of their faith but with their steadfastness.

That these three authors each use this common language and conceptuality suggests that this was traditional and common knowledge amongst the early Christian communities. It is on this basis that James can readily say, “Because you know…” They did in fact know this as common community knowledge. Lying behind James’ exhortation then is a vision of what constitutes the Christian life, and in fact, what it means to be truly human: that is, to be a person and a community which is perfect, completely sound and whole, mature behaviourally, morally and relationally. The ground and possibility of this maturity is faith—right relation to God which issues in a “rightness” of being. The tests which assail the community intend to draw God’s people away from this faith, to tempt them to seek their own justice and their own right, to become, in Luther’s terms, homo incurvatus in se – humanity curved in on itself. But James will have none of this. Although his vision is urgently framed in terms of the apocalyptic confrontation of evil powers and eschatological hope, it has a very real and practical aim. James is not simply giving out good practical advice for “turning lemons into lemonade,” so that God’s people can be blessed in spite of trials. This is not a prosperity gospel whereby every trial is a stepping stone to greater victories so that we lack no (earthly) thing. James writes to shape the vision, character and way of the community in the world. God’s intent is a people steadfast in faith and mature in character, living in the midst of the kingdom of darkness but bearing witness to the kingdom of light. No wonder trials come! Yet when and as they do arise, somehow, by the mysterious work of the Spirit of grace, the trials designed to destroy our faith, develop endurance and this endurance goes to work in us building character, maturity and virtue. In these opening verses of his letter then, James offers us a vision of what it means to be truly human, and indicates a process for realising this vision.

Reading Scripture Theologically

Scripture, Theology, ,

Expository Times 125-10Former Vose New Testament lecturer, Richard Moore has an article in the present issue of Expository Times (Vol. 125, No. 10 (July 2014)), together with a response from NT Wright. (There are other Perth links in the issue with a review of Matthew Malcolm’s The World of 1 Corinthians, and a review article of Bill Loader’s The New Testament on Sexuality: Attitudes towards sexuality in Judaism and Christianity in the Hellenistic Greco-Roman Era).

Richard’s article is sharply focussed on a particular issue: how Wright translates the Greek word dikaiosunē (“righteousness,” “justification”) and its cognates in Wright’s translation of the Greek New Testament into English (The New Testament for Everyone). Richard has two interests at work here: first, he has spent a lifetime exploring Paul’s use and doctrine of dikaiosunē, in the New Testament, in the history of the church, and English bible translations; and second, he has just completed his own translation of the New Testament Under the Southern Cross: The New Testament in Australian English, to be published later this year.

Richard finds fault with Wright’s translation because of the many different English words Wright uses to translate the same Greek word: “This can only confuse his reader, and, of course, prevent the reader from hearing what Paul is actually saying in this section” (485). A subsidiary concern is that Wright’s translation is idiosyncratic, illegitimately importing notions of covenant theology into Paul’s theology of justification, whereas for Richard, “Paul was not a covenant theologian” (485; original emphasis).

In his response to Richard’s article, Wright defends his translation by focussing on the covenantal context of the primary Old Testament passages from the Abrahamic narrative, and by using his own linguistic arguments to demonstrate that Paul has the Septuagint in mind as he writes, which links covenant and righteousness. Though Paul only infrequently uses covenantal language, the whole context of the passages he is citing from Genesis are covenantal in nature, where God’s gift of right relationship is grounded in God’s covenant. Wright therefore argues that his translation attempts to elucidate what he considers to be Paul’s theological perspective, and that it requires the kind of English language terms and idioms he has used.

What is evident in this minor dispute is that the two authors have two ways of approaching the tasks of exegesis and biblical theology. At the level of translation, Richard appropriately argues for consistency so that the English translation has strong linguistic connections with the underlying Greek text. His argument is not, I think, without merit this point, for it appears that Wright goes beyond translation to exposition by importing his particular understanding of Paul into the work of translation.

I am not competent, ultimately, to adjudicate this dispute about what constitutes faithful interpretation. My interest concerns the way these two theologians have read the biblical text, at least as that is represented in these two articles. At base, there is a fundamentally different understanding between the two authors, as to what, precisely, Paul means when he uses dikaiosunē language. It seems that the root of this difference are different ways of reading Scripture, with different weight being given to linguistic, grammatical, and narrative features of the biblical texts. Both authors read Scripture theologically, and both bring an interpretation to Paul. But since their method of engaging Scripture differs, so too do their resulting theologies.

