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Showing posts with label Emergent Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emergent Church. Show all posts

Friday, September 24, 2010

Book Review: Brian McLaren's Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope


This is the third of three old reviews of some of Brian McLaren's books that I did some time back. It is also the last, so you needn't worry about that.

I have several more old posts--some more book reviews and so forth--that I will be trying to republish soon. Mostly, I just have to go over them and make sure that I haven't inadvertently left my real name in any of the text.

You may be saying to yourself, "But, MOTW, surely republishing these old things is a dead giveaway as to who you are, at least to some people?" It is, I suppose, but I doubt that it will cause problems. My only purpose in having an incognito is to avoid having a casual google search of my real name come up with material that might make some companies hesitant to hire me, and that seems to have been achieved well enough with the steps I've taken. Anyone who sees these old posts and makes the connection to my real name will have to go to the trouble of writing and posting something about it, something I think extremely unlikely.


With this review, I will have read and reviewed three of Brian D. McLaren's books. I think I can say with some confidence that one problem has been common to reviewing all of them: each volume has presented such an enormous volume of "What the ????(?)" moments that indulging the extreme temptation to explore each of them would result in a review very nearly book-length in itself.

There are elegant and eloquent non-sequiturs; casual redefinitions of established terms; shockingly unbelievable oversimplifications; jaw-dropping mischaracterizations; one-sided presentations; stunning misapprehensions; and there is extraordinarily subjective exegesis--or, perhaps, blatant eisegesis. I tried, briefly, to note the more egregious "What the ????(?)" moments as I read, so that I could explore them all in detail later, but I gave up within a few pages. It is impossible to respond to it all. I will confine myself to presenting a few examples, mostly in a separate section at the tail end of the review, and mostly drawn from the notes I took early on in the book. There are many, many others that could have been presented.


Considering the strength of some of the statements in this review, I ought to make it clear that I have nothing against Mr. McLaren personally. I have never met the man. I have never communicated with him, and it most likely the case that he is completely unaware of my existence. He has never harmed nor attacked me personally and I bear him no ill will.

You should also know that although I will leave no doubt that I find much of Mr. McLaren's thinking less than stellar and many of his conclusions erroneous, I by no means think of him as a moron, nor do I disagree with every word he writes.

Lastly, I would also recommend the reader peruse Tim Challies' review of this book. Also, some might find Chris Rosebrough's review interesting.

And with those disclaimers in mind, let us proceed....
Readers of Mr. McLaren's last book, The Secret Message of Jesus, will no doubt remember that despite the book's title, Mr. McLaren said he did not actually know what the secret message was. I noted at the time that writing a whole book about a message you didn't purport to know seemed a spectacularly brassy move, requiring nerves of steel, and I was looking forward to an announcement of some kind in this book as to the status of the investigation. While there is no direct "eureka" statement as to its discoverance in this book, Mr. McLaren makes enough references to "the message of Jesus" that combined with his statement that this book is a continuation of The Secret Message of Jesus and that the two books may be taken as something of a unit, we are fairly justified, I think, in concluding that the message isn't secret anymore. Summarizing as best I can, the secret message appears to be that if we disbelieve the dominant framing story of our suicide machine and believe instead Jesus' new framing story of a new kingdom of love centered in the heart of God, we can participate with God by living
...a life dedicated to replacing the suicide machine with a sacred ecosystem, a beautiful community, an insurgency of healing and peace, a creative global family, an unterror movement of faith, hope, and love
in order to save the planet and all its creatures to become the planet and system God dreams of.

You can be forgiven for thinking that that is so much impenetrable obfuscation. One of the aggravating things about Mr. McLaren's work is that by the time he has finished introducing inadequately explored new terms and casually redefining old ones, it all begins to take on the appearance of a foray into a solipsist worldview pervaded and enabled by a consistent use of jargon. Despite the jargon, though, it is not impossible to understand what Mr. McLaren means. It can be understood by anyone willing to give the matter a little thought. My chief concern is that too many people will not give this work serious thought, and that Mr. McLaren's ideas, like brightly-colored, chocolate-covered candies, will slide down their throats and into their thinking, and thence right into their teaching, without ever having been thoroughly checked for their
actual content.

It's not, in my opinion, possible to understand what Mr. McLaren is saying Jesus' message is until you understand something of how Mr. McLaren sees the world and the mess that it's in.

As best I can summarize, Mr. McLaren sees the world's biggest problems as arising from a currently disfunctional overall system for which he uses the term "suicide machine," borrowed from Dr. Leonard Sweet. This overall system may be subdivided into three subsystems, the prosperity system, the security system, and the equity system, each of which is likewise currently disfunctional. The disfunctions are caused by excessive confidence (and for those wondering how Mr. McLaren's bete noire, modernism, figures into this whole thing, it appears that the ability to be excessively confident, in turn, arises from the birth of foundationalism and Modernism in Rene Descartes' A Discourse on Method) in the wrong framing story. A framing story is
...a story that gives people direction, values, vision, and inspiration by providing a framework for their lives. It tells them who they are, where they come from, where they are, what's going on, where things are going, and what they should do.
And the only remedy to the whole situation is to believe in the new framing story brought by Jesus. That framing story is the same as His secret message, cited above as
...if we disbelieve the dominant framing story of our suicide machine and believe instead Jesus' new framing story of a new kingdom of love centered in the heart of God, we can participate with God by living
...a life dedicated to replacing the suicide machine with a sacred ecosystem, a beautiful community, an insurgency of healing and peace, a creative global family, an unterror movement of faith, hope, and love
in order to save the planet and all its creatures to become the planet and system God dreams of.
I've tried to be as accurate as I can in a short space and I hope I haven't misrepresented the thrust of the book. You can compare my summary to a summary given by Mr. McLaren near the end of the book:
So far in these pages, I have asked you to disbelieve a number of things: That our current societal machinery is working fine. That we can seek prosperity without regard to ecological limits. That we can achieve true security through military dominance, and peace through violence. That we have already achieved equity, or that equity is an unachievable pipe-dream. That our religious systems are standing up to the societal machine and providing it with a transforming framing story. That our current understandings of Jesus are sufficient and accurate:

And I have asked you instead to believe a number of other things:
1. We live in a societal system or machine. It consists of three subsystems (prosperity, security, and equity), situated in a finite
environment, guided by a framing story.
2. The system goes suicidal when driven by a destructive framing story. Destructive framing stories employ narratives of domination, revolution, and withdrawal, all of which are ultimately self-destructive.
3. Jesus saw these dynamics at work in his day and proposed in word and deed a new alternative--neither conforming to the suicidal framing story, nor reacting in a violent counternarrative or defeatest
withdrawal narrative.
4. Jesus' creative and transforming framing story invited people to change the world by disbelieving old framing stories and believing a new one: a story about a loving God who, like a benevolent king, calls all
people to live life in a new way, the way of love.
Our great choice is whether or not we will dare to believe against the suicide machine, and believe Jesus, toward a different world. Believing is the most radical thing we can do. No wonder Jesus, when performing his healings and exorcisms, would often say, "Your faith has saved you."
Now, if you translate back into English from Mr. McLaren's Jargon-ese, there are elements of this where I actually kind of agree. I, too, think there is a disfunctional social system that results in much human degradation, depravity, suffering, and injustice. The Bible--most especially in the books authored by John--calls it "the world." And I would agree that the remedy is to be found in believing Jesus.

I cannot agree, on the other hand, that a bad "framing story" drives this disfunctional social system--I say it is driven by a fallen and totally depraved human nature and a very real Devil--and I would also insist that a person cannot understand Jesus' message apart from regeneration, the new birth, which immediately and necessarily manifests in faith which justifies and produces good works and also in subsequent progressive sanctification and an overall lifestyle of increasingly faithful obedience to Jesus' commands. Put another way, I think it is rubbish for anyone to talk of believing Jesus' message, or "framing story," if you want to put it that way, without being a Christian--or a follower of "the Way," which, as Mr. McLaren reminds us, is how the early Church put it. This is important, for over the course of the three books I've read, this one included, Mr. McLaren repeatedly drops hints that he thinks it is entirely possible for non-Christians to embrace the way of Jesus.

It probably goes without saying that I disagree at several points with Mr. McLaren as to what Jesus' message is. These differences, it seems to me, arise largely from differing views as to how to interpret the Biblical text. Mr. McLaren seems very willing to indulge highly speculative interpretations , frequently assuming the presence of symbolism or allegory where, in my opinion, there is no warrant in the text for such assumptions. He interprets Genesis and creation this way, and continues that method all the way through to the end, concluding that Biblical passages like (emphasis mine)
2Pe 3:10 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. 2Pe 3:11 Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, 2Pe 3:12 waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the heavenly bodies will melt as they burn! 2Pe 3:13 But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.
which prophecy the eventual replacement of this present globe are not to be taken at face value.

It seems impossible to separate Mr. McLaren's eschatology from his understanding of salvation, which he apparently sees more as corporate--that is, for humanity as a whole--than individual, and also involving the planet itself, together with its fauna and flora. Perhaps this passage sums up his understanding of the Gospel as well as any:
Jesus came to become the Savior of the world, meaning he came to save the earth and all it contains from its ongoing destruction because of human evil. Through his life and teaching, through his suffering, death, and resurrection, he inserted into human history a seed of grace, truth, and hope that can never be defeated. This seed will, against all opposition and odds, prevail over the evil and injustice of humanity and lead to the world's ongoing transformation into the world God dreams of. All who find in Jesus God's hope and truth discover the privilege of participating in his ongoing work of personal and global transformation and liberation from evil and injustice. As part of his transforming community, they experience liberation from the fear of death and condemnation. This is not something they earn or achieve, but rather a free gift they recieve as an expression of God's grace and love.
If one sees salvation as necessarily involving the planet and all that it contains, then it inevitably follows that any prophecy involving the destruction of this world must be symbolic, or at least conditional. And in pursuing a such a view of salvation, it also seems inevitable that one must at least downplay, if not outright deride, the idea of individuals being saved from a very real eternity of damnation in Hell. And also, in pursuing such a view of salvation, it seems inevitable that one would treat poor stewardship of the earth as necessarily threatening nothing less than the loss of salvation--the sort of corporate salvation Mr. McLaren envisions, anyway.

This book continues to pursue the idea that excessive confidence, or the idea that you can really know anything, produces much suffering and is to be avoided. In one chapter, Mr. McLaren ultimately ascribes the horrors of World War II to excessive confidence.
In the aftermath of World War II, many European intellectuals (eventually joind by Americans and many others) were forced to ask this question: how could this have happened? This referred to two world wars, and especially to the Holocaust. After 1945, intellectuals around the world begain asking how Germany in particular--the epicenter of the Enlightenment with its rationality and its scientific mind-set--could sink into the barbarism of Nazism and all it entailed. They were simultaneously assessing even greater atrocities in the former Soviet Union under Stalin (1922-1953).

...these European intellectuals instead identified a disease shared by the Christian religion and European civilization at large: they diagnosed the sickness that had befallen Western civilization in general and "Christian" Germany in particular to be excessive confidence.

In other words, just as cancer is an excessive growth of cells--both cells and growth normally being good things--the intellectuals realized that Nazism was an excessive growth of confidence--confidence in their national ethos, in their rational and interpretive powers, in their scientific prowess, and so on. When this confidence grew out of proportion, it became malignant...

...what was the source of this cancer of excessive confidence? The answer came in two parts.

First, many thinkers traced excessive confidence back to an intellectual methodology designed by Rene Descartes, explained in his great work A Discourse on Method. Descartes' method, known to us today as foundationalism, sought to establish universally accessible first principles--incapable of being doubted or debated because of their pristine and universal logical clarity. Building on that foundation using reason alone (with no appeal to religion), practitioners of foundationalism erected an intellectual framework that promised absolute, objective, universally accessible certainty from the ground up. That kind of certainty produced amazing positive results, but as critics of foundationalism began to realize in the 1950s, '60s, and '70s, it also produced a dangerous, malignant confidence that is willing to exploit or even kill millions of people--not to mention nonhuman living things--to achieve its ends.

