My latest: reviews of Andrew Wilson and Fred Sanders

This morning The Hedgehog Review published my review essay of Andrew Wilson’s new book Remaking the World: How 1776 Created the Post-Christian West. Here’s an excerpt:

Two big ideas define the book. The first is that the year 1776 explains, or contains in nuce, every major feature of the modern world as we know it. The second is Wilson’s expansion of Harvard anthropologist Joseph Henrich’s label for Westerners: not just WEIRD but WEIRDER. The acronym stands for Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic, Ex-Christian, and Romantic. These are the seven facets that define the unique, historically contingent character of “Western” societies today (Wilson does not like the W-word; he either avoids it, puts it in scare quotes, or replaces it with WEIRDER). Most of the book consists of recounting how each of these traits appeared, took hold, or otherwise began to be disseminated in and around the year 1776.

The story that unfolds is wonderful to read. Wilson has a light touch and an enviable ability to interweave telling vignettes with major events and countless names, dates, and locations without overwhelming the reader. More than two-thirds of the book is straight narrative. Commentary is present throughout, but Wilson clearly wants the work to be accessible to lay readers; his primary audience is not scholars.

Read the rest here. The book is not just great; it’s good fun, at times a rip-roaring yarn. Pick up a copy!

In addition, the academic journal Pro Ecclesia has just published my review of Fred Sanders’ book (not his latest, since just this month he’s published a new one!) Foundation of Salvation: Trinity and Soteriology, which came out about two years ago. Here’s an excerpt:

This is a marvelous work of sober scholarship by one of our leading theologians on the central Christian doctrine. It is systematic theology par excellence: a paradigm of the discipline by a thinker and writer at the peak of his powers. It is, moreover, one more fusillade in the ongoing counterattack by defenders of classic trinitarian doctrine against those would renew, by radically revising, that same doctrine. Following Scott Swain—and in line with John Webster, Lewis Ayres, Michel Barnes, Kathryn Tanner, Bruce Marshall, Karen Kilby, Matthew Levering, and many others—Sanders suggests that “the modern revival of interest in the doctrine of the Trinity” is a kind of renewal without retrieval (p. 184). Phrased more sharply, it is reclamation by erasure, inasmuch as the doctrine is redefined so profoundly that few of the doctrine's ancient architects, patrons, or custodians would recognize it, much less affirm it.

If, in other words, the writings and epigones of Barth and Rahner, Moltmann and Pannenberg, Jenson and LaCugna were once in the ascendant, it would seem that time is past. The upshot is not that this shift, if it is a shift, means the right side has won. But it does mean that those who saw the sheer fact of innovation as itself a sign of abiding vitality were wrong, as in the unfortunate confident tones of James Morris Whiton as he approached the turn of the twentieth century: “Doubtless, many will move on into the larger Trinitarianism which modern thinking requires. But quite as many will stay within the narrower lines of the past … [Nevertheless t]here is too much of the Holy Spirit now in the church to permit the new Trinitarianism to be again excommunicated by the old” (quoted on p. 194). In a candid aside, Sanders calls this way of thinking “a constant harassment by bright new ideas, and a relentless production of new schemas by which to distinguish the latest trinitarianism from the errors that have gone before.” The effect is ironic, given that the stated aim of so many revisers has been to serve the unity and mission of the contemporary church: “the doctrine of the Trinity itself has begun to seem unstable and indeterminate for several generations of theology students and church leaders” (p. 194).

Read the rest here. Another great book by another great scholar. More, please!

“The slow death of the Protestant churches”

Fifteen years ago, in a journal article on Karl Barth’s christology and Chalcedonian doctrine (among other things), Bruce McCormack concluded his article with the following paragraph (my emphasis):

It remains only to say a word about the situation—and the motives which have led me to elaborate precisely this form of Christology in the present moment. The situation in which Christian theology is done in the United States today is shaped most dramatically by the slow death of the Protestant churches. I have heard it said—and I have no reason to question it—that if current rates of decline in membership continue, all that will be left by mid-century will be Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and non-denominational evangelical churches (the last named of which will include those denominations, like the Southern Baptists, which are non-confessional in doctrinal matters and congregationalist in their polity). The churches of the Reformation will have passed from the scene—and with their demise, there will be no obvious institutional bearers of the message of the Reformation. What all of this means in practice is that it will become more and more necessary, for the sake of the future of Christianity, to establish stronger ecumenical relations with the Catholics and the Orthodox. And that means, too, coming to agreements with churches supportive of the classical two-natures scheme in Christology. The question is not, it seems to me, whether the two-natures doctrine has a future. That much seems to have already been decided. The only real question is what form(s) it can take. So it is for the sake of an improved understanding of the potential contained in the two-natures doctrine that I offer my ‘Reformed’ version of kenoticism.

To magisterial Protestant ears, that prediction must sound dire indeed. Dire or no, it seems on the nose to me. In my next book I lay out a threefold typology of the church for heuristic purposes: catholic (=Eastern, Roman, Anglican), reformed (=magisterial Protestant), and baptist (=low-church, congregationalist, non-confessional, believers baptism, etc.). What’s astonishing is simultaneously how much “the reformed” dominate Anglophone theology across the last 200 years and yet how institutionally and demographically invisible actual reformed churches are today, certainly on the North American scene. To the extent that that already-invisible presence is continuing to shrink, it is not unreasonable to suppose that it will continue to dwindle to statistical insignificance. That doesn’t mean there won’t be Lutherans or Calvinists in America four decades from now. But it may mean that they have little to no institutional form or heft—at least one that anybody is aware of who doesn’t already live inside one of their few remaining micro-bubbles.