Scripture on Sundays – James 1:3

Scripture, , ,

Saint_James_the_JustJames 1:3
Knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance (NASB)

In this verse, James provides the first rationale for his command in verse two. Believers are to “consider it all joy” when they fall into various trials because they know (ginōskontes hoti) something: that the trial of their faith produces endurance. James assumes this knowledge on the part of his listeners, as though it constitutes a common stock of knowledge generally available. The word James uses to refer to the testing (to dokimion) of their faith is rare in the Greek, appearing elsewhere only in Psalm 12:6, Proverbs 27:21 (Septuagint), and in 1 Peter 1:7. The Old Testament references provide useful imagery for understanding the nature of trials. As a furnace is used to refine and purify silver, so the tests faced by James’ hearers serve also to  “refine” and “purify” them. The imagery of the furnace captures the unpleasant and potentially destructive force and nature of the testing, while the result of the process is seen as valuable and desirable and so as the grounds for rejoicing.

What is being tested is their faith. According to Vlachos, the trial is intended to refine and strengthen a faith that already exists rather than to test whether faith is present or not (18). This idea seems to align with Peter’s use of the same language in 1 Peter 1:6-7 where he speaks of the suffering believers’ faith being proved or shown to be genuine (dokimion). Indeed, many commentators suggest that the purpose of the test is the purification and maturity of the believer (e.g. McKnight, 69, and Moo, 61). In this view, God is the refiner who places his people into the furnace in order to remove the impurities from their lives and so present them as mature.

Nevertheless it is important here to distinguish between purpose and effect when interpreting these verses. It is at least possible that in James’ mind the purpose of the tests is to destroy the faith of God’s people. This is a quite common mindset in the New Testament, and sees the origin of the tests in the more sinister agency of Satan, the “accuser of the brethren” (Revelation 12:10), rather than in the more benevolent attentions of God. Perhaps more directly relevant to this passage is Paul’s concern in 1 Thessalonians 3:5 that “the tempter” (ho peirazōv) might have rendered his missionary labour amongst the Thessalonians vain by the persecutions they endured, or Jesus’ words to Peter in Luke 22:31-32: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has demanded to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” In both cases the blowtorch is applied to the believers’ faith with the intent of destroying it, and in both cases there is the theoretical possibility at least, that their faith might actually be lost. Other texts might also be adduced. Jesus warns that “Satan comes immediately” to take away the Word whenever it is sown (Mark 4:15; cf. 2 Corinthians 11:3). The pattern is seen in his own temptations following his experience of the Spirit at his baptism (Luke 4:1-13). The apostle Peter speaks of “your adversary the devil” who prowls around like a roaring lion seeking those whom he may devour. Nor are Peter’s readers unique in this respect: all believers are subject to this common suffering and must likewise stand firm in faith, resisting the devil (1 Peter 5:8-9; cf. James 4:7-8). The classic texts of Ephesians 6:10-18 and Revelation 12:7-17 situate these tests within the broader drama of cosmic spiritual warfare and an apocalyptic worldview.

To read James according to this view is to think of the tests as a threat to faith. As such, they do not have a divinely intended purpose, nor are they “sent by God to teach us or perfect us” as is commonly said in Christian circles. Rather, as specific tactics in an ongoing war against the people of God, they intend not to build or develop faith but to destroy it. Their purpose is not to teach us but to tempt us, not to lead the believer towards maturation but capitulation, so that they lose faith in God and let go of the hope that faith inspires.

It may be that many modern readers react against the apocalyptic character of this worldview and prefer to understand sin and evil in more human or institutional terms, rather than in terms of an evil spiritual personality. In fact, it is possible that James’ central point is retained, even if the apocalyptic background is stripped from the passage. It is possible that the trials arise as an aspect of the church’s location “between the times,” in this period in which the kingdom of God has found entry into the world and is growing in the world but is not yet fully realised in the world. The way of the kingdom is antithetical to the way of the world and results in pressure being brought to bear upon the lives of those who choose this new way. It may be that the tests arise simply as part of the conditions of life, the normal pressures and stresses of existence which challenge the idea of God’s existence or God’s care. The very real afflictions, pressure and suffering experienced by Christians may cause them to despair of God’s goodness or power or both.