Second, certain philosophers surmised that this intellectual method of foundationalism alone wasn't the only source of modern Western overconfidence. They began to speak of metanarratives--framing stories that weave together memories of grievances that need to be avenged, stories of dangers that need to be avoided, or stories of superiority that explain why one group should be advantaged to dominate over others.

Driven by these fearful, vengeful, or dominating framing stories, and bolstered by a feeling of bottom-up, invulnerable certainty, nations or civilizations could easily become vicious, genocidal, and perhaps even suicidal--capable of bringing down the whole planet.

...Thinking along these lines, I became convinced that, yes, many of our world's worst atrocities were indeed the result of overconfidence. And yes, overconfidence was indeed resourced by foundationalism. And yes, deeper still, destructive framing stories fueled the hatred and fear and greed that perpetuated so much human suffering--whether in Africa, Latin America, or my own nation.
The whole chapter runs along these lines. I looked carefully, and while it is true that at one point in the quoted material Mr. McLaren gives examples of the things that the Nazis had overconfidence in, it nevertheless seems clear that he sees the overconfidence itself as the ultimate cause of World War II and its attendant atrocities.

This fascinates me. One of the most consistent features of Emergent Church thinking--and of Mr. McLaren's writing--is this ascription of all sorts of evil to overconfidence, to arrogance, to thinking that you can know anything with certainty. In this case, I can't help but wonder if there is anything that Mr. McLaren might think it impossible to be overconfident of. Can one be overconfident of the goodness of God? Of His mercy? Of His power? If not, how does one draw a distinction between those things wherein one cannot be overconfident and those things wherein one can? As far as I can tell, Mr. McLaren never grapples with this sort of thing.

All I see--all I ever see in Emergent writing, really--is a double standard: those things that Emergents believe, they have a proper confidence in; those things which they don't believe, others have overconfidence in. What is the difference between proper confidence and overconfidence? As far as I can tell throughout the writing of Mr. McLaren and other Emergents, it all depends on whose ox is gored.

I also couldn't help but wonder how Mr. McLaren explains atrocities that occurred before Descartes. No doubt he would blame them in part on destructive framing stories, but one wonders how much power they could possibly have without the power of foundationalist thinking. If the atrocities prior to foundationalist thinking were just as bad, then it must be the case that foundationalist thinking and overconfidence don't have quite the effect that Mr. McLaren thinks they do.

Personally, I think that a fallen, totally depraved human nature and a very real Devil account quite nicely for people--in World War II and at other times--putting their faith in the wrong things and committing atrocities.

But maybe that's just me.

I said at the outset that there were things in the book with which I did not disagree. In addition to agreeing that there is a disfunctional global social system, I found that I had profound agreement with a part of the book wherein Mr. McLaren deals with the nature of materialism, and at least partial agreement with his notation that that materialism has adverse effects on the way our economy works. He writes:
Ironically, a materialistic culture doesn't suffer from an overemphasis on material things, but rather on a strange process of their disappearance. For the man who owns twenty Rolls-Royces, it's not simply the cars, the physical objects themselves, that he gets pleasure from, but the number of cars. For the anxious middle-class fellow living next to the infamous Joneses, it's not that he gets pleasure from his green, weed-free lawn; it's that his lawn is as good as his neighbors', or maybe even better than theirs. For the teenager who downloads a song every day on the Internet, it's not the song itself that counts--he hardly has time to listen to the songs, much less enjoy them; it's that he's keeping up with the latest, so he can have 'bragging rights" to his friends when the subject of music comes up. The middle-aged woman who spends a
fortune on cosmetics seldom appreciates the quality of the products themselves; for the most part, she isn't after good skin-care anway. She's after youth, beauty, fashion. The CEO making a six- or seven-figure salary can't enjoy his current salary or his huge investment portfolio: he's too busy working to double his salary and triple his investment portfolio. It's not about enjoyment for him; it's about growth.

Growth is an abstraction. And this is the irony of the prosperity system in the suicide machine. It is, in a sense, utterly Platonic. The material thing doesn't count in itself: what counts is the abstraction, the immaterial idea behind it--numbers, status, coolness, youth, beauty, fashion, growth. The things themselves--cars, cosmetics, companies, songs--are just means to the end, which is an abstraction that is by
nature unattainable. After all, when have you reached the end of growth, or youth, or fashion, or status, or power?
I have often had thoughts along these lines. For people whose trust is in material things--or really, anything but God--nothing is ever really enough, and even the most glittery objects soon fade, and the most exciting experiences pall. Nothing ever really satisfies, and soon one doesn't even really see what he has anymore. He just walks on by it without enjoying it, the same way most of us hardly ever even notice the artwork that adorns our walls after a while. But if your trust is in God and your fulfillment is in Him, it seems to me that not only will you have a heightened appreciation for your "stuff," you will find that you not only can get by with less "stuff," you will actually find yourself jettisoning things, or never picking up things, that will only clutter up your life and make you eventually regret your actions.

Years ago, without quite realizing just how big the impact of what I was saying would have on him, I said something that--as far as I can tell--has had lasting consequences on my oldest son. He had some money to spend--from a birthday or something--and I had taken him to Toys-R-Us. We looked at a lot of things, and eventually he picked up one item--I can't even remember what it was--and asked, "Is it okay if I get this?" I told him that he could buy anything he wanted, but whatever it was, I wanted it to be something that he would use and enjoy for a long time, and not something that he would play with for three days and then get bored with and forget about, and regret spending his money on.

Ever since--and that has been over a decade, I'm sure--he's been very cautious about spending his money so as to accomplish something worthwhile, or to at least achieve some lasting pleasure or goal, instead of just satisfying momentary whims. He hardly ever buys anything. He's been working for more several years, and for a young man with a part-time job, he makes pretty good money and has very few expenses. But what does he have to "show for it?" In material terms, he's got a used car, a motorcycle, an I-pod, a cell phone, and a digital camera, a fair amount of books, and a laptop computer--and he uses every darn one of them. Everything else has gone into saving or college or giving.

And, on a purely personal level, I have often noted that if I were to suddenly somehow earn, inherit, or win a million bucks, I would hardly know what to do with it all. The rock-bottom truth is that I would almost certainly be "done" after making some house and car repairs and buying a handful of informational material, and it would be an open question as to what to do with the rest of it. There's certainly no point in going out and filling the house with trinkets that I don't have time to use.

And, to speak to Mr. McLaren's point in this section, I have to acknowledge that what seems to be our culture's consistent habit of buying in an attempt to satisfy needs and desires that really can't be satisfied by material goods--needs and desires like beauty, security, status--often drives a perfectly legitimate capitalist system into a state of misapplied overdrive. I don't think there is anything wrong with capitalism, per se, but with trying to satisfy, with material goods, needs and desires that can only be satisfied by God.

Capitalism. That brings up something else. One of the most maddening aspects of Mr. McLaren's writing is his persistent habit of writing as though authoritative, or at least knowledgeable, about subjects that he seems to grasp only in the most hack-handed manner. I am not trying to be mean in writing this; those words were what came to my mind as I sought to briefly describe the feeling imparted when he discusses, say, capitalism.

Capitalism. It comes up not infrequently throughout the book, and seldom in a positive light. This annoyed me, as a strong concern for the "poor" (in quotes because I suspect that Mr. McLaren and I might have definitions of poor and poverty that are less than closely related) is woven throughout the book's contents, and the bald fact of the matter is that the only economic "system" (in quotes because capitalism is not so much a system as it is simply what happens when people have liberty and property rights)--the only one!--that has historically proven able to create wealth enough to lift masses of people out of poverty is capitalism. One would think a person concerned with the poor would have greater respect for and interest in what has been, so far, the only remedy employable on a large scale.

Nowhere was my annoyance more pronounced than in reading this passage:
My friend Rene Padilla offers an interesting analysis of the two systems from a Latin American perspective. Communism, he says, specialized in distribution but failed at production. As a result, it ended up doing a great job of distributing poverty evenly. Capitalism, he says, was excellent at production but weak at distribution. As a result, it ended up rewarding the wealthy with obscene amounts of wealth while the poor suffered on in horrible degradation and indignity. Latin America is still waiting for a viable alternative; as is the whole planet.

The twenty-first century began in the aftermath of the defeat of Marxism. The story of the coming century will likely be the story of whether a sustainable form of capitalism can be saved from theocapitalism, or whether unrestrained theocapitalism will result in such gross inequity between rich and poor that violence and counter-violence will being civilization to a standstill, or perhaps worse.

Marxist revolutionaries have tended to see the oppressed poor as morally good and the rich as morally unsalvageable. Where their revolutions put the proletariat into power, the revolutionaries generally prove themselves as corruptible as the elites they replaced.

Theocapitalists have done the opposite: they have tended to see the rich as morally good and the poor as morally culpable for their own poverty; the hard work and cleverness of the former have made them rich, and the laziness, irresponsibility, and looseness of the latter have made them poor.
I was astonished at this point, for if part of Mr. McLaren's purpose is not to invalidate this supposed viewpoint of supposed "theocapitalists," I am much mistaken--and yet, it seemed to me that a quote from one of the poverty relief workers he lauds earlier in the book supports it! It is as though Mr. McLaren has forgotten his friend saying (emphasis mine)
...you know what would really help? They could teach them job skills, even just the necessity of getting up and showing up somewhere in the morning, of keeping your word, of working hard, of being honest. Then they could work through their denominations and other networks to start businesses so the people could get jobs. These are the kinds of things pastors could do.
Not that improving personal behavior is all that there is to avoiding poverty and doing well with capitalism--far from it. But it's not like this subject has not been addressed--astonishingly, by a Latin American economist who put his work to the test in Latin America, where his ideas succeeded well enough that the Communist Sendero Luminoso faded out of existence partly due to sheer lack of interest. Hernando de Soto's book--The Mystery of Capital: Why Capitalism Triumphs in the West and Fails Everywhere Else directly and brilliantly addresses some of the issues Mr. McLaren raises. It was very popular and widely read when it came out, and in my estimation, it is one of the most important treatises on capitalism written in the last hundred years. I can find no indication that Mr. McLaren has even heard of it, let alone read it, and the skewed view of capitalism vis-a-vis poverty that results is, as I said, annoying.

I would also say that Mr. McLaren's understanding of how foreign aid works is a little skewed. He seems very willing to accept figures and methods that to me, seem highly questionable. For example, he writes:
Then I read that according to the United Nations, $80 billion could provide all the poor people in the world with clean water, basic health care, basic education, and basic nutrition.
I couldn't help but wonder why on earth he would accept numbers from the United Nations, which in aggregate is little more than a group of third-world dictators and thugs organized for the purpose of propping themselves up, demonizing Israel, and financing the whole arrangement by the siphoning off of wealth from the West, as authoritative. Didn't he learn anything from the oil-for-food scandal?

The $80 billion figure seems questionable, too--so questionable that I had to wonder about his judgment in accepting it. How much do we spend, in this country alone, on providing clean water, basic health care, basic education, and basic nutrition, every year? What do you think? More than 80 billion? Why, then, would anyone accept the idea that this sum could actually accomplish providing those things worldwide? I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. McLaren had ever explored the negative effects that bad charity can have--explored them, at least, enough to have a thorough appreciation of why so much governmental giving has had only the effect of worsening and exacerbating poverty instead of alleviating it. His friend Claude makes at least oblique reference to this when Mr. McLaren quotes him as saying, emphasis mine:
When I got older, I realized that my entire life had been lived against the backdrop of genocide and violence, poverty and corruption. Over a million people died in my country in a series of genocides starting in 1959, and nearly a million in Rwanda, and in spite of huge amounts of foreign aid, our people remain poor, and many of them, hungry. This is the experience we have all shared.
(Those interested in this subject will find Marvin Olasky's The Tragedy of American Compassion worthwhile reading.)

