Archive for May, 2012

Hannah Coulter

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012

Why You Should Read Hannah Coulter: Russell Moore

— Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011 —

This week Christian Audio announced that Wendell Berry’s novel Hannah Coulter will be its free download for August. I think that’s a great move, and I’d encourage you to listen or, better yet, to read this book. Those of you who are regulars around these parts know how strongly influenced I am by Mr. Berry. Hannah Coulter, along with Jayber Crow, is among my favorite Berry novels. Here’s why you should read this book.

Some time ago, I critiqued the genre of “Christian romance novels,” and came under a lot of criticism for it (mostly by Christian romance novelists). I was amazed that some of the criticisms attacked me for things that are actually the opposite of what I believe. Some assumed I was saying that fiction was wrong because it’s “not true.” Hardly! I read more fiction than I do non-fiction, if you exempt the Bible from consideration, and I consider it, most often, truer than anything in the world. Some also assumed that I thought one should only write about explicitly Christian themes, and that human love is not worthy of the Christian pen. God forbid.

I think fiction is good, necessary, and God-glorifying. I teach my theology students to read good fiction for the sake of their preaching, if for no other reason. Those without the imagination to read fiction usually lack the imagination to hear the rhythm and contours of Scripture, much less to peer into the mysteries of the human heart. I just think schlocky fiction does just the opposite of all of that. I also think human love is a more than worthy subject of writing, including Christian writing. I just think it should be done with authenticity and honesty, and should look at love, not the hormonal utopia our culture has taught us to long for. I can think of no better contemporary example of doing this well than Hannah Coulter.

This book is a testimony of a woman widowed, twice, once by war. There are several ways the book is counter-cultural in classic Berry style. First of all, the book is indeed a romance, but written from the perspective of a seventy year-old woman. This isn’t the kind of book in which the elderly woman sees her life in the past tense, back there in the romance of youth. No, the novel honors her voice as a real human being, deserving of being heard. She isn’t an “old lady,” but a person whose character deepens as the years go by.

Second, the book roots love in place and community. Again, this is a central emphasis of Berry’s, and it is nowhere clearer than here. So much of our cultural concept of “love” is about the couple alone and their “feelings for one another.” This shows up in the isolated and unhealthy patterns of courtship we see all around us. For Hannah, though, love isn’t simply about her husband and her, and it certainly isn’t about their private emotional world. She reminisces:

“The love he bore to me was his own, but also it was a love that had been borne to him, by people he knew, people I now knew, people he loved. That, I think, is what put tears in his eyes when he looked at me. He must have wondered if I would love those people too. Well, as it turned out, I did. And I would know them as he had never known them, for longer than he knew them. I knew them old, in their final years and days. I know them dead.”

The book also provides beautiful insight into the darker aspects of human existence and, particularly, of what it means to be a man. I find gut-wrenching and convicting Hannah’s comments on her son Caleb who left the farm to pursue a Ph.D. and a career out there in the big world:

“He didn’t love farming enough to be a farmer, much as he loved it, but he loved it too much to be entirely happy doing anything else. He is disappointed in himself. He is regretful in some dark passage of his mind that he thinks only he knows about, but he can’t hide it from his mother. I can see it in his face as plain as writing. There is the same kind of apology in him that you see in some of the sweeter drunks. He is trying to make up the difference between the life he has and the life he imagines he might have had.”

That’s some insight into the human psyche, and it’s written with a biblical sense of poignant longing. It reaches something we often know, but just can’t describe or name. As Hannah puts it, “People know more about each other than what they tell each other.”

True. Read (or listen to) Hannah Coulter. You’ll find yourself in a far distant land, and you’ll long for the distance to close.

I took Russell Moore’s advice and read Hannah Coulter. It was one of the most satisfying novels I have read – a masterpiece! If you haven’t read it then go out and get a copy or download it. You will not be sorry.