To be clear, I don’t mean these words as a happy prophecy, dancing on the grave before the body’s interred. Some of my best friends are magisterial Protestants. (Hey oh.) And I wish those friends every success in their ongoing efforts to revivify the American Protestant community. History isn’t written until after the fact; perhaps McCormack and the rest of us naysayers will be proven wrong.

The lines aren’t trending in the direction of renewal, though. So it’s worth reflecting on what the future of American Christianity looks like: either catholic or baptist, which is to say, either “high” (liturgical, sacramental, episcopal, conciliar, creedal, etc.) or “low” (non-creedal, non-confessional, non-sacramental, non-denominational, non-doctrinal, in short, biblicist evangelicalism). To my inexpert eyes, that also seems to be the global choice, not least if you include charismatic traditions under the “low” or “free” category.

The question then is: Do the latter communities have what it takes to weather the storm? Do they, that is, have the resources, the roots, the wherewithal to sojourn, unbending and unbent, in the wilderness that awaits? As Stanley Hauerwas once remarked, the evangelicals have two things in spades: Jesus and energy. What more do they have?

Fred Sanders, in a blog post commenting on McCormack’s programmatic prediction at the time of its publication, thinks evangelicals are possessed of that “more,” or at least are possessed of the relevant potential for the right kind of “more.” He runs a thought experiment, thinking “back” from the perch of 2047 when the dire prophecies of the death of American Protestantism have come to fruition. He writes:

It’s 2047: Bruce McCormack is just over 100 years old and is trying to figure out where to go to church. He’s not picky, he just wants a place that teaches justification by faith and sola scriptura. There are no mainline Protestant churches to choose from, no “obvious institutional bearers of the message of the Reformation.” Everywhere he goes, there are non-denominational evangelicals, and Roman Catholics, and the Orthodox. Who’s got the Reformation theology, where can I go to get it?

Jumping back to 2006, and back to my own evangelical (just barely denominational) context, I can see the advantages of doing what McCormack ’06 recommends: “for the sake of the future of Christianity, to establish stronger ecumenical relations with the Catholics and the Orthodox.” But as an evangelical theologian committed to the theology of the Reformation, I think my more pressing task is to work for a clearer theological witness in evangelical congregations and institutions. I think it’s possible for evangelicalism to function as a much more “obvious institutional bearer of the message of the Reformation.” Indeed, with the mainline keeling over and dropping the Protestant baton, the people most likely to pick it up are people like my people, or maybe Pentecostals in the developing world. Everything hinges on greater theological sophistication and stronger commitment to doctrines like sola scriptura and justification. I actually wonder why McCormack pointed instead to Roman Catholic and Orthodox dialogue partners. Probably it’s because his speech was about reinvigorating traditional Chalcedonian christology, and he (rightly) thinks he’s more likely to find conversation partners about that among Catholics than among evangelicals.

To evangelical theologians (Baptists, non-denominationals, etc.) I would take a hint from McCormack and say: The baton is being dropped, the mainline churches are going down. Study harder, learn the great tradition of Christian doctrine (from the Catholics and Orthodox perhaps), and keep your hands ready to take up the baton of Protestant teaching. Plan for mid-century, when there will be a crying need for an “obvious institutional bearer of the theology of the Reformation.”

That is laudable and wise advice. I do wonder: After what has happened in and to American evangelicalism in the last 15 years, what, if anything, would Sanders (or his Protestant comrades in arms) say about the prospects of such a vision? Can evangelicalism as it stands be reformed—that is, converted to the confessions and doctrines of the magisterial Reformation—from within? Is the rot not yet too deep? Is the form of evangelicalism—that is, its bone-deep opposition to extra-biblical doctrinal formulations and practices, to formal institutional organization and authorities, to anything that might mitigate the frontier revivalist spirit—open to the sheer degree of ecclesial, liturgical, and theological change that would be required to conform to actual magisterial teaching and practice?

My questions are leading, and in the extreme. Granted. I’m open to being wrong. Ratzinger’s oft-quoted words from half a century ago, about the church shrinking in size and prestige but becoming purer and more faithful as a result, may well apply to the churches of the Reformation as much as to Rome. Nor do the trend lines mean anything, literally anything, with respect to whether or not Christians who find themselves in true-blue Protestant churches ought to seek to be faithful as best they can in the time and place in which God has placed them. Obviously they should.

But at the macro level, looking at the big picture, I can’t escape the sense that McCormack is right, and hence that in the coming decades the ecclesiological choice we face, and our children face, will be between two options, not three. If true, that makes a big difference—for church conversations, for theological arguments, for political debates. We ought therefore to face it head on, with courage, clarity, and honesty, and most of all without pretense. Collective denial is not going to make the present crisis disappear. Let’s be thinking and talking now about what it is the times, which is to say the Holy Spirit, requires of us. Let’s not wake up in 2047 and realize we missed our only opportunity to avert disaster.