Not infrequently, I had occasion to wonder about the way Mr. McLaren approached a given passage of scripture. For example, when speaking of part of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, Mr. McLaren says
In light of Hebrew grammatical construction, it is highly possible that when Jesus says...
The rest of the sentence is not important, at least not right now. What one cannot fail to note, of course, is that Mr. McLaren, not finding what he would like to see in the Greek in which the Sermon on the Mount was written, feels free to speculate on what Jesus might have said in Hebrew. To my mind, that is just a little too close to making it up as you go.

Another astonishing passage is this, where Mr. McLaren is discussing Jesus' encounter with Zaccheus:
Jesus...pronounces that this man has received salvation (from, we could say, greed, from a dark outlook, from the hell of being under God's condemnation, from self-centeredness, from spiritual bankruptcy, and from a loss of identity as a Jew through participation in the empire of Rome rather than the kingdom of God). Jesus then explains that his very purpose in coming is to save people in exactly this way.
Now, it goes without saying that all of the things that Mr. McLaren suggests Zaccheus is being saved from are bad and worth being saved from. But here is the actual text from Luke as it is rendered in the ESV:
And Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost."
The ensuing material does not, apparently, concern Zaccheus. Rather, Jesus told the ensuing
parable specifically to disabuse people of the notion that the Kingdom was about to appear:
As they heard these things, he proceeded to tell a parable, because he was near to Jerusalem, and because they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately.
Where, exactly, in the text, does it say that Jesus claims that His purpose in coming is to save people (let alone just Zaccheus) from, specifically,
...greed, from a dark outlook, from the hell of being under God's condemnation, from self-centeredness, from spiritual bankruptcy, and from a loss of identity as a Jew through participation in the empire of Rome rather than the kingdom of God(?)
Some will say, no doubt, that I have misread Mr. McLaren, that by "in exactly this way," he is referring to the way Jesus saves Zaccheus, rather than what Jesus saves Zaccheus from. But that seems to present just as much difficulty, for Mr. McLaren writes
...Jesus obviously has a plan: his connection with Zaccheus will make space for Zaccheus to repent, to defect from the system of progress through rapid growth, and instead to care for the common good...
Again, no doubt giving Zaccheus space for repentance is a good thing, but where is it in the text? Where is "defect(ion) from the system of progress through rapid growth" in the text?

This wouldn't bother me so much--other writers on scripture are sometimes highly speculative, after all--were it not that the ultimate purpose of all this speculation is to establish that Jesus' purpose, in large part, is to rescue us from "theocapitalism."
Capitalists are right, or at least partly so: many rich people are good people--hardworking, clever, dedicated, disciplined, and exactly the kinds of people who should prosper. But unless they use their prosperity for the common good, they find themselves working for a theocapitalist prosperity system rather than the love economy of God.
After reading page after page of this sort of stuff, one can be forgiven for thinking that capitalism--"theocapitalism" in Mr. McLaren's formulation--occupies a position in his thinking only slightly less loathsome than that of the Devil himself. Or perhaps "modernism.' And assuming he believes in a real Devil. Which seems a bit of a stretch, given that Hell is scarcely given any consideration in the book.

There are other elements that struck me. One is that Mr. McLaren continues his long-established habit of quite outrageously characterizing almost the whole of evangelical Christianity as a one-note Johnny, concerned only with the salvation of individuals and escape from Hell. To be sure, that is obviously a very strong theme within evangelical thinking, but telling stories such as this one:
...Claude began to speak...

"Friends, most of you know me. You know that I am the son of a preacher, and as a result, I grew up going to church all the time, maybe five times a week. What may surprise you, though, is to learn that in all of my childhood, in all the church sevices I attended, I only heard one sermon." At this, eyes got larger and people seemed curious, maybe confused. One sermon in all those years?

He continued, "That sermon went like this: 'You are a sinner and you are going to hell. You need to repent and believe in Jesus. Jesus might come back today, and if he does and you are not ready, you will burn forever in hell.'"

At that, almost everyone began to laugh. They weren't laughing at the idea of going to hell or the idea of believing in Jesus; they were laughing in recognition that this was the only sermon they had ever heard too. Sunday after Sunday, year after year, different words, different Bible verses, but the same point.
may seem funny, but they are also very misleading. I've been in evangelical churches for about
seventeen years now, and I would say flatly that I've never been in a church that had only that one sermon. I've heard sermons on every aspect of living the Christian life imaginable, including good stewardship, good work habits, destructive personal habits, proper giving, how to deal with the poor, etc., etc., etc. Now, either my experience is abnormal, or Mr. McLaren's is, or he is grossly misrepresenting the true state of affairs, or I am. Take your pick.

To sum up, I would say that Mr. McLaren comes tantalizingly close to understanding the problem of the disfunctional world system, but seems almost determined to understand the whole thing through the focusing lens of the Democratic Party platform. In my opinion, his interpretation of scripture is driven by his concerns with--sorry--wacko environmentalism and redistributionist economics. He gives short shrift to any concern about keeping individuals out of Hell (if he believes in it at all, which certainly seems highly questionable) and continues to drop hints of both universalism and Open Theism. My opinion is that in the process, he either
willfully or ignorantly misrepresents whole segments of Christianity and a great deal of social and economic theory and fact. The list price is 21.99. If that seems fair to you, go get it.

******************************************************************************

Here are some miscellaneous "What the ????(?)" moments. This is not exhaustive; there are such moments in all throughout the book, but I quickly got tired of trying to keep track of them all.
As a follower of God in the way of Jesus...
I'll quote a little bit more from that passage in just a sec, but that little bit right there arrested my attention. Although Mr. McLaren mentions later in the book that the word christianity does not actually appear in the Bible and that the earliest disciples referred to it by "the Way," I couldn't help but think, "Doesn't this imply that one could be another kind of "follower of God"
than in the way of Jesus?" I quoted that snippet to a few co-workers, and asked them if they thought it implied anything, and that is also what they came up with. From hints to statements bordering on just outright saying so, Mr. Mclaren certainly gives the impression that he thinks a person can follow God and participate in His plan for the planet--which, judging from many of Mr. McLaren's statements, amounts to salvation in his view--without necessarily believing in Jesus.
As a follower of God in the way of Jesus, I've been involved in a profoundly interesting and enjoyable conversation for the last ten years or so. It's a conversation about what it means to be "a new kind of Christian"--not an angry and reactionary fundamentalist, not a stuffy traditionalist, not a blase nominalist, not a wishy-wasy liberal, not a New Agey religious hipster, not a crusading religious imperialist, and not an overly enthused Bible-waving fanatic--but something fresh and authentic and challenging and adventurous.
I can't help but note that Mr. McLaren has pretty much written off all the "old kinds" of Christian as not "fresh, authentic, challenging, and adventurous." It seems to me that he executes this sort of off-handed slap with considerable regularity, so much so that hardly any segment of Christianity other than Emergent escapes his insults--and yet, he complains of how he is spoken of by the very people he has so viciously criticized.
...when I was a pastor, people often asked my opinion on hot-button issues like evolution, abortion, and homosexuality. The problem was that after discussing those issues in all of their importance and intensity, I couldn't help asking other questions: Why do we need to have singular and firm opinions on the protection of the unborn, but not about how to help poor people and how to avoid killing people labeled enemies who are already born?

Or why are we so concerned about the legitimacy of homosexual marriage but not about the legitimacy of fossil fuels or the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (and in particular, our weapons as opposed to theirs)? Or why are so many religious people arguing about the origin of species but so few concerned about the extinction of species?
I can't help but wonder if it hasn't occurred to him that such words sound like an attempt to distract attention from the fact that he's not really answering the questions put to him. And that the answers one gives to evolution, abortion, and homosexuality have huge implications and effects for and on both the way one interprets scripture and the answers to some of his counter-questions. For example, the debate over abortion concerns, in large part, just what it means to be a person. How can you talk coherently about what to do about how to help people, or how to avoid killing people, if you haven't yet figured out what it means to be "people?"

I must also note that in typically indirect and off-handed fashion, Mr. McLaren does, in fact, answer the question about evolution later in the book, as he talks about millions of years of evolution without any doubt whatsoever that it is fact and not theory.
...something our best theologians have been saying for quite a while...
I'd kind of like to know who the "best theologians" are, but Mr. McLaren doesn't say, not even in the endnotes. One can't help but wonder if the "best theologians" don't turn out to be the ones who agree with Mr. McLaren.
We can rediscover what it can mean to call Jesus Savior and Lord when we raise the question of what exactly he intended to save us from. (His angry Father? The logical consequences of our actions? Our tendency to act in ways that produce undesirable logical consequences? Global self-destruction?)
One can't help but wonder if any of the choices provided amounts to "sin" in different words. I can't help but think of verses like Matthew 1:21, emphasis mine:
She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins."

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Book Review: Brian McLaren's The Secret Message of Jesus


This is another old review that saw publication in a previous blogging incarnation. There is one more, on Mr. McLaren's Everything Must Change, that I will republish soon.
When I initially said that I was going to read and review this book, I said that I would read it twice. I am backing down from that. I am backing down from it because this book has done the one thing that, whether I agree or disagree with it, I really hate for a book to do:

It bored me. I'm sorry, genties and ladlemen. It did. The first fifty pages were engaging enough, even though I disagreed with things here and there. But after that? All the zip went out of it. Even the parts that I disagreed with didn't get my circulation going. I refuse to make myself sit through it a second time.

But shoot--that doesn't mean that there aren't things to say about it, does it? As a matter of fact, there is too much--waaaaay too much to say about it, and I really did have hopes of keeping this review shorter than the last one, cut-and-dried, short-and-sweet. Ain't gonna happen.

Another thing I said before I began to read this book: I said that I was going to try to approach it as though working from a tabula rasa, as though I had never read anything from or about Mr. McLaren and his views. I said that before (if memory serves) reading A Generous Orthodoxy, and since reading that book, I have found it impossible to follow my originally-planned approach to this one. This is largely because I don't see anywhere in this book wherein Mr. McLaren has repudiated his postmodern approach to Scripture, which again, judging from the foreword to A Generous Orthodoxy and much other commentary within that book, is critical of certain, objective, and universal knowledge. This seems to be true in spite of his flirtation with the correspondence theory of truth
A lot of people say, "It doesn't matter what you believe, as long as you're sincere." They're partly right: sincerity is a precious thing, and arguments about who has the correct beliefs have too often led to arrogance, ugly arguments, and even violence. But believing untrue things, however sincerely, can have its own unintended consequences.

For example, try believing that God will be pleased if you fly an airplane into a tall building, that you can get away with embezzling funds, that you have a personal
exemption from sexual propriety, or that your race or religion makes you superior to members of other races or religions. You will become someone nobody respects,
including (eventually) you.

But seeking to believe what is true--seeking to see things as closely as possible to the way they really are, seeking to be faithful to what is and was and will be--puts you increasingly in touch with reality and helps you become a wise and good person. It can also make life a lot more meaningful, and enjoyable. For example, if you have a huge inheritance in the bank and don't believe it, or if somebody really loves you and you don't believe it, you're missing out on a lot, right? Having truer beliefs--beliefs more aligned with reality--makes all the difference.
as all this says nothing that would indicate that Mr. McLaren believes that you can have certain, objective, and universal knowledge of that truth (that is, knowledge that is not particular to you, knowledge of a reality that is the same from person to person, regardless of their background, biases, etc.).This is important to me; it has become clear that nothing Mr. McLaren says can be properly appreciated without taking his understanding of knowledge into account. As a result, it is tempting--extremely tempting--to examine each and every assertion in The Secret Message of Jesus and ask whether, under premises previously acknowledged in Mr. McLaren's work, they make any sense.

Not to be far too obvious about it, but to begin with, if Jesus had a secret message, would it be possible under those premises to know it for certain? To know it apart from your own biases and shortcomings, that is, objectively? To know it in such a way that another person could know it that way, that is, that knowledge of it could be universal? Could two different people, each with their own biases and shortcomings, know the same secret message of Jesus? The answer seems obvious and--not unexpectedly--undermines the whole book before it even gets started.