James notes that the testing of their faith produces endurance (katergazetai hypomonē). Katergazetai simply means “to produce,” although the erg-root in the verb is related to “work” and so anticipates ergon (“work”) in verse four. The verb is in the present tense, indicating a process or progression culminating in endurance. Hypomonē literally has the sense of “remaining under,” and so bearing up in the midst of difficult or challenging circumstances. It refers not to passive acceptance or resignation in the face of these circumstances, but is an active, strong and positive resistance of them. Hypomonē, therefore, characterises those who hold themselves steady in the midst of pressure. In the early Christian community it was a trait highly valued, for only those who had it would truly endure to the end (cf. Matthew 10:22; 24:13). It is used in the epistles, and especially in the book of Revelation, to encourage the embattled church to stand firm, even to the point of death. It is often paired with faith, the two virtues working together to ensure the believer inherits the eschatological promise (e.g. Hebrews 10:35-36 (cf. 6:12); Revelation 13:10).

James is obviously confident that his listeners’ trials are in fact producing endurance, but is it necessarily so? Assuming the interpretation of the verse given above, this outcome is not fait accompli, but in fact dependent upon the believer’s response to their trials. This helps explain James’ appeal in these verses: it is as they live in accordance with what they know, as they count it all joy in the midst of their trials, that the testing of their faith produces endurance. In verses 2-3, then, James calls on the church to rejoice in the midst of their suffering, knowing that their trials will produce this highly valued virtue. The trial which is intended to destroy their faith will in fact strengthen and confirm it if they will stand fast. Indeed, by standing fast in the midst of the trial, more endurance will develop, and they will grow stronger and have more capacity for steadfastness in future trials.

New Creation – Part 2

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Judah - One week old in a bear hat
Boy and Bear. Judah, one week old and very, very special!

A few weeks ago I celebrated the birth of six cygnets in the pond outside our home in a post called New Creation. The cygnets are doing well; we thought we had lost one in the first couple of days, but discovered it was simply hiding out on mother’s back. Now they are growing quickly, people stop to ooh-and-ahh, and their little necks are beginning to lengthen.

Two weeks ago an even more wondrous birth occurred: that of Judah Alexander, our new – and first – grandson.

In that earlier post I cited from Eugene Peterson’s Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places; let me do so again (pp. 58-59):

God is the Creator and his most encompassing creation is human life, a baby. We, as participants in creation, do it too. When we beget and conceive, give birth to and raise babies, we are in on the heart of creation. Every birth is kerygmatic. There is more gospel in all those “begats” in the genealogical lists of our Scriptures … than we ever dreamed. … Birth, any birth, is our primary access to the creation work of God.

I was a latecomer to this firsthand experience common to most fathers today and common to the human race as a whole. Does anyone ever get used to this? I was captured by the wonder of life, the miracle of life, the mystery of life, the glory of life. … Nowhere I have ever been and nothing I have ever done in God’s creation rivals what I experienced in that birthing room. The setting was austere – antiseptic and functional – but the life, the sheer life, exploding out of the womb that night, transformed it into a place of revelation.

Welcome, Judah Alexander; you are very welcome indeed. May you be blessed of God all your days, and your parents with you.

Scripture on Sunday – James 1:2

Scripture,

Saint_James_the_JustJames 1:2
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy (NRSV)

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials (NASB)

James’ opening salvo is as firm as it is strange. Unlike most New Testament letters which begin with a blessing and/or a prayer, James is straight down to business, exhorting his listeners to consider it “all joy” whenever they face trials of any kind. The focus on joy (chara) builds on the final word of the first verse Greetings (charein, or literally, Rejoice!), and so forms a link between the opening verse and the new section.

Translating Pasan charan hēgēsasthe as “consider it all joy”(NASB) is to be preferred, for “consider it nothing but joy” (NRSV) suggests that the only legitimate emotional response one may experience during testing is joy, whereas people experiencing trial will typically feel a range of responses, and James exhorts them to joy. Of course, to be joyful in the midst of trials, and indeed to consider it a joyful thing to fall into trial, is counter-intuitive. To fall into trial is to experience stress and pressure, if not distress and suffering. James’ intent in this section, then, is not simply to issue a bare exhortation but to also show why and how one can consider such an event as an occasion for joy, indeed, “pure joy” or “all joy.”

The exhortation is addressed to “my brothers and sisters” (adelphoi mou), that is, fellow believers and as such those who are in the family. James is calling for a fundamental and radical shift of attitude. Whereas we typically view trials as a source or occasion of displeasure, anxiety, frustration or even despair, James calls us to view them as an occasion for joy. To consider something is an exercise of mind, will and vision, especially in a circumstance in which trials are anything but joyful. Vlachos (16) notes that the verb (hēgēsasthe) in the New Testament is almost always used in terms of a value judgement. Thus, in spite of their discomfort or distress, the believer is encouraged to view their trials in a new light, and so to respond to them in an unexpected way. Not only are they called to rejoice in the midst of trials, but to see the trial itself as an opportunity for rejoicing.

