Justification by Tom Wright

N. T. Wright reserves his best wit and best arguments for when he is exasperated.  His book “Justification” is a rebuttal to a critique of his studies on Paul over the years, often called the “New Perspective on Paul.”  Although he specifically addresses John Piper’s critiques, his aim is to provide a counter argument to all his naysayers, most, apparently, coming from the reform theology camp.

These Reformers seem to be a grumpy group.  I’ve mentioned it before: a lot of reform theology is really good, foundational stuff (we're talking about Luther and Calvin for crying out loud!), and the passion behind it is commendable.  But, and it’s just my opinion, they seem to be a very angry lot, looking to pick a fight with those who seem to be a bit off kilter, away from what they believe, which, in recent years, is apparently pretty much everyone.

Presently, it would appear that they have in their sites biblical scholars who are parsing sentences, and digging up archaeological or historical tidbits, chewing on ancient languages and deciphering contexts. This is kind of ironic, in that all that hard exegetical work is something that I assume Reformers really value as important.

But it seems that when some of that digging around produces a fresh way to look at Scripture, a good exegete is not as important as long held traditional views.  Wright and others actually make this point in the book a few times:  How strange it is that it is the Reformers who are the ones holding on to tradition, even while arguing for being "people of the Book."

Piper critiques Wright’s Covenant Theology when it comes to describing what justification is all about.  Wright (and I realize it’s very dangerous trying to sum up the argument in a sentence), is suggesting that Christ—another word for Messiah—not just saves us from our sins, but reconstitutes the people of God, broadening what it means to be the people of God, and who that all includes.  Wright argues that righteousness in Paul’s passages on justification is not about our moral virtue (or Christ's), but about our new status that Christ brought about.

Piper doesn’t seem to like the direction this is going, suggesting that it is somehow removing the power or centrality of the cross and who Jesus is (aka, the Son of God, perfect, sinless, etc), and that Wright, in his emphasis on historical context and Paul's understanding of covenant, is moving beyond the biblical narrative.  (A strange critique, as I mentioned above, coming from someone who allows tradition to trump Word).

As an aside, reading about this tension between moral virtue and status reminded me of a friend who changed the lyrics of a popular song we sometimes sing in church.  For altar services, we often sing the song, "Holiness, Holiness", and one of the lines goes,  “Righteousness is what you want from me.”  My friend said, theologically speaking, we should be saying, “Righteousness is what you’ve given to me.”  It’s not about something that we earn or about our moral ethic, saying you want right living from me (as much as that statement taken by itself is true) but about our new identity as part of the family of God, evidence that God has kept the covenant that he had originally laid out in the Torah to Abraham and brought to completion in Christ.  I think he`s right, and I always make the change in my head when the song is sung.

Back to the book: Wright is just plain fun to read.  Even in the second half of the book where he slogs through verse after verse in Pauline Literature to make his case, his presentation and style is memorizing.  His chapter on Romans is particulalry fascinating, challenging, and encouraging.  He does come across a bit romper room-ish, meaning it seems like he’s trying to dumb down his concepts so that his "child-like" critics will understand him better.  This is a little patronizing, but good fun.  You get the sense that this is how the British have a debate.  The problem is, back here in North America, something may get lost in the translation.  I can feel a “harrumph!” coming when Wright’s detractors finish the book, whether they think he won the debate or not.  

Everybody wants to change the world

Well, at least we talk about it a lot.  I've found that because we are privy to so much information, it takes all of our time just to talk about changing the world.  I'm of course guilty as charged and I am in constant need of help in getting out of my over-interest in social justice issues.  Obviously we need to be informed, and knowledge is power, blah, blah, blah, but there is a smugness to knowing about issues that somehow speaks to your inner voice, saying, "well that's enough Jeff.  At least now you know.  Move on to something more interesting."

Smugness isn't the only problem.  The information we gather is often very convicting and after a careful study we often declare that "we must do something about this."

But what?  All of the creativity in the world can't seem to help us get to a starting point.  What used to be a common sense "just go out and help your fellow human" thingy is now a mind-boggling, kind of blurry thingy.

That's where Tony Campolo and Gordon Aeschliman come in.  