This weakness seems to be characteristic of many writers these days. Their objective often seems to be to point out that you are limited and fallible and therefore should be humble enough to admit that you might be wrong, but in establishing their premises, they also undermine them, arriving immediately at a state of "knowledge" wherein you cannot really know anything but cannot know that you do not know it. Since no man, in practice, can live or reason like this on a consistent basis, everyone who tries it winds up inconsistent, often revealing obvious biases in what they choose to attack as unknowable or what they choose to affirm as part of their worldview. In practical terms, then, what happens is that if a writer finds that objectively knowing something weakens his case, he will, in that context, attack its knowability, but if objectively knowing something helps his case, he simply writes as though everyone can see that it is true, effectively ignoring previous utterances about certainty, objectivity, and universality whenever it suits his purpose. In my opinion, this sort of thing is quite characteristic of both A Generous Orthodoxy and The Secret Message of Jesus.

The thrust of this book is that Jesus did, in fact, have a secret message, secret because Jesus deliberately couched it in parable and metaphor so that understanding it would require enough of a personal investment on the part of the seeker that the message would not then be casually tossed aside the way so many things that are achieved without a little "sweat equity" are. As Mr. McLaren says:
Why did Jesus speak in parables? Why was he subtle, indirect, and secretive?

Because his message wasn't merely aimed at conveying information. It sought to precipitate something more important: the spiritual transformation of the hearers. The form of a parable helps to shape a heart that is willing to enter an ongoing, interactive, persistent relationship of trust in the teacher. It beckons the hearer to explore new territory. It helps form a heart that is humble enough to admit it doesn't already understand and is thirsty enough to ask questions.
The question immediately arises, though: if being subtle, indirect, and secretive are keys to spiritual transformation, wouldn't explaining this--or Jesus' "secret" message--actually be counterproductive? But we'll table that for now.

What exactly is this secret message? As seems (to judge from the two of his books that I've read) not uncommon with Mr. McLaren, it is a little bit hard to find one clear, explicit statement. In fact, given that Mr. McLaren tells you right up front, in his introduction, that he doesn't know what the secret message is himself
No, I can't tell you that I have it all figured out, but I can tell you I am confident that I'm on to something. After many years of searching, struggling, questioning, doubting, wondering, walking away frustrated, returning, rereading, and starting all over again, I've seen a few things that are making the pieces come together for me and many others. If I'm not at that point in the movie where the rush of insight happens, I'm right on the verge of it. Maybe as I write the pages you're about to read, more will come clear and I'll cross the threshold to a new degree of understanding.
it's not at all surprising to find that it's hard to find a clear, explicit statement of what the secret message is.

I can't help but pause for a moment to note that that quote, more than anything else I've read from his pen, has convinced me that Mr. McLaren has nerves of steel. My word, but it takes nerve to write a book whose thesis appears to be, "We've gotten it wrong for centuries, but I think I'm on the verge of putting us on the right track. Please bear with me." Nerves of steel, as I said, would be required to sell it for twenty bucks a copy--but that's what Mr. McLaren has done. Nothing immoral about it, I suppose, but definitely nervy.

But I digress. I think that if one strings together a quote from this page and that page (The following quotes are not contiguous, that is, you have to turn from page to page to get the whole idea), you might get a pretty good idea of what Mr. McLaren thinks the secret message is:
What is that alternative? It is to see, seek, receive, and enter a new political and social and spiritual reality he calls the kingdom (or empire) of God, or the kingdom (or empire) of heaven.

...in the kingdom of God, the ultimate authority is not Caesar but rather the Creator. And you find your identity--your citizenship--not in Rome but rather in a spiritual realm, in the presence of God (which is what heaven means...)

I believe that Jesus' message of the kingdom of God becomes especially clear in this fourth context, one which actually includes and combines the other three. A new
day is coming--a new earth, a new world order, a new reality, a new realm--in short, a new kingdom. In that new reality, the poor and rejected will be embraced and valued and brought back into the community. In that new era, what will count is what is in the heart--not merely what is projected, pretended, or professed. In that new realm, evil in all its forms will be exposed, named, and dealt with. In that new kingdom, justice, integrity, and peace will overcome.

...Jesus says again and again, this kingdom advances with neither violence nor bloodshed, with neither hatred nor revenge. It is not just another one of the kingdoms of this world. No, this kingdom advances slowly, quietly, under the sruface--like yeast in dough, like a seed in soil. It advances with faith: when people believe it is true, it becomes true. And it advances with reconciling, forgiving love: when people love strangers and enemies, the kingdom gains ground.
Putting it together, then, with an impression gleaned here, an ambiguous comment there, etc., I don't think I am too far off when I say that Mr. McLaren conceives Jesus' secret message to be:
I (that is, Jesus) am making it possible through my work on the cross for the whole world to be reconciled to God; you can be part of this reconciliation, and if you will all turn away from your self-centered, selfish point of view and love, and demonstrate that love in the sacrificial way that I do, this message of reconciliation will eventually spread throughout the whole world and it will all be reconciled to God and it will be just the way He always dreamed it would be.
And the fact of the matter is that as far it goes, as far as what it says (again, recognizing that I am attempting to paraphrase and summarize Mr. McLaren's ideas) directly, this is not bad. In some respects, it strikes me as a bit similar to amillenialism, the idea that there will be no thousand-year reign of Christ, but rather, a thousand-year period during which
the church--paraphrasing crudely here--christianizes the whole world, and then Jesus will come back. And truthfully, if this is all there was to the book, if all that Mr. McLaren was doing therein was exploring some eschatological ideas, I don't know that I would have very much problem with it.

Prophecy, genties and ladlemen, can be very confusing. I don't pretend to be an expert and I tend automatically to question the judgment of anyone who thinks he is. While there are some prophecies that are very clear and direct (God said Tyre would be scraped flat and used as a place for fishermen to dry out their nets, and lo and behold--that is just what happened), there are others that--as yet--are not quite so clear. It has often seemed to me that many prophecies are only clearly understood after--perhaps in the midst of--their fulfillment. Some of the prophecies in the book of Daniel are like that. Other prophecies appear to be capable of multiple fulfillments. The upshot is that I don't particularly blame a person for having a different view of end-times prophecy than I do (I tend pre-mil, post-trib--though I wouldn't describe myself as a dispensationalist) and Mr. McLaren holding a point of view not terribly dissimilar from amillennialism would, for me, be a big "So, what?"

No, the problems I have with Mr. McLaren's book have little to do with his eschatological views. The problems tend to be with things he implies, things--sometimes critical things--he leaves unsaid or unaddressed, and with his presuppositions, assumptions, and methodology.

First Problem:

I almost hesitate to bring this up, but after a while, it gets so noticeable as to be almost impossible not to talk about it. I am referring to what--at least so it seems to me--a strong tendency on the part of Mr. McLaren to talk, not only as if only he and his crowd "get it," but as if they are they the only ones who want to get it. To my mind, a sort of...well, more-spiritual-than-thou, more-open-minded-than-thou snootiness pervades the book:
Would we want to know what that message is?

How much? Would we be willing to look hard, think deeply, and search long in order to find it? Would we be willing to rethink our assumptions?
Now, genties and ladlemen, earlier in the introduction, Mr. McLaren has already indicated that he would be so willing:
The goal of my exploration is to understand
Jesus--and, in particular, his message...
and it is a little difficult not to think that should one not end up agreeing with Mr. McLaren, that it will be put down to one's closed-mindedness, one's unwillingness to look hard, think deeply, search long, and rethink assumptions.
For me, these aren't just theoretical questions.
Possibly for everyone else, they are just intellectual playthings? Not for the first time I find myself wondering if Mr. McLaren really thinks that these questions haven't been asked, time and again, by enormous numbers of people within the church throughout its history.

Quoting a blurb from Tony Campolo:
Brian McLaren has done it again.
That's understating the matter a little. I didn't even get through two whole pages of The Secret Message of Jesus before something made me sputter:
For many years, I have been seeking something. You might call it a spiritual quest or maybe a personal obsession. The goal of my exploration is to understand Jesus--and, in particular, his message...

Some people think that a spiritual quest of any kind is a colossal waste of time. For them, the only things that are real are those that can be proven and measured...

Others think my search is a waste of time for a different reason. They think they've got Jesus and his message figured out, reduced to their own kind of mathematics...
One cannot help but note at this point that Mr. McLaren has said, in his introduction to the book, that he almost has Jesus' secret message figured out--is so close, in fact, that he thinks it possible that writing the book my give him the final burst of insight for which he is looking. Why, one wonders, would it be a problem for the "others" he mentions here to think that they've got Jesus and His message figured out, but it will not be a problem for Mr. McLaren and his acolytes to have it figured out? He is seeking to figure it out, is he not?
But many people seem to share my hunch that neither a formulaic religious approach nor a materialistic secular approach has it all nailed down.
And right there, I just 'bout came unglued, as we ignernt ol' rednecks sometimes say. The set-up, and that last line in particular, is simultaneously a logical error (the fallacy of the false alternative, that is, the choice is not just between "a formulaic religious approach" and "a materialistic secular approach") and insulting--that is, if you don't share Mr. McLaren's hunch, your religion is apparently purely a matter of formula. I'm sure he didn't mean it that way and I forgive him, but it is hard not to notice that in Mr. McLaren's world, those who disagree with him get pigeonholed in mighty unflattering terms mighty cotton-pickin' quick. Kind of odd behavior for someone who seems to strive very hard to avoid being pigeonholed himself.

Also:
What if Jesus' secret message reveals a secret plan? What if he didn't come to start a new religion--but rather came to start a political, social,
religious, artistic,economic, intellectual, and spiritual revolution that would give birth to a new world? What if his secret message had practical implications for such issues as how you live your daily life, how you earn and spend money, how you treat people of other races and religions, and how the nations of the world conduct their foreign policy? What if his message directly or indirectly addressed issues like advertising, environmentalism, terrorism, economics, sexuality, marriage, parenting, the quest for happiness and peace, and racial reconciliation?
I am really trying not to be over-sensitive here, but it is really hard to escape the idea that Mr. McLaren honestly thinks that possibly, just possibly, the idea that Jesus' teaching is supposed to touch all of life has escaped most Christians.

Second problem:

It seems to me that Mr. McLaren has a tendency to portray things in such a way that it seems, on the surface, as though the possibilities he presents are the only valid ones. In particular, he seems prone to the fallacy of the false alternative. This is probably not intentional, but it seems to be persistent. For example, from the introduction:
Think of all the people who in recent years have read (or seen) The Da Vinci Code--not just as a popular page-turner but as an experience in shared frustration with the status-quo, male-dominated, power-oriented, cover-up prone organized Christian religion? Why is the vision of Jesus hinted at in Dan Brown's book more interesting, more attractive, and more intriguing to these people than the standard version of Jesus they hear about from churches? Why would they be disappointed to find that Brown's version of Jesus has been largely discredited as fanciful and inaccurate, leaving only the church's conventional version? Is it possible that even though Brown's fictional version misleads in many ways, it at least serves to open up the possibility that the church's conventional versions of Jesus may not do him justice?
Now, look at that: as far as I can tell from Mr. McLaren's text, the only possible reason that people could have rushed to embrace the non-divine Jesus Dan Brown depicts is that they are dissatisfied with the awful way the Church presents Jesus. But is that necessarily the only reason? Is it possible that people
...like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way...
That people
...knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.
That people willingly
...exchanged
the truth about God for a lie...
and that they
...did not see fit to acknowledge God
and that they are, by nature and by
choice
...haters of God...(?)
That, in short, people flocked to read The Da Vinci Code because they wanted another excuse not to believe in the only one who can help them? One can't help but wonder if that line of thinking even occurred to Mr. McLaren. It is certainly not evident in the text.

Another example:
Now, back to Nicodemus. He comes to Jesus at night and begins with a compliment: "It's obvious you're a great teacher. We're all very
impressed with your miracles, which make it clear that God is with you." Jesus doesn't respond with a polite "Thanks for the compliment." Instead, he cuts to the chase and says, "Unless you are born anew, you won't enter the kingdom of God" (see John 3:2-3).