James calls his audience to adopt this posture whenever they fall into all kinds of trials (hotan peirasmois peripesēte poikilois). The word for trial (peirasmos) can refer, depending on context, either to temptations towards sin which arise from within (cf. v. 14), or to the kinds of afflictions which press upon us from without. Here the second meaning suits the context best, for these are trials that we fall into. McKnight (75-76) argues that James has in mind a very particular context of economic hardship and oppression, and the subsequent temptation faced by his audience to react to this hardship with anger and violence. However the general terms used by James in this text (whenever, any kind (poikilois basically means various)) suggest that he is thinking of trials in general, of trials whenever they come, and of trials in any and all guises. Thus, in all the various kinds of trial and affliction that a person may encounter, James offers this counsel: rejoice! J. B. Phillips’ rendering of this verse captures the sense James intended (478): “When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives, my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders but welcome them as friends!” Just why and how a believer might do this is the theme of verses 3-4.

Review: Matthew Rose, Ethics with Barth

Books, Theology, ,

Matthew Rose, Ethics with Barth: God, Metaphysics and Morals
Barth Studies (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp 226, ISBN 978-1-4094-0623-5

rose_series 2039 cover:metaphysics and morals

The re-evaluation of Karl Barth’s theology which has gathered pace over the last twenty years takes another step forward with this finely written addition to the Barth Studies series. Matthew Rose examines Barth’s ethics from a Roman Catholic perspective and seeks to place the eminent theologian, not only in dialogue with, but in the company of the classical tradition of Western metaphysics and morals (6). More directly,

In contrast to those who see Barth espousing act-deontology, situationalism or intuitionism, I understand him as endorsing a version of the Augustinian and Thomistic view that right living is in accord with created nature. To be good is to live in the truth about ourselves, to live in conformity with God’s intentions for created order. On my reading Barth thus holds God ought to be obeyed not out of mindless obedience but out of regard for our own good and true happiness. God requires no more, no less and no other than for us to fulfil our true being (10; cf. 42-43).

Karl Barth as a natural law ethicist? Not quite. Rose develops his argument in two parts which correspond roughly to an indicative-imperative pattern he sees in Barth’s theology (92). In the first part Rose provides a helpful presentation of Barth’s theological ontology with three chapters discussing the nature of God, creation, and humanity respectively. The God made known in Jesus Christ is that God who from all eternity and to the very depth of his being has turned toward humanity in love, uniting humanity to himself, and who has become humanity’s partisan. The whole of creation is, of course, God’s creation, and Jesus Christ is its secret: its origin and basis, telos and truth. As such, there is an inherent creaturely order that reflects God’s deepest intentions and which provides “the deep structure of the moral life” (59). This order and structure, however, is not given as a universally accessible rationality, and in this, of course, Barth departs from the classical tradition. Human being is christologically determined. Rose notes that Barth distinguishes between “real” humanity and “phenomenal” humanity: our truest and deepest humanity is in Christ, and as such is fundamentally active, relational and open-to-God, this latter not by creational grace or “nature,” but by the divine determination of election. These three chapters offer an account of the true nature of the reality within which humanity has its being, and which is also determinative for its life-act.

Part two is comprised of four chapters in which Rose explores Barth’s doctrine of the divine command (chapters four and five), and particularly, the command of God the creator (chapters six and seven). Rose defines the divine command as “nothing other than the divine nature itself interpreted with reference to human nature” (93; cf. 138, 155). Since the divine being is made known in God’s saving activity, the good is a predicate of revelation. “God’s being is itself imperatival, having the character of law” (95). Again, the divine command does not annihilate human willing but is instructive and illuminating, effecting a radical moral awakening in which the human agent discovers the truth of their own being and understand the command as their highest good. Rather than an occasionalist and particular command for each new moment, it is rather the determination of our entire being and existence to bear the image and likeness of God. In becoming “godlike,” we realise our true humanity.

Barth therefore thinks that what Christians ought to do has already been done. God has not only acted rightly toward us but has acted rightly on our behalf, making the good life something of a fait accompli. … God’s achievement is our incitement. What Barth has in mind when he speaks of obedience is consequently an active alignment of divine and human action … Acting in “correspondence” to God’s command means to be a response or echo to it in the sense of participatory engagement—a “Nachleben” (119-120, original emphasis).