Michael Horton on Same-Sex Marriage

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012

Michael Horton in The White Horse Inn Blog (May 11.2012) posted this brilliant piece on the world-view behind the right of same-sex couples to marry.

The media is still buzzing with President Obama’s recent announcement that he personally favors same-sex marriage. In 1996, he favored it. In 2004, though, he rejected it (affirming civil unions) on grounds of his Christian convictions that marriage is a “sanctified” union of a man and woman. Now he has reversed that position, again offering his Christian convictions (loving neighbors and being in a church community that accepts same-sex couples) as a rationale.

Speculations about political motivations aside, the President is hardly alone in his waffling over this controversial issue of significance for American society. Nor is he alone among those who say that they affirm same-sex marriage—or their own homosexual lifestyle—as something that is affirmed by God and their Christian commitment.

Makes a Lot of Sense?

Both sides trade Bible verses, while often sharing an unbiblical—secularized—theological framework at a deeper level. If God exists for our happiness and self-fulfillment, validating our sovereign right to choose our identity, then opposition to same-sex marriage (or abortion) is just irrational prejudice.

Given the broader worldview that many Americans (including Christians) embrace—or at least assume, same-sex marriage is a right to which anyone is legally entitled. After all, traditional marriages in our society are largely treated as contractual rather than covenantal, means of mutual self-fulfillment more than serving a larger purpose ordained by God. The state of the traditional family is so precarious that one wonders how same-sex marriage can appreciably deprave it.

Same-sex marriage makes sense if you assume that the individual is the center of the universe, that God—if he exists—is there to make us happy, and that our choices are not grounded in a nature created by God but in arbitrary self-construction. To the extent that this sort of “moralistic-therapeutic-deism” prevails in our churches, can we expect the world to think any differently? If we treat God as a product we sell to consumers for their self-improvement programs and make personal choice the trigger of salvation itself, then it may come as a big surprise (even contradiction) to the world when we tell them that truth (the way things are) trumps feelings and personal choice (what we want to make things to be).

Plausibility Structures

The secularist mantra, “You can’t legislate morality,” is a shibboleth. Defenders of same-sex marriage moralize as much as anyone. They appeal to dogmas like freedom of choice, individualism, love, respect, acceptance (not, tolerance, mind you, but acceptance), and excoriate religiously traditional opponents as hypocritical in failing to follow the loving example of Jesus. The agenda is plainly as ethical as any other. Whatever is decided at state and federal levels, a certain version of morality will most certainly be legislated.

What this civic debate—like others, such as abortion and end-of-life ethics—reveals is the significance of worldviews. Shaped within particular communities, our worldviews constitute what Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann coined as “plausibility structures.” Some things make sense, and others don’t, because of the tradition that has shaped us. We don’t just have a belief here and a belief there; our convictions are part of a web. Furthermore, many of these beliefs are assumptions that we haven’t tested, in part because we’re not even focally aware that we have them. We use them every day, though, and in spite of some inconsistencies they all hold together pretty firmly—unless a crisis (intellectual, moral, experiential) makes us lose confidence in the whole web.

Every worldview arises from a narrative—a story about who we are, how we got here, the meaning of history and our own lives, expectations for the future. From this narrative arise certain convictions (doctrines and ethical beliefs) that make that story significant for us. No longer merely assenting to external facts, we begin to indwell that story; it becomes ours as we respond to it and then live out its implications.

I’ve argued that in Christianity this can be described familiar terms of the drama, doctrine, doxology, and discipleship. But you see it in every worldview. Take Friedrich Nietzsche, for example. The late 19th-century philosopher believed that we came from nowhere meaningful and are going nowhere meaningful, but in the middle of it all we can create meaning for ourselves. Freed from an external creator, law-giver, redeemer, and consummator, we are finally on our own. The parents are on holiday (if there is a parent), and it’s party-time. In Romans, Paul identifies our fallen condition as a pathological inability to be thankful. After all, if reality is an accidental given of a random and impersonal universe rather than a gift of a purposeful God, then the only meaning we have is that which we design and execute for ourselves.