Born anew or born again, like eternal life, is another frequently misunderstood phrase, one that many people make equivalent to saying a prayer at the end of a booklet or tract, or having an emotional experience at the end of a church service. It often signifies a status achieved through some belief or experience, so that it becomes an adjective: "I'm a born-again Christian." But it's clear that Jesus isn't just talking about a religious experience or status Nicodemus needs to acquire like some sort of certification. No, Jesus is saying, "Nicodemus, you're a Pharisee. You're a respected teacher yourself. But if you are coming to me hoping to experience the extraordinary life to the full I've been teaching about, you are going to have to go back to the very beginning. You're going to have to become like a baby all over again, to unlearn everything you are already so sure of, so you can be retaught."
Mr McLaren talks about this passage a little more, but this is the portion that I am interested in. I am interested in it for two reasons: first, because in this passage, despite his earlier flirtation with the correspondence theory of truth, Mr. McLaren has jumped back on his you-shouldn't-be-sure horse with a vengeance. And second, because what Mr. McLaren represents Jesus as having said here isn't quite what he is recorded as having said.

Jesus didn't say that Nicodemus had to become like a baby again. He didn't say that Nicodemus had to unlearn what he knew. He said--to my mind, very clearly, despite Mr. McLaren's characterization of Jesus' words as unclear--that Nicodemus needed a new kind of life in addition to, not instead of, the one he already possessed--though having the new kind of life, as is seen later, changes what one does with the old kind. Here is the passage, in the English Standard Version:
Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man
came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him."

Jesus answered him, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God."

Nicodemus said to him, "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born?"

Jesus answered, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.
And next Jesus explains what He means:
That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."
This is not terribly ambiguous or unclear. Nicodemus had already been born once--he had been born of the flesh. But he did not yet have spiritual life. To have spiritual life, Nicodemus needed to be born spiritually just as he had been born of the flesh. And just like no one really understands how the wind works, but everyone hears it and understands that it is there, so no one on earth really, fully, understands just how God works the New Birth, but its presence can be detected. There is no "unlearning" process here, either explicitly or implicitly. Sad to say, that appears to be pure eisegesis on Mr. McLaren's part. Instead of "unlearning," what we have is the gift of a new kind of life, a life that Nicodemus did not previously have nor understand how to get, something that he was powerless to achieve on his own--which would, of course, leave the whole thing in the hands of God. To my mind, Mr. McLaren has presented a partial and misleading picture of Nicodemus' story to buttress his particular view of what it means to be "born again."

As an aside (though we will return to this subject shortly), I can't help but wonder if Mr. McLaren's repeated sarcastic references (in this book and in A Generous
Orthodoxy
) to the "machine-operator God" of Calvinism don't explain Mr. McLaren's view of this passage. Is it possible that he so dislikes the idea of a God who says, emphasis mine
"Remember this and stand firm, recall it to mind, you transgressors, remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, 'My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose...'
that he will not see how this passage leaves all the initiative up to God and not to Nicodemus? One would be hard-pressed to blame someone for thinking so.

Another somewhat misleading--again, probably not intentionally so--use of a Scriptural portrayal, this one describing Jesus:
He is a king who acts like a servant by washing his disciples' feet, who rides a humble donkey rather than a warrior's stallion, who rules not from a throne but from a cross, who brings peace not by shedding the blood of others but by bleeding and suffering himself...
All of which is true enough as far as it goes, but it doesn't go nearly far enough. It leaves out another picture of Jesus:
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges
and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.
Third problem:

There's an awful lot that Mr. McLaren doesn't say in this book. That is not too much of a surprise; he didn't say it in A Generous Orthodoxy, either.

Mr. McLaren mentions more than once that Jesus' work, or suffering, upon the cross makes it possible for us to be reconciled to God, but he never--that I noticed, except for a brief vignette from years ago, wherein someone suggests to him that he might be wrong about what the gospel is--talks about Him being punished for our sin. Instead, the emphasis seems to be on how the cross exposed sin so that it might be seen for what it is and "dealt with." Which brings up the next point:

Mr. McLaren never really comes to grips with how that sin is "dealt with." While he does spend some time acknowledging that part of the purpose of the parables was to
exclude those who didn't want to understand, he never really talks about how that exclusion is ultimately resolved. Aside from something of a suggestion that judgment may not be all fire-and-brimstone:
...Jesus spoke of coming judgment on injustice and hypocrisy. For the ancient prophets, judgment didn't mean that people would be thrown into hell. Rather, it meant that their evil would be exposed and named, and they would suffer consequences of their evil in history, in this life.
from which one might reasonably get the idea that God's judgment might be closely akin to public humiliation, the subject isn't really addressed.

Mr. McLaren (again, for he did the same thing in A Generous Orthodoxy) doesn't clearly explain what he means by "inclusive" and "exclusive," and leaves the strong
impression that people who don't believe in Jesus will wind up in the Kingdom.
What if the message of Jesus was good news--not just for Christians but also for Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus, New Agers, agnostics, and atheists?
Does this mean that a Muslim, remaining Muslim--which entails a direct denial of the divinity of Christ and salvation by grace through faith--will be in the kingdom of God? Or does Mr. McLaren mean that the Muslim will eventually come 'round to faith in Christ? Or does this mean only that the Muslim will experience some of God's blessing in the way that God sends His rain upon both the just and the unjust? If Mr. McLaren ever addresses this clearly and directly, I missed it. This following material seems to be as close to addressing the subject as Mr. McLaren ever gets. And I'm sorry, but I have found it too hard to resist inserting some commentary of my own.
What was true for Jesus' contemporaries--that they could miss the kingdom while those from "east and west and north and south" would come in and enjoy the feast--could certainly be true for adherents to the Christian religion today. Wouldn't it be fascinating if thousands of Muslims, alienated with where fundamentalists and extremists have taken their religion...
"Fundamentalists and extremists"? Those "fundamentalists and extremists" are doing exactly what Muhammad did, exactly what the Q'uran tells them to do. When Muhammad himself was given to things like having his critics beheaded and conquering and killing or subjecting to dhimmi-tude non-Muslims, how is it that Mr. McLaren can label any Muslim following Muhammad's example an extremist?
...began to "take their places at the feast," discovering the secret message of Jesus in ways that many Christians have not? Could it be that Jesus, always recognized as one of the greatest prophets of Islam, could in some way be rediscovered to save Islam from its dangerous dark side?
Two things to note: first, one does not take a place at the feast under discussion without believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior, in which case one is no longer a follower of Islam, no longer a Muslim; and second, Islam, as exemplified in the life of its founder, has nothing but dark side. There is no rescuing it; there is only abandoning it.
Similarly, wouldn't there be a certain ironic justice if Jesus' own kinsmen, the Jewish people, led the way in understanding and practicing the core teaching of one of their own prophets who has too often been hijacked by other interests or ideologies? Or if Buddhists, Hindus, and even former atheists and agnostics came from "east and west and north and south" and began to enjoy the feast of the kingdom in ways that those bearing the name Christian have
not?
One cannot miss the significance of the word "former." It is attached to "atheist" and "agnostic," it apparently being too much for Mr. McLaren to contemplate a person who didn't even believe in God at all to sit down at a feast He puts on, but is not attached to "Buddhist" or "Hindu." One can't help but wonder if Mr. McLaren means that there will be former Buddhists and Hindus at the feast, and if this was merely a slip of the keyboard, in which case I would say a hearty "Amen! There certainly will be former Buddhists and Hindus and Wiccans and Neo-Pagans and thises and thatses at the feast! Amen!" But if it was intentional, does Mr. McLaren really mean to say that at this feast there will be people who don't believe in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior? Buddhism and Christianity are not really compatible belief-systems, you know. A Buddhist believes that through right living, he can escape the wheel of karma, endless reincarnation, and become one with an impersonal ultimate; a Christian believes that by trusting in Jesus, the trust itself being a gift of God, he will not bear the punishment he so richly deserves, that Jesus has borne it for him, and that he will then spend eternity--starting right then!--serving and glorifying his God and Savior (often, maybe even mostly, by acts of service and kindness to others), who is personal, that is, is a person. A common belief that right actions are important does not, by itself, make the two views compatible and does not mean that non-believers will be at the feast. But, like I say, Mr. McLaren never really resolves this question and just leaves you wondering.

I must return, at this point, to the story of Nicodemus:
Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?"

Jesus answered him, "Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man
be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been carried out in God."
I quoted more of this passage because there are elements in it that give some of Mr. McLaren's ideas more trouble. Note the contrast between perish and eternal life. Mr. McLaren is fond of noting that there is more to eternal life than going to Heaven when you die (and I would certainly agree with that much), but he makes it out as though "eternal life" is...well, let's quote the man:
..."an extraordinary life to the full centered in a relationship with God."
which strikes me as one of those things that's true as far as it goes, but it doesn't go nearly far enough. Often, what you don't say is every bit as important as what you do say. One could easily--far too easily!--get the impression from Mr. McLaren's definition that not having "eternal life" would mean merely missing out on "an extraordinary life to the full." But that is not the case. Jesus contrasted--again, very clearly--"perish" and "eternal life." If one does not have "eternal life," one "perishes." That is a little more severe than Mr. McLaren seems to like to make it out to be. Note also that Jesus--inclusive as always--said very clearly that whoever does not believe is condemned. That is pretty strong stuff. It doesn't seem to leave a whole lot of room for the sort of "inclusiveness" that Mr. McLaren keeps hinting at. And given that it doesn't leave a whole lot of room for it, I can't help but think we have a responsibility to warn people--even if some don't see that as inclusive behavior.

Fourth problem:

Mr. McLaren still, it seems to me, resolves the problem of how he knows something when he rejects--one cannot be reminded of this too much--certain, objective, and
universal knowledge by allowing his feelings to be the final arbiter of truth. Emphasis mine:
p. 5 But through these years, an uncomfortable feeling has showed me that the portrait of Jesus I found in the New Testament didn't fit with the image of Christianity projected by religious institutions, charismatic televangelists, religious spokespeople in the media--and sometimes, my own preaching.
Not his reasoning, not his exegesis. An uncomfortable feeling.

Fifth problem, and the last I'll be discussing in this review, though there are others:

Mr. McLaren's loathing of the "machine-operator god"--I still don't think it's too much to say that he is openly embracing Open Theism--coupled with the idea that the Kingdom of God spreads from person to person, bit by bit, as we are faithful to serve and to share it, pretty much inevitably leads to the idea that part of Jesus' secret message is that this whole enterprise can fail, that God's purposes can fail to be realized.
...I often struggle with how to paraphrase the clause "your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

..."the will of God" can evoke the idea of a despot, a tyrant, a puppeteer, a deterministic machine operator imposing his will, turning a prayer for liberation into a plea for an end to free will. (Of course, if God were such a controlling God, it's hard to imagine how such a prayer would ever become necessary in the first place!) Since the language of "will" can take us down a trail of control, domination, and coercion, and since I don't believe those ideas are in Jesus' mind at all, I have looked for other words.

The Greek word that lies beneath our English word will can also be translated wish. But to say, "May your wish come true" sounds rather fairy tale-ish and
creates other problems. But I have found the idea of "the dream of God for creation" does the job quite nicely. "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven" could thus be rendered, "May all your dreams for your creation come true." This language suggests a more personal, less mechanistic relationship between God
and our world.
It also suggests that God might not be in control, that things just might not turn out the way He wants. Again, to my mind, this sort of view of God flies in the face of Biblical material that says very clearly that God will accomplish all His purposes.

I do not understand all there is to know and understand about the relationship between man's free choices (not man's free will. The will is not free. It is a very common mistake to confuse free choice and free will.) and God's sovereign will. I would love to, but I don't think that I ever will. To understand it all would require that I become God, I think.