In their book, Everybody Wants to Change the World: Practical Ideas for Social Justice, they seem to recognize that there has been a lot of talk about making a difference in our world, but the action part has been a bit stunted.  The authors' challenge then: You want to change the world?  Here are a gazillion ideas for you.  Pick one and go for it. (I can actually picture Campolo rasping out those last 3 sentences on a stage at a youth convention somewhere, with his eyes closes and his hands flayling.  Absolutely poetic).

Okay, it's not quite a gazillion, more like around 90 or so, but they do cover a lot:  Poverty, Evangelism, The Environment, Prisoners, The Oppressed, The Elderly, The Sick and Disabled, Immigrants, along with ways in which to creatively communicate the needs in these areas.

Practical stuff, and outside of the "Get in the Way of War" idea, pretty easy suggestions.  (After reading that particular section, I envisioned millions of evangelical youth taking their spring break missions trip to stand on the front-lines of a war zone with merely a bullet-proof vest.  Parents with lawyers are simultaneously gathering at the church doors...)

Campolo and Aeschliman have a great discussion part in the back where you can chat more about doing stuff... hopefully it leads to doing stuff.

My only complaint is that the book is pulling off the modern day superstore strategy:  When I go and buy mustard, the amount of choices available disables my efficiency.  I stand in front of a particular aisle for far too long, looking at far too much mustard, and doubt creeps in to what should be a confident decision.  I need mustard for goodness sake! Similarly, after walking down the aisles of the book, you may find yourselve staring with glazed eyes at the products available to you, thinking that all you really wanted to do was change the world.  

Why couldn't that be more simple? 

The end of a resolution

Well, I have one day left to complete my 52 books in 52 weeks.  And I'm not going to get there.  I should make it to book 32 by the end of today, but I fell off my pace throughout the summer and never recovered.  However, the point of a resolution, in my mind, is to adopt a new habit, and I can say that my reading has definitely gone up a notch over the last 12 months (as an aside, my other resolution was to journal for a whole year.  Using penzu.com, I can say that I have successful developed a habit of journaling for the first time in my life!  Yippee!).  

My problem is that I'm a collector of books, meaning, I get more books than I read.  I made the resolution because I found myself using time wastefully, particularly in the evenings, time that could be used for reading.  If I could convert an hour or so a day of wasted time into reading time, I was convinced I could read a book a week--maybe more!  For my own sanity, I'm going to keep tallying my reads until I hit 52.  At my pace, I could be done by July some time...

The last 3 books I've read I'll just give a quick thought to:

I met Marva Dawn at Regent College.  I took a course of hers on worship.  She is a phenomenal woman; her many disabilities have not got in the way of her using her brilliant mind to teach, preach, and write.  Her book, "Joy in Your Weakness" was written to encourage all those who suffer.  The neat thing about the book was that she used the book of Revelation as her text.  More than a devotional, a bit less than a commentary, the book was a joy to read, and a fascinating look at Revelation.  Her theology is sharp, and her Christology is persuasive and appealing.  A great resource for discovering a fine theology on suffering as well as a clear approach to the last book of the Bible.

I've always appreciated books by Paul Stevens.  In his "The Equipper's Guide to Every-Member Ministry:  Eight Ways Ordinary People can do the Work of the Church," Stevens is again at his best, making room in our church culture for a theology that is accessible to the "people in the pew."  I find Stevens refreshingly clear, challenging, and sane.  His writings are always deeply theological, yet simple in their practicality.

Jim Belcher is someone who has been with both the emergent church crowd (he used to smoke cigars with Rob Bell -how emergent is that?) and with the traditional crowd.  In his book "Deep church" he attempts to deal with the tension between the two camps by suggesting an alternative.  Rather than the status quo and then a reaction to the status quo, why not develop a church culture that is deep, meaning, thoughtful in its approach in doing, well, pretty much everything?  It was actually one of the better reads for me in the whole dialogue on the emergent church.  This was a thoughtful book that wasn't casually written, and Belcher appears to be the right person to present an alternative.  (Books 29-31/52)

Public debate doesn't have to be scary

Any public discussion is a bit of a dance these days.  People seem to hold to positions that they feel very strong about but haven’t thought all the way through.  Our conversations at the local coffee shop range from “live and let live” on one hand, to platitudes and dogmatic statements on the other.  Due to the massive amount of information available to us, most of us know a little about a lot of things, but not enough to really engage a topic.  This doesn’t stop us of course, and like much of pop culture, we just drop statements here or there that sound very wise to us, but lack the necessary push back of a reflective pause from an alternate voice.