Chapters six and seven supply an overview of Church Dogmatics III/4 with a brief exposition of the main lines of Barth’s discussion of the command of God the creator, with a focus on Rose’s own particular concerns. Rose argues that for Barth, the created order is inherently imperatival. That is, the structures of creaturely and human existence constitute the means by which the command of the Creator reaches us. “There is an internal coincidence between the order of creation and the order of obligation. To become aware of the theological ground of our existence therefore is to become aware of the moral law; knowledge of created order is moral knowledge” (138, original emphasis). Rose approves Barth’s “classic” view of freedom—his organising motif in the ethics of creation—in terms of teleology rather than modern conceptions of unrestrained personal autonomy. The most fundamental freedom is, of course, freedom for God. This fundamental freedom—established and made possible only by redeeming grace—grounds all other freedoms and relationships. Humanity is at its truest and realises its own true being only in this “natural” relation with God, which then issues into a fundamental relationality toward others. These relations, of course, and this freedom, are distorted, threatened, and at times, torn asunder by human sinfulness and evil which arise from the mysterious Nothingness; this is the focus of the final chapter. Rose’s main point is simple: although humanity chooses sin and is thus responsible, yet sin itself, and its ground in Das Nichtige has no ontological foundation: it is alien to human being and thus against nature. “Sin represents our insane, preposterous, bootless attempt to separate ourselves from the source of our life and being and therefore from ourselves” (190).

In a brief but important epilogue Rose considers whether, for Barth, revelation is the sole source of Christian moral reflection, and answers with a decisive No on the grounds that Barth had always acknowledged the particular work and task of philosophy, and that he allows some measure of moral knowledge arising from “truths known and knowable to all human beings” (207).

Rose knows his argument will not convince all readers: “The interpretation may … seem strained. Is not Barth being read against the grain”? (115). Rose is aware he is explicating a “minority report” in Barth (82), and indeed gives evidence of his procedure: “In expounding Barth one is therefore required to put in bolder terms what he often only expresses indirectly and by implication” (106). Nor does he always get the emphasis right (see, for example, his note that Barth’s emphasis on grace “implies a negative judgment on certain forms of autonomous human self-assertion” (150, emphasis added)). Yet he is sensitive to the problem and while keen to present and support his central thesis, acknowledges the very real tensions that remain between Barth and the classical tradition: “If Barth can accompany classical eudaimonism for a stretch of the road, he must part company with it eventually” (129). Why so? The reason lies within Barth’s strictly theological, indeed christological, rendering of God, creation, nature and humanity. Nevertheless, on the basis of these presuppositions, Barth’s ethics are a (distinctively Christian) form of eudaimonism, in which God is the source and measure of human well-being, and his command is “at bottom … an invitation to fulfil the same movement that has set us in motion” (122).

This well-written work which displays an excellent command not only of Barth’s corpus, but also the secondary literature, the historical and philosophical tradition, and contemporary disputes and discussions, deserves and rewards careful reading, even if in the end one cannot agree with all that Rose argues.

(Note: This review originally appeared in Colloquium 45/2 (Nov 2013))

Barth on 19th Century Theology

Theology
Karl Barth had photos of nineteenth century theologians on the wall as he climbed the steps to his study. Apparently he used to ask his students if their photograph would one day join this line of distinguished theologians.

“I would be very pleased if they were (to put it simply) to show a little more love towards those who have gone before us, despite the degree of alienation they feel from them. I made a few remarks to this effect in 1932-33, when I introduced the lectures. I hope that my own approach here will make clear to one and all that the better exegesis and dogmatic theology for which we are striving again today must prove itself by the way in which its advocates acquire not only a sharper but also a more impartial eye for the historical reality of their fellow-theologians of yesterday and the day before. We need openness towards and interest in particular figures with their individual characteristics, an understanding of the circumstances in which they worked, much patience and also much humour in the face of their obvious limitations and weaknesses, a little grace in expressing even the most profound criticism and finally, even in the worst cases, a certain tranquil delight that they were as they were.”

Karl Barth wrote these words (in Protestant Theology in the Nineteenth Century, xii) about his students who, having learned the new theology he taught, were highly critical of what went before. Barth himself was highly critical of most voices of nineteenth century theology, but his criticism was grounded in careful study of their work, deep appreciation for their circumstances and aims, and a conviction that they too were Christians serving Christ, even if, in his estimation, they were also profoundly wrong.