The upshot of the book: The Secret Message of Jesus amounts to this: We can be on the team that is trying to save the world, and we should be trying to grow the team and we should do that at least as much through deeds and example as through words. But it may be possible that the world won't end up getting saved if we don't do our part. And more people than you think may wind up being on the team. In addition to this--and this is one part of the book that I did like--there are some very practical suggestions about how to do good to your neighbors, and a great deal of what I would regard as speculation.

If that's worth twenty simoleons to you, go get it.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Book Review: Brian McLaren's A Generous Orthodoxy


This li'l book review is from a previous blogging incarnation. I believe it first saw light some three years or so ago. Some may feel that it is pointless to republish it, as Brian McLaren and Emergent seem so...

so...

over. And that may be true to a degree. But still, there is some material here that some may find entertaining.
I began to read this book with some hesitancy. I knew it would be hard for me to review for a variety of reasons. I finished it, glad that I had read it--largely so people'd not be able to say, "Well, if only you'd read it..." anymore. But right there, we run into the first of the reasons that the book was hard for me to review: the idea, contained in "Chapter 0", that
You may be looking for dirt so you can write a hostile review. Chances are you'll find exactly what you're looking for, whether it's here or not.
Now that, genties and ladlemen, struck me--though it was perhaps not intended this way--as indicating a particularly nasty assumption that only an a priori assumption that the book was bad in some way could possibly result in a negative review.

I'll readily admit that I did not, before beginning the book, expect to find that Mr. McLaren and I agreed on much. He is well known for making statements that fly in the face of mainstream Christianity--both doctrinally and attitudinally, in my opinion. I was, however, determined to be fair and accurate to the very best of my ability. But that quote gave me the feeling--a feeling I have had as a result of comments from other quarters, as well--that any less than adulatory comments from my keyboard would automatically be dismissed as the ravings of some ignorant turnip with an axe to grind.

That didn't help my attitude in the slightest--but I went into the reading and the review determined to let it affect me as little as possible.

Mr. McLaren didn't make it easy. Early in the book, it seems he did his best to completely eliminate the possibility that I might take him seriously. Nothing could have been more effective than his statement that
...as in most of my other books, there are places here where I have gone out of my way to be provocative, mischievous, and unclear, reflecting my belief that clarity is sometimes overrated, and that shock, obscurity, playfulness, and intrigue (carefully articulated) often stimulate more thought than clarity.
Now, you may have thought that was a delightfully wry, witty, and profound thing to say; I thought it was an easy "out" for a writer. After that statement, nothing else in the book can be effectively criticized; should one find that Mr. McLaren has committed a particularly egregious non-sequitur, indulged in a category error, made a hidden assumption or any other error of fact or logic all he or his acolytes have to do is say, "Aha, he told you at the beginning that he might do something like this, to make you think. Now didn't he do a great job? Surely you don't suppose that he actually meant that the moon is made of blue cheez whiz? You terribly gauche little man! Aaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" It immediately becomes impossible to know whether Mr. McLaren is being serious in any part of the book.

After reading the book, there are some things I think I have in common with Mr. McLaren, chief amongst them a concern over adding unnecessary, man-made thinking and ideas to what God has said. One of the biggest issues I have with the North American Church as I know it is its habit, seemingly quite persistent, of confusing Finneyism with evangelism. The tendency of many to proscribe or discourage or belittle behaviors that are not proscribed, discouraged, or belittled in Holy Writ is another. I am occasionally driven nearly to hysteria by people who seem to want to make the simple-yet-tough commands of the New Testament into a system of behavior that is much more complex, yet simpler to obey. My reading of A Generous Orthodoxy leads me to believe that Mr. McLaren likewise decries this sort of thing.

I also get the impression that Mr. McLaren and I share an appreciation and concern for the physical world that God has made. While I would certainly not conclude that the actions he favors are the best options or that certain of his diagnoses are correct, it is clear that we agree that this world--already under a curse--can be, if not completely ruined outright, certainly heavily damaged by man's actions, sometimes beyond repair. To my mind, this is obvious. Doubters need only consult the sons and daughters of Carthage. This does not mean that we have to buy into every environmental scare thrown up to us, like anthropogenic global warming, but it does mean that any idiot tries to take reasonable care of his dwelling place.

There are other little things that I find in common with Mr. McLaren, like the experience he describes here:
...on this occasion, for a period of about 20 minutes, I felt that every tree, every blade of grass, and every pool of water become especially eloquent with God's grandeur. Somehow they seemed to become transparent--or perhaps translucent is the better word--because each thing in its particularity was still utterly visible and unspeakably important: the movement of the grass in waves swayed by the wind, the way the goldfinches perch just so on a purple thistle plant. These specific, concrete things became translucent in the sense that a powerful, indescribable, invisible light seemed to shine through. The beauty of the creations around me, which am always careful to notice, seemed on this day to explode, seemed to detonate, seemed to radiate with glory.

An ecstacy overcame me that I can't describe. It brings tears to my eyes as I sit here and type. It was the exuberant joy of simply seeing these masterpieces of God's creation...and knowing myself to be among them. It was to be one of them, and to feel and know that "we"--all of these creatures, molecules, and phenomena--were together known and loved by God, who embraced us all into the ultimate "We."

In this experience, as in many others, I felt a tinge of fear along with the joy--fear that my physical being could not contain the joy I felt, that I was about to split or explode or come undone. I was simply silent, walking normally although a bit slower than usual. But I could never have shouted loud enough or danced outrageously enough to express the joy that I contained, that I received, during that walk. I cannot express it now.
I have had experiences very similar to this, though I do not necessarily think that they are exclusive to the Christian faith. I had them before my conversion, and I have had them afterwards. Buddhists sometimes talk of such things as satori, and existentialists might describe such a thing as a final experience. Some people have had such experiences during episodes of drug abuse, others during practices similar to ibuki breathing or Sanchin no kata. I have not made up my mind whether such experiences are a gift of God, intended to confirm His reality among both believers and non-believers, or simply the result of a confluence of conditions--physical, mental, and chemical--on the human nervous system. Perhaps they are both, perhaps neither. I do think, though, that it is a tremendous mistake to take such an experience as validation of one's thinking about God, which is what Mr. McLaren seems to do next. Emphasis is mine:
Because of experiences like this over the years, I know that contemplatives and charismatics are talking about the same thing.
That word--"know"--is tremendously important in light of other things in the book--namely, the repeated suggestions that knowledge can't be certain, objective, or universal.

It is a little difficult to find a completely clear statement of the point or idea that Mr. McLaren is trying to expound in the book. It seems less an exposition of Mr. McLaren's ideas than encouragement to consider that all of yours--at least, if you are a someone who believes that you can objectively know something to be universally true--might be wrong. Summing it up as best I can, the fundamental idea seems to be that it is wrong, in saying what Christianity is and is not, to go beyond the Apostles' and Nicene Creeds, that an over-emphasis on doctrinal distinctives excludes people, and exclusion is not what Jesus practiced, and neither should we. Further, the way to inclusive spirituality--a "generous orthodoxy"--is something "beyond" theological liberalism and/or conservatism, both of those being based on "modernism," an insistence that it can be objectively known whether someone is right or wrong about certain issues.

Modernism--and I do not, by the way, buy into Mr. McLaren's more-or-less tacit assumption (I gather that he feels that the point has been adequately demonstrated elsewhere) that saying that a person can know objective truth is necessarily to identify with modernist or naturalist philosophy--seems truly to be Mr. McLaren's bete noire. I do not think I go too far in saying that the whole book stands or falls on whether it is objectively true that modernism is untrue. It seems ultimately ironic that over the course of almost three hundred pages seemingly devoted to convincing the reader that he can't and shouldn't think that he is right--absolutely right--about any given spiritual matter, Mr. McLaren really doesn't seem ever to come to grips with the incontrovertible fact that if he is wrong, he has written three hundred pages of gibberish. In this--as in so many things--Mr. McLaren simply seems to take it for granted that he has the right idea.

It's also difficult to find a clear definition of what he means by the aforementioned "doctrinal distinctives." Although he says clearly that he affirms the aforementioned creeds--and I do think they could be considered doctrinal distinctives, at least insofar as they serve to differentiate Christianity from, say, the religion of Anton Szandor LaVey--and that he considers Scripture to be over the creeds, he also says
...accumulating orthodoxy makes it harder year by year to be a Christian than it was in Jesus' day. To be orthodox one has to have right opinions about far more things than one needed to have back then, when having a right opinion toward Jesus (i.e., confidence or trust in him) was about all it took.
which makes it sound like he considers not even the creeds necessary to orthodoxy. If that is the case, is there anything that does not fall into the category of a "doctrinal distinctive" which we shouldn't overemphasize? It also sounded to me that Mr. McLaren was trying to slip in something that wasn't necessarily so, that he was trying to equate "orthodox" and "Christian" and make it sound like since trust in Jesus was all it took to be Christian, that is all it took to be orthodox. But there are, and have been, plenty of Christians who were unorthodox in one way or another, ways that didn't and don't necessarily mean they weren't saved. Look at 1 Corinthians! To determine whether an unorthodox person is also a Christian person is a little more involved than that.

It's also a little difficult to get a firm handle on what he means by "exclusive." Mr. McLaren seems much concerned that the Church--following the example of Jesus--not exclude anyone.
(p. 70)The name of Jesus, whose life and message resonated with acceptance, welcome, and inclusion, has too often become a symbol of elitism, exclusion, and aggression.
I suppose that there are churches out there that really are exclusive; no doubt, there are multitudes of social clubs masquerading as churches, and these might very properly be characterized as "exclusive." But the problem is that Mr. McLaren never really clearly explains--at least to the satisfaction of this ignernt ol' redneck--exactly what the sam hill he means by "exclusive." In avoiding exclusivity, does he mean that the pews of the Church should be filled with non-believers, eager to get in on what is obviously a good thing? Does he mean that the Church should reach out in love to those around it, regardless of whether or not they are believers? It would be hard to quarrel with such a thing. Or does he mean that the Church shouldn't tell lost people that they are lost, because they might not feel welcome? That would be harder to accept. It seems that it would directly conflict with the believer's duty to warn the wicked from his way--unless, as seems distinctly possible from other passages, Mr. McLaren simply does not believe that non-Christians will wind up in Hell. Or does he mean that the church has few, if any grounds, for excluding professing believers from fellowship? Does he mean that the Church should welcome Hindus (or Buddhists, or Muslims?) as fellow believers or members of the Body?

A person could be forgiven for thinking such; Mr. McLaren goes to some trouble to suggest that a person should be able to be a follower of Jesus in, say, a Buddhist context. But I could not tell whether by that he meant that a person could simultaneously be a Buddhist, a believer in the Eight-fold path, in the veil of maya, in Brahman, and be a Christian, or whether he meant that a person could remain in a Buddhist culture, eating his traditional foods, wearing his traditional clothing, speaking the old language. Would he say that you could be a follower of Jesus in the context of Baalism? What about Molech-ism? I wonder what being a follower of Jesus would be like in the context of the cult of Thuggee? (Don't laugh, there really was such a cult; it is where our term "thug" comes from.) I could not determine for sure whether he meant all of these, none of these, or some combination of any of them.

So what is left, once it is determined that both the point to be demonstrated and the demonstration itself are less than clear--perhaps intentionally so? To my mind, it can be summed up in a single word (despite Mr. McLaren's dislike of reductionism): boilerplate. I am not sure which came first, but it seems to me that almost all of the Emerging Conversation I have heard sounds like it was taken--almost word for word, in more than a few cases--from this book. Its stories, vignettes, arguments, and observations seem to so completely dominate the Emergent Conversation/Church/Movement/Thingie that a person might easily conclude that actual conversing had stopped after this book's publication and dissemination. In fact, this statement almost seems prophetic, emphasis mine:
On top of all this absurdity, if the generous orthodoxy described in this book is valid, it implies a necessary critique of ungenerous tendencies in other orthodoxies, which could, ironically, result in this orthodoxy becoming no more generous than the others.