When we do hear an alternative perspective, it seems to me that most of us resort to one of two tactics: (1) we instantly back-track from our dogmatism, revealing that we’ve more bark than bite or (2) we get our back up against the wall and begin to fight.  And we fight, not through bringing in further, more compelling arguments, but bringing louder voices, re-stating our position with indignation, or better yet, resorting to name calling.

This tension doesn’t sit very well with most of us, so public discourse becomes a sort of elementary school sock hop: the music is playing, but all the participants have glued their backs to the security of the gym wall.  Chat with your neighbour about the song, or the cute girl on the other side of the room, but heaven forbid any kind of embrace.

Sure, there are always a few participants that ignore the shy crowd and find a partner, and there are some songs that, when played, the whole room starts hopping.  We do like to talk, and talking with others is less awkward than talking to ourselves, and inevitably, disagreements do take place—who is the best hockey player, how many people were actually at the party, etc.,--but the banter is warm and friendly (usually) and disagreements are done often with humour and a knowing look to put people at ease.

But there are some topics where, even amongst friends, the guard goes up, or the eyes glaze over, or the language gets tense, or dismissive, or disruptive.  I have found that the topic that creates these kinds of symptoms more than most is religion.

That’s where Paul Chamberlain comes in.  He argues that talking about religion doesn’t have to be the equivalent of talking about haemorrhoids over Christmas dinner.  In his book, “Talking about Good and Bad without getting Ugly: The Art of Moral Persuasion,” Chamberlain argues for a method of moral persuasion, suggesting not only a need for moral discussions and debates in our culture, but a need to have some ground rules for discussing and debating well.

Chamberlain reminds us that our culture is one in which technology evolves faster than ethics, and multiple messaging creates conflicting moral views and a dismissal of anything called truth.  But this doesn’t mean that we have to just sit back and allow these obstacles  to beat rationality into submission. 

He suggests that we have every right to question the invasion of technology, bring to light illogical opinions on important issues, and stand up for a tolerance that allows room for even dissenting voices. 

Specifically, Chamberlain suggests that we can argue that moral relativism is not as prevalent (or even as possible) as we may think.  When it comes down to it, everyone draws a moral line in the sand at some point. 

Further, he states that moral confusion “can’t go on forever.” Chamberlain uses the example of abortion rights coming in conflict with women’s rights when gender-selective abortion takes place.  How can one support abortion in full, he asks, yet fight for women’s rights at the same time?  The logic eventually reveals the inconsistencies. 

And finally, he reminds us that no one is unbiased; we all come from a particular worldview.

This “arguing”, of course, needs to be done with a great deal of common courtesy.  Chamberlain suggests this begins with being informed.  In public debates, make sure you have more than an opinion; back your argument up with data and facts.  Be willing to have information reciprocated.  Also, be prepared to have an answer when someone asks a question about what you believe.  Can you back up your perspective with a clear argument?  Any viewpoint can hold its own if it isn’t contested.  Know the opposing arguments to your viewpoint well.  Know your opponents too, where they are coming from, and what their worldview might be.

Chamberlain suggests that we can’t underestimate the power of humour in the discussion.  Laughter can ease many tensions, and winning an argument while losing a friend is no victory.  Realize that arguments have their limits, and that people are persuaded often slowly, over a long period of time.  That’s why I like the idea of a slow, simmering discussion over a weekly cup of coffee, allowing time to slowly work its way into disagreements.  This takes place all the time with such topics as sports and the weather, where two friends can agree to disagree while finding the journey of getting there something that grows their relationship.  A discussion on religion should be no different.  At the end of the day, a healthy debate where two willing participants respect the dignity of their unique voices is an act of preserving our humanity as it flourishes in community. 

(28 of 52)

A moment to remember how small we are

During this season of Advent, we remember once again the God of the universe and the brilliance of his incarnation.  I'm always blown away when I see the "insignificance" of earth visualized in front of me.  The questions rise: Who ARE we?  Why here?  Why now?  Why so placed?  Good questions to remind ourselves of how small we are.