It’s something like Nietzsche’s narrative—the “Nowhere Man” poised to make something of his own individualism and will to power—that creates the plausibility structure of contemporary living in the West. Its central dogma is the will to power and its doxology is actually self-congratulatory, like Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.” It yields masters and consumers rather than pilgrims and disciples.

The fact that “moralistic-therapeutic-deism” is the working theology of Americans—whether evangelicals, Catholics, mainline Protestants, or agnostics—demonstrates the pervasiveness of secularization even in our churches. The old actors may still be invoked: God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. Bits of the old narrative may still be mentioned: creation, providence, redemption, salvation, heaven. However, the shift is evident enough. These old words are mapped onto an essentially human-centered rather than God-centered map. The map is the autonomous self’s striving to create a sense of meaning, purpose, and significance. Each individual writes his or her own script or life movie. “God” may still have a meaningful role as a supporting actor in our self-realization and peace of mind, but we’re the playwright, director, and star.

So when we come to debates about same-sex marriage in civic debates, even professions of deeply held Christian commitments can be invoked without the biblical narrative, doctrines and commands, doxology, and discipleship actually providing the authoritative source and structural integrity to our arguments.

Conservatives often appeal to self-fulfillment: gays are unhappy. They don’t realize their own potential to mate with the right gender and produce pleasant families like the rest of us. To be sure, there are other arguments, like referring to the decline of civilizations that accommodated homosexuality. However, this is just to extend the pragmatic-and-therapeutic-usefulness presupposition of individual autonomy to a social scale.

On this common ground, same-sex marriage is a no-brainer. Some people are happier and more fulfilled in committed same-sex relationships. There’s no use trying to refute other people’s emotional expressions of their own subjective states of consciousness. Do same-sex couples wrestle with tension, anxiety over a partner losing interest and being attracted to someone else, infidelity, and so forth? Looking at the state of traditional marriage, how exactly are these couples uniquely dysfunctional? A 2006 Amicus Brief presented to the California Supreme Court by the nation’s leading psychological and psychiatric bodies argued, “Gay men and lesbians form stable, committed relationships that are equivalent to heterosexual relationships in essential respects. The institution of marriage offers social, psychological, and health benefits that are denied to same-sex couples…There is no scientific basis for distinguishing between same-sex couples and heterosexual couples with respect to the legal rights, obligations, benefits, and burdens conferred by civil marriage.” Well, there you have it. The new high priests of the national soul have spoken.

How would someone who believes that sin is unhappiness and salvation is having “your best life now” make a good argument against same-sex marriage? There is simply no way of defending traditional marriage within the narrative logic that apparently most Christians—much less non-Christians—presuppose regardless of their position on this issue.

Taxes and De Tocqueville

Thursday, May 10th, 2012

In the light of recent elections in France and Greece, and the problems presented by having to borrow enormous amounts of money to finance national budgets, the words of Alexis De Tocqueville in his famous book, Democracy in America, published in 1834, need to be heeded.

He comments on the tendency of expenditure to increase, not to diminish. “As the great majority of those who create the laws are possessed of no property upon which taxes can be imposed, all the money which is spent for the community appears to be spent for their advantage, at no cost of their own; and those who are possessed of some little property readily find means of regulating the taxes so that they are burdensome to the wealthy and profitable to the poor, although the rich are unable to take the same advantage when they are in possession of the government.

In countries in which the poor should be exclusively invested with the power of making the laws no great economy of public expenditure ought to be expected: that the expenditure will always be considerable; either because the taxes do not weigh upon those who levy them, or because they are levied in such a manner as not to weigh upon those classes. In other words, the government of the democracy is the only one under which the power which lays on taxes escapes the payment of them.