In other words, this orthodoxy could present itself as tolerant and generous, but really, beneath the surface, it could be just as disgusted with rival approaches to orthodoxy as any other self-proclaimed orthodoxy has been.
And this has, in fact, largely been my experience of it.

There are other things about the book, things that made it a little difficult to review, or to which I objected strongly enough that I felt like I had to comment. In no particular order:

First, the text is larded with so many loaded words and phrases that I found myself wishing that it would be possible to just reproduce the entirety of the text and respond to it bit by bit. Throughout the book, the author (and even the author of the foreword) seemed to take it so much for granted that his audience would at least be sympathetic to his point of view that massively important words are casually redefined with little or no announcement and certain attitudes on the part of the reader seem to have been taken for granted, or something is discussed in terms that may delineate only part of its reality, when embracing a broader view might lead to different conclusions entirely.

Just for example, while it would be difficult to find an explicit statement that "Capitalism is the economics of greed" in the book, capitalism is, whenever discussed, discussed in such a way that if a person did not arrive at that conclusion, it would surprise me greatly. And yes--there is a strong undercurrent of greed in some capitalists' thinking, though I would point out that greed is hardly an evil peculiar only to capitalism, and would further argue that greed, far from being an essential component of capitalism, is something of a betrayal of it. To my mind, capitalism is not about greed, it is about liberty, the freedom of men and women to work and to determine what to do with the fruits of their labor themselves, the freedom not to have their assets plundered, the freedom to crawl up out of poverty without having to have the good fortune of being born into a privileged class or to lick the hands of those above them. Properly instituted, it is the most egalitarian of economic systems, and the only one--the only one!--that demonstrably produces a real increase in the standard of living for multitudes of people. I asked my son, who within the last few years has read Hernando de Soto's The Mystery of Capital (highly recommended) and Marx's Das Kapital and The Communist Manifesto (mentioned just so you know that, though unquestionably a capitalist conservative, he does not speak from an uninformed point of view), whether he thought capitalism was the economics of greed, and he answered, instantly, "No--it would be better named 'consumerism,' because what it is, is the best and fairest way to bring goods and services to a large number of people at prices they can afford."

You can see that it is easily possible to see a little more to capitalism than greed and exploitation, but I don't think you would ever know that from Mr. McLaren's references to the subject. As far as I can tell, he sees the greed and exploitation without seeing the liberty and the incredible way the poorest among us have been provided with goods and services that would have once been considered pipe dreams and this stilted view of capitalism is reflected in all that he says about it.

I found subjects treated similarly throughout the book, views so one-sided as to be inaccurate, presented as though they were the most natural thing in the world. I often found myself looking at a passage and thinking that it was as if he had written that he had just visited the Pope and his wife on the occasion of their son's bar mitzvah; completely impossible, and yet it's done so smoothly and seamlessly that a casual reader might not even notice. And I saw this kind of stuff on page after page. It's not that it's so difficult to understand the problems with some of his statements, it's that they're so "loaded" that a truly adequate response would just take for-cotton-pickin'-ever.

Whenever Mr. McLaren refers to political conservatism, it is with the most thinly-veiled of sneers, usually to the effect that his bete noire, modernism, has chained conservative Christianity to political Christianity--as though this were the only and most natural outcome of modernistic thinking. But the facts of the matter are otherwise; it wasn't always this way. It was less than a generation ago that one found, in great numbers, theologically conservative Christians very much wedded to Democratic Party politics, what were once touted as the politics of the "little guy." It wasn't modernism that produced the conservative Christian swing into the Republican Party; as Ramesh Ponnuru said in The Party of Death, it was the Democratic Party's unswerving devotion to abortion on demand (the true meaning of Roe v. Wade).

I noted that Mr. McLaren didn't touch on the importance of the abortion issue in this discussion at all (or if he did, I missed it completely), leading me to suspect that his view on the subject may well have been formed without taking important facts into consideration.

From the foreword--yes, I know I'm reviewing the book, not the foreword; but Mr. McLaren certainly never repudiates what is said in the foreword, and indeed, seems to agree with it entirely, so I feel very comfortable in talking about it--by John R. Franke, Associate Prof of Theology, Biblical Theological Seminary, Hatfield, Pa, p. 10
This failure has prompted the emergence of postmodern theory with its critique of certain, objective, universal knowledge and its quest to construct new forms of thought in the aftermath of modernity.
Note that well: we have not even gotten past the second page of the foreword and it is already clear that postmodernism--which is, to judge from what Mr. McLaren says in his introduction, part and parcel of his thinking--is critical of certain, objective, and universal knowledge.

Now, you can't be a reg'lar ol' ignernt redneck like yours truly and just let that pass. It's a bad thing to suppose your knowledge to be certain and objective and universal, eh? So I suppose that would also apply to that statement, wouldn't it, Professor? It would therefore, wouldn't it, be impossible not only for me to be certain of what you have said, impossible for me to have arrived at my interpretation of what you have said without bringing my biases into it, it would be impossible for you to know for certain what you have said or to have said it without bringing your biases into it. Under such circumstances, it's no wonder that you doubt the universality of knowledge--we can't possibly, under any circumstances, have any idea what you are really saying! Not even you can! In a situation like that, you really have to wonder why you bothered to finish writing the foreword; your attempts at communicating much of anything are, by your own presuppositions, pretty much doomed from the get-go. The only thing I can think is that you somehow have arrived at the conclusion that only your own writings are capable of being understood by all your readers--and you; that they--and you--can be certain of what you mean; and that their--and your--understanding is untainted by personal foibles and biases. It is either the one or the other, you cannot have it both ways here: either what you have written is incomprehensible to anyone on the planet, including yourself, or your writings stand alone amongst those of all mankind in being universally understandable, with a certain, objective meaning! It makes one wonder how you managed to pass your drivers' license examination; the very thought of you successfully determining the rules of the road from an objective source, knowing them well enough to pass the test, and then testing your knowledge every day on the way to and from work, subject all the while to an objective standard enforced by policemen who universally know the law, boggles the mind.

And how about this, from the same page:
...it is important to remember that postmodern theory does not support the rejection of rationality but rather supports rethinking rationality in the wake of modernity. This rethinking has resulted not in irrationality, as is often claimed by less informed critics of postmodern thought, but rather in numerous redescriptions and proposals concerning the understanding of rationality and knowledge.
Now, again: I am not a particularly educated man. I admit this. But how educated do you have to be to see and understand that what the professor has just said, more or less, is: We don't reject "rationality." We just want to redefine it, so that it doesn't mean what you have grown accustomed to having it mean, but we still want to use the word, even though by it, we don't mean anything like what you mean. As a matter of fact, we're not sure what it means! But at any rate, don't accuse us of rejecting rationality, even though we completely reject the definition you use.

And with just what do the good professor and his colleagues propose to "re-think" rationality? Is it going to be the old rationality? One would think not--its adequacy is suspect, or it wouldn't be being re-thought. Is it going to be the new rationality? How? No one knows yet what it might be like; it is still under discussion, discussion that has no way of determining if its results are valid. Indeed, it seems to be a pre-ordained result of the discussion that no one will know for certain whether the results are valid! What you really have, then, is not so much the re-thinking of the way we think as it is the search for a way to validate the a priori assumption that certainty and objectivity and universally valid thinking and knowledge are impossible--yet in the act of attempting to demonstrate any conclusions on the matter, the professor must refute himself! Here he is immediately up against the old problem people who embrace mysticism have always been up against: in order to critique rationality, logical thought, you have to use it, leading immediately to a flat-out contradiction. Or you have to just toss out a flat denial of reason's validity without substantiating your argument. Of course, mystics have never been terribly troubled by flat-out contradictions in their thinking anyway. They seem to regard them as a mark of intellectual sophistication.

And, of course, having re-thought--my goodness, it's a gutsy move to start writing a foreword or a book (anything, really) dealing with valid forms of thought and knowing before you, personally, have settled on what is and isn't rational--and still re-thinking rationality, because you don't like the sort of knowledge embraced and implied by the old kind of rationality, it's fairly implicit that your critics are, by your new anti-standards, irrational. So, right there, on page 10, I'm already saying, as Mr. Boortz says from time to time, "Thanks a pantload!"

Is it going too far to say that Mr. McLaren sees having certainty in what one believes to be dangerous, possibly even evil? I don't know for sure, but comments like this:
p.194 There was a strange confidence and certainty that Calvin's system gave his followers, and that confident certainty, while comforting and productive, also proved dangerous at times. It allowed Calvin himself to oversee the execution of fellow Christians for disagreeing with his system...
would make it hard to blame a person for thinking so. There was more to this paragraph, and to say that I thought it was one-sided is an understatement.

One chapter in particular--chapter 0--struck me as being an extended exercise in preselecting one's audience. One reason after another is offered why one should not buy the book, probably leaving, in the end, only people who are inclined to agree, or are perhaps not too discriminating, or are reading it for some other reason (like writing a review). It was hard for me to reach the end of that chapter without thinking that Mr. McLaren had done his best to eliminate criticism by discouraging people who don't share his thinking from buying the book. For example:
Speaking of smoke, this book suggests that relativists are right
in their denunciation of absolutism. It also affirms that absolutists are right in their denunciation of relativism. And then it suggests that they are both wrong because the answer lies beyond both absolutism and relativism. I'll bet that sounds like nonsense to nine of 10 readers, which should bring the words store credit to mind.
And it would have, as statements like this strike me as indicative of the sort of false profundity that, on having said that something simultaneously is and is not, congratulates itself on its sophistication and separation from the rubes. But I didn't buy the book, I borrowed it from the library for the specific purpose of reading and reviewing it.

With Mr. McLaren, as with so many others, I repeatedly find myself thinking, "Where the mess have you been going to church? It ain't no place I recognize." When he talks about evangelicals and conservative protestants, I don't see the people that I've gone to church with for years (at least not for the most part); when he talks about the "Jesuses he has known," I'm not sure that the people in the pews would recognize the Jesus he describes. Maybe he's had consistently rotten luck with the churches he's attended; some people seem to have the gift of "rotten church luck." I believe that what Mr. McLaren says about fundamentalists, evangelicals, and conservative protestants falls far short of the truth in many respects. His descriptions of fundamentalist beliefs seem reminiscent of the description a person might give of karate had he seen only white, orange, green, and purple belts performing it: yes, technically it's "karate," but as Bilbo said to Smaug, "Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality." For example, I have never heard anyone "bottom-line" Christianity to being in or out of Hell, as though Francis Crick had made no contributions to the state of mankind despite his current course directly toward Hell. Rather, I've heard it preached--to use a fairly popular way of putting it--that if the point of Christianity were only to get a person into Heaven, the instant a person was saved, God'd kill him. The point is to become like Christ. How many times have I heard it preached that it is the doers of the Word, not merely the hearers, who are blessed? In another spot, he characterizes fundamentalists as quibbling pointlessly over the meaning of love God and love thy neighbor, specifically asking "Which God?" and refusing to be satisfied with the answer "whichever one Jesus was referring to," and asking "Who is my neighbor?" Now, I can readily imagine a fundamentalist asking which God it is that is under discussion and not taking some contentless claptrap--perhaps Jesus was referring to Allah? to Brahman? Who knows? Knowledge, after all, is uncertain, subjective, and particular to the person doing the knowing!--for an answer. But I cannot imagine very many but the new and untaught asking "Who is my neighbor?" They all know that story and its point. Perhaps it was the particular church that he was raised in that gave Mr. McLaren his painfully limited view stilted view of fundamentalists; perhaps he simply cannot see what I see so clearly; perhaps he does not want to see; I do not know.

You find the usual objection to sola scriptura, that God is the ultimate authority, not the Bible. I always find this objection completely vacuous; of course God is the ultimate authority; that is why what He says is ultimately authoritative. If you want to tell me that God is your ultimate authority, the first thing through my mind is always, "Fine, I understand that; what has He been telling you? By what means has He been telling it to you? By Urim and Thummim, perhaps? If you have definitive communication from God Himself to the effect that something He has said in the Bible is no longer binding or useful, is there some reason you wouldn't go public with your claim that God has, through you his prophet, said something different? If what He has said to you isn't different from what is in the Bible, exactly what is your issue?"

If the communication you've received from God agrees with the Bible, or if you're saying that what you're hearing from God isn't authoritative for faith and practice, I have a hard time understanding exactly what your issue with sola scriptura is; if what you say you've heard from God disagrees with the Bible, then what this ignernt ol' redneck needs from you is not some pious-sounding pronouncement that God is your ultimate authority, but some reason I should believe that what you are saying is theopneustos, God-breathed, communication from God on the level of scripture. If you can't provide such a reason, my suggestion is that you put a sock in it before you make more of a fool of yourself than you already have. It sounds like you are trying to pass off the opinions of men as authoritative communication from God.

And, of course, you find another common objection: the Bible is narrative, the history of what God has done in the world and through his people, and it is wrong to try to draw strong doctrinal positions from it; the story of what the right thing to do during the invasion of Canaan does not necessarily reveal moral truth for today. One cannot overlook that by extension, this reasoning would provide one of the ever-popular "outs" for those who would legitimize homosexual behavior in the Church; that is, the story of what Hebrew society--or the Apostle Paul--considered wrong millennia ago would not necessarily imply that all homosexual behavior would be wrong today. To say otherwise would be to ignorantly treat the Bible as a "rule book." The only reason that I do not say that homosexuality is why the whole subject of the Bible as "narrative" is brought up is that it would be putting words in the mouth of Mr. McLaren and his acolytes; they do not (usually) say explicitly that their concern is to allow practicing homosexuals to remain in good standing--perhaps even a bishopric?--in the Church. But it does seem to me that their concerns, when they bring up the "rule book" line of argument are always sexism, racism, and homophobia--especially homophobia. Personally, I do not think the "rule book" stuff would ever be brought up were it not for their concern with these subjects.

I always find the "narrative argument" vacuous, because it seems so clear that it is merely a pretext for justifying homosexual behavior within the Church, and the same people who make this objection--and Mr. McLaren is not the exception!--don't let it stop them from drawing doctrinal positions from scripture. For example (more could easily have been provided):
I am here to be their neighbor according to the teaching of my Lord...
Which he knows how?
...and if I am not a good one, my Lord says they have no reason to believe or even respect my message.
and because while a good deal of the Bible is narrative, a good deal of it is also direct doctrinal exposition, a good deal of it poetic, etc. It is oversimplifying matters considerably--I am tempted to say "conveniently"--to--ahem(!)--reductionistically approach the Bible solely as narrative. It seems to me that this issue is only raised when some objected-to Biblical teaching needs to be explained away.

Mr. McLaren seems to have a lot of problems with Hell. He says, in a footnote, that it is an important subject and has a place of importance in Christian theology, but he will not take--at least explicitly--a position on whether only believers in Christ stay out of it, whether everyone stays out of it, or whether believers and some others stay out of it. His position seems to be that who is in and who is out of Hell is God's business, and that we are supposed to serve and just not worry about it. While I appreciate his concern that Christians serve, I cannot help but think that his--I cannot think of another way to put this--lack of concern over Hell is very helpful, either to those who have friends, relatives, or loved ones (or who are concerned about people they haven't even met) they are concerned about, or to those who might be in danger of hellfire. I can't help but wonder what Mr. McLaren would tell the mother who is dreadfully concerned that her unbelieving, middle-aged son and his wife and children might wind up in the lake of fire; would he tell her not to worry about whether they believed in Jesus as savior or not, as long as she served them? What kind of service would that be?

I said that he will not take an explicit position on who (if anybody) winds up in Hell; I do think that his silence on the subject speaks--nay, sings--volumes, but without hitting the notes he thinks it does.

More in the way of odds-n-ends:
From this viewpoint "getting it right" (the message and the methodology, that is) is beside the point; the point is "being and doing good" as followers of Jesus in our unique time and place, fitting in with the ongoing story of God's saving love for planet Earth.
If "being and doing good" is the point, do you not wish to communicate this? What is something you wish to communicate, if not a message? If not getting the message and methodology right is beside the point, it surely follows that in this case, "being and doing good" are of no great importance. If this conclusion is unacceptable, it seems to me that the premise--"getting it right" is beside the point--must be rejected.
While some Protestants seem to let Jesus be Savior, but promote Paul to lord and teacher, Anabaptists have always interpreted Paul through Jesus, and not the reverse. For them the Sermon on the Mount and the other words of Jesus represent the greatest treasure in the world. Jesus' teachings have been their standard. And although they have failed in living them--as we all have--at least they've let their failure be obvious by letting the message of Christ dwell richly in their hearts.
This "Paul vs. Jesus" thing is recurrent through much of modern Christianity, and it appears that Mr. McLaren is not immune in imagining that the man Jesus said was his chosen instrument for taking his message (not that it was important to "get it right," apparently) to the gentiles actually taught something of which Jesus did not approve. Or so it appears to me.
By the way, even though I could have parenthetically referenced I Corinthians 8:1-3 or 13:1-4 to validate the previous points, I did not. I assume that thoughtful and noble readers will want to test what I say in reference to the Scriptures rather than me trying to save them the time and effort of doing so through the time-honored practice of proof-texting (Acts 17:11).
And of course, should these thoughtful, noble readers find that the Scriptures indicate that Mr. McLaren is in error, and should they attempt to cite those Scriptures, what will they be accused of? Proof-texting, more than likely. This seems little but an attempt to rule Scriptural citations "out of bounds" when attempting to critique Mr. McLaren's thinking.
This isn't to say that doctrine doesn't matter--not at all! Let me go on record as saying that I believe sound doctrine is very, very, very important...
And yet, given his fundamental approach to knowledge--that is, one critical of certain, objective, and universal knowledge--what does it mean for Mr. McLaren to say that doctrine is very important? How can he know it? How can someone else know what he knows? Mr. McLaren would have us follow the example of Jesus--which would, of course, if were possible to be known, constitute doctrine in action, but there is no way, operating with his premises, for that example to be objectively, universally, and certainly known.

This section, toward the end of the book, seemed to sum up the material as well as anything could:
But please understand: that's not what I'm talking about, not at all! I know it might appear to be so because I and others, while we aren't "for" pluralistic relativism, do see it as a kind of needed chemotherapy. We see modernity with its absolutisms and colonialism and totalitarianisms as a kind of static dream, a desire to abide in timeless abstractions and extract humanity from the ongoing flow of history and emergence, a naive hope to make now the end of history (which actually sounds either like a kind of death wish or millennialism).

In Christian theology, this anti-emergent thinking is expressed in systematic theologies that claim (overtly, covertly, or unconsciously) to have final orthodoxy nailed down, freeze-dried, and shrink-wrapped forever.

Emergent Christians (post-liberal, post-conservative) see pluralistic relativism as a dangerous treatment for Stage 4 absolutist/colonial/totalitarian modernity (to use language from cancer diagnosis), something that saves a life by nearly killing it. It's dangerous medicine--but stagnancy, getting stuck too long in the cocoon, is dangerous too. (As in any good story, all of our choices run between Scylla and Charybdis, between dangers to the left and right.)

Again, I understand why people often accuse me (and others on this emergent path) of pluralistic relativism. If you hold to a modern, exclusivist, absolutist, colonial version of Christianity, anything not "us" seems to be "them."

But please, ask yourself: is it possible that there is a way of seeing and being that is beyond modern exclusivism/absolutism and beyond pluralistic relativism? Could there be an approach that avoids stagnant, modern fundamentalism and narcissistic boomeritis? Is it possible that modern, exclusivist, absolutist Christians are right--pluralistic relativism is dangerous? But is it possible that the way ahead is not to stop short of a pluralistic phase, but rather to go through it and pass beyond it, emerging into something beyond and better? Do you see why words like postmodern, post-liberal, and post-conservative keep coming up--why the word beyond is so prevalent these days?

In this chapter I am trying (with Ken Wilber's help) to make clear that I believe there is something above and beyond the current alternatives of modern fundamentalism/absolutism and pluralistic relativism. I know this is so hard to envision because I struggled to envision this myself for about 10 years and have only begun in the last few years to see it, and even now, only faintly. This "above and beyond" is, I believe, the way of Jesus, which is the way of love and the way of embrace.
I thought that was an important passage; a few things just leaped out at me, things that I believe are reinforced in other passages throughout the book. For instance, if a systematic theology covertly or unconsciously claimed to have final orthodoxy nailed down, how would he know that it did so, if knowledge is not certain, objective, and universal? Wouldn't it be possible for that systematic theology to be true in the cultural context of the theologian's faith community and his own personal context? Another thing: it seems to me that "...its absolutisms and colonialism and totalitarianisms..." is kind of strong language to use for the idea that there is truth that is true regardless of what I or my faith community thinks of it, that it can be communicated and known to be the same truth by more than one person. A person who holds that idea is necessarily colonial? Totalitarian? Again, thanks a pantload. Another thing: here we are, pretty much at the end of the book, and Mr. McLaren's summed-up position appears to be: there's gotta be something better than this, but he doesn't know (How can he? Again, knowledge is not certain, not objective, not universal...) what it is, what it might look like, how it might work. It is something that after many years of work he sees only faintly and cannot really describe, but asks us to believe that it is the way of Jesus, love, and embrace--by which a person might conclude that all the stuff that isn't included in that faintly-seen vision isn't the way of Jesus, love, and embrace. It frankly doesn't seem a very loving and embracing position to me, but then, Mr. McLaren probably didn't mean it the way it sounded.

And, too, it can't be ignored that Mr. McLaren's "way ahead" that is somehow "beyond and better" than "modern exclusivism/absolutism" and "pluralistic relativism" is nothing more than common "third way-ism," which has been common currency among statists of varying stripes for quite some time. They are perpetually looking for something "beyond" capitalism and socialism, for example. But somehow, it always seems that their "third way" turns out to be nothing more than socialism--again. You can find an excellent discussion of third way-ism in Jonah Goldberg's excellent Liberal Fascism.

Ultimately, gentle readers, the book struck me: as a great number of statements, few of which are clear--that, perhaps, on purpose--most or all of them yielding less than friendly interpretations that leave the Emergent Conversation/Church/Movement/Thingie perpetually defending this gentleman by saying, "You just don't understand what he meant." There is more, so much more, that I would like to comment extensively on. Mr. McLaren's incredibly one-sided and/or outrageously skewed views of Reformed theology, for example. After reading this
Whether it's God who makes us puppets, or whether it is genes, physics, socioeconomics, or psychosexual aggression, it doesn't matter much to me. I have little time for determinism. If it's true, then I can't help but not believe it, because after all, I have no choice. (And if you believe it, ditto.)

Again I think Calvin's actual interest in determinism is overrated; he wasn't creating it but rather was reflecting a widely held belief that went back at least to Augustine. But after Calvin's death, I think a terrible convergence occurred, something like the Perfect Storm, when the massive low-pressure system of theistic determinism (Calvin-the-next generation via Beza and Co.) synergized withthe strengthening hurricane of mechanical determinism (Sir Isaac Newton) and then drew strength from the high-pressure system of rationalistic philosophy (Descartes and others). The perfect storm produced a whole new landscape where mechanisms were seen as the ultimate reality, and where God was promoted to chief engineer, controlling the whole machine. I do not believe in this modern mechanistic God or this closed, mechanistic universe.

I do not believe that this universe is a movie that's already "in the can," having been "produced and shot" already in God's mind, leaving us with the illusion that it's all real and actually happening. I find it hard to imagine worshiping or loving a deterministic, machine-operator God.
one can more readily understand how it is that it seems that the Emergent Conversation/Church/Movement/Thingie's most persistent critics tend to come from the Reformed wing of the Church--and I also took it as a tacit admission that Mr. McLaren subscribes to Open Theism.

As I said earlier, the book is really begging for a detailed, almost line-by-line dissection. Unfortunately, I just ain't got the time.