The disastrous influence which popular authority may sometimes exercise upon the finances of a State was very clearly seen in some of the democratic republics of antiquity, in which the public treasure was exhausted in order to relieve indigent citizens, or to supply the games and theatrical amusements of the populace.

When the people is invested with the supreme authority, the perpetual sense of their own miseries impels the rulers of society to seek for perpetual ameliorations. A thousand different objects are subjected to improvement; the most trivial details are sought out as susceptible of amendment; and those changes which are accompanied with considerable expense are more especially advocated, since the object is to render the condition of the poor more tolerable, who can not pay for themselves.

Moreover, all democratic communities are agitated by an ill-defined excitement and by a kind of feverish impatience, that engender a multitude of innovations, almost all of which are attended with expense. When a people begins to reflect upon its situation, it discovers a multitude of wants to which it had not before been subject, and to satisfy these exigencies recourse must be had to the coffers of the State. Hence it arises that the public charges increase in proportion as civilization spreads.

The last cause which frequently renders a democratic government dearer than any other is, that a democracy does not always succeed in moderating its expenditure, because it does not understand the art of being economical. The state spends sums out of all proportion to the end which it proposes to accomplish.”

What would he say if he studied the finances of his native France, or Greece, or the United States, today? “I told you so!!!”

Talking with Mormons

Saturday, May 5th, 2012

In his new book Talking with Mormons: An Invitation to Evangelicals, Richard J. Mouw — president of Fuller Seminary and a pioneering voice in Mormon-evangelical dialogue — shares his insights on whether (and how, and to what extent) evangelicals and Mormons can transcend doctrinal differences to discover common ground.

In the following post, Mouw explains why he wrote the book — and why he intends to keep on engaging in friendly conversation with Mormon theologians.

* * *

Whenever there is any published reference to something that I have said about Mormonism, I get quite a bit of email — most of it containing expressions of disagreement with my views. This happened again a while ago, when I wrote an op-ed piece in the Los Angeles Times dissenting from the views of some evangelical leaders who insisted that a vote for Mitt Romney is a vote for a member of a “cult.” I wasn’t intending to defend Mormonism as yet another version of orthodox Christianity. But I was meaning to encourage folks not simply to write off Mormonism as a deceptive and sinister religious movement.

I received many emails in response to that published piece. Mostly these came from angry evangelicals, but a few expressed agreement with my views. Two emails in particular stand out, especially since they both arrived in my inbox at about the same time.

The first was straightforwardly hostile. The writer could not fathom why I would say anything good about Mormonism. Don’t you know that they worship many gods? he asked. And even worse, he said, they think they themselves are on their way to becoming gods. There is nothing about true salvation in their religion. If they mention Christ at all it is a false Christ!

The other was from a Mormon. He thanked me for my article and said that he knew I would be taking a lot of flak from people who despise Mormonism. Then he touched upon some of the same points made in the other email. Your critics will say, he affirmed, that Mormons think that they can become gods, and that the atoning work of Christ has no real role in Mormon teachings.

He then offered his candid appraisal of those criticisms. Actually, he said, some of what they say is the kind of things he himself was raised on as a Mormon. “We did hear a lot about becoming gods and that sort of teaching,” he recalled.

But, he also testified, things are changing. Mormons like him are hearing much more about being sinners who need salvation by God’s grace. More importantly, he said, in many Mormon cirlces these days there is a much more Christ-centered emphasis. “We hear messages about being sinners and about the importance of the Cross — and about the need to become more Christ-like in our lives.” He encouraged me to hang in there and continue in dialogue with LDS leaders.

I wrote my book, Talking with Mormons, precisely because of people like him. Do I think he represents a form of orthodox Christianity? Probably not. If I were to push him more on the details of his overall theology, I know there is much that I would find disturbing. But I do take encouragement in his kind of testimony. And it does inspire me to keep the conversation with Mormons going. At the very least, it strikes me as important to listen carefully to what Mormons are actually saying these days about what they believe.