Book Review: Hays and Ansberry, Evangelical Faith and the Challenge of Historical Criticism

Christopher M. Hays and Christopher B. Ansberry, Evangelical Faith and the Challenge of Historical Criticism (London: SPCK, 2013). (Amazon.com)

61BmG9PYZmL._SY300_[Let me begin this review with three preliminary notes: First, this will be a longer, more thorough review, so if you want the gist of the matter I recommend skipping the “Summary of the Contents” section. That said, I ask that you refrain from being too critical of this review or the book being reviewed if you choose to do this. Second, I understand that reading a long review like this one may be tiresome to do online, so I have provided it as a PDF here. Third, I will continue my blog sabbatical until July 1st, but I did feel obligated to review this book now, because I was active in requesting a copy for review, and I will be out-of-town for over a month, so it was more expedient to post a review earlier than later. Also, please pardon me if I do not reply to comments until next month.]

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Christopher M. Hays and Christopher B. Ansberry have edited a volume that needed to be written. I don’t know that I have said that of any other book that I have reviewed. This observation is subjective, of course, but I presume that there are many evangelicals who will agree as this book gains a larger audience. Why would I say this? Evangelicalism may not be fundamentalism, but it is closely related. In recent years evangelicals have realized that we have two options as concerns our posture toward historical-critical scholarship of the Bible: (1) remain in an intellectual ghetto of our own creation, following the example of fundamentalists who engage critical scholarship for apologetical purposes and nothing more or (2) participate in “faithful criticism” while maintaining a “critical faith” as this volume promotes. There are evangelicals who can attest to reading the Bible as Scripture—an authoritative guide for Christian thought and practice that we’d consider to be the very “word of God”—who simultaneously sense the need to engage critical scholarship, not as opponents, but as participants.

Many evangelicals will argue that this is impossible. Personally (if I may), this is not an acceptable answer. For some evangelicals the concerns raised by critical scholarship are concerns we share. In other words, yes, it is possible to be an evangelical who is skeptical of attempts to reconcile the evolutionary paradigm of human origins with the narrative of Genesis 1-3. There are those of us who do not feel obligated to defend the historicity of the Great Flood if there is no geological evidence for it. This is not mere compromise, as if these concerns arise from a misguided desire to be accepted by the broader culture, but rather our own study, our own exegesis, led us to realize that ignoring the tensions (contradictions?) of the Bible is intellectually dishonest. Rather that retreat from the findings of critical scholarship many evangelicals have determined that their own calling to worship the Christian God with all our “heart…soul…strength…mind” means honestly studying the evidence while leaving open the possibility that our previous understanding of how the Bible can be true, or how the Bible can be Scripture, needs to be tested and rethought.

If you are an evangelical who holds in tension both a profound respect for the Bible as authoritative Scripture, and a sincere conviction that historical-critical scholarship appears to have exposed some of our presuppositions about the Bible as unsustainable, then this is a book you will want to read.

Message of the Book:

Evangelical Faith and the Challenge of Historical Criticism is a book written by evangelical scholars who assume that historical criticism has something to offer evangelicals, which can enhance our understanding of the Bible, while realizing the epistemological limitations to historical critical methodology. In other words, the contributors may or may not affirm the “consensus” of academia, but their engagement with critical scholarship remains open to the possibility (likelihood) that critical scholarship may force Christians to rethink their presuppositions. Many of the chapters use a paradigm that does not argue for or against the consensus, but rather asks what it might mean if the insights of critical scholarship are accurate, what would this mean for evangelicals and our doctrines? This is a key point. This book is neither a full embrace of critical scholarship (in fact, often, the authors do a fair job of masking their own views) nor an apologetical attack of critical scholarship in defense of how evangelicals have traditionally understood various doctrines (the major exception in this volume is the resurrection of Jesus).

 

Summary of the Contents:

In Chapter 1 (Toward a faithful criticism) Christopher Hays writes, “This is a book about historical criticism. This is not a book about inerrancy.”[1] While this book does have implications for one’s doctrine of Scripture it is not primarily about whether or not one should use words like “inerrancy,” “infallibility,” or something else. Rather, the writers of this book assume that historical criticism has something to offer readers of the Bible, period: even confessional, Christian readers, no matter what word is used to explain their views.

Hays discusses how evangelicals have reacted to historical criticism over the years, including splitting from mainline seminaries or secular universities to form their own more conservative institutions. Now, ironically, many who are graduating from these schools sense the need to engage historical criticism, sometimes embracing the findings of scholarship. There are theological implications to this shift. Does engagement with historical critical scholarship lead to heresy, or at least heterodoxy? Maybe, but it may be as equally possible that the evangelical doctrine of Scripture has defended a bibliology that is unnecessary, so that some evangelicals who should be able to comfortably address historical critical scholarship flinch from doing so not because it would be a disservice to the Bible itself, but because it would be viewed with scorn by fellow evangelicals. This book aims to remedy that: “As evangelicals we believe that there needs to be space for an approach to Scripture that is historical critical.”[2]

Hays doesn’t deny that historical criticism “does have its dark side,” nor does he embrace historical criticism as “value-neutral,” but rather he recognizes “…the growing chorus calling evangelicals to engage in an intellectually honest and academically rigorous wrestling match with Scripture in all its troublesome particularity.”[3] Likewise, Hays realizes the danger of embracing historical criticism just as it becomes other than vogue, but he doesn’t foresee this happened. Even as scholarship recognizes other hermeneutical approaches (e.g., post-colonial, ecological, queer, theological), and the historical critical approach looses its “hegemony,” it is unlikely that the method will be abandoned.[4] Some have been “tempted to forge uneasy alliances with postmodern rejections or critiques of Modernism,” to escape the reign of the historical critical approach, but this doesn’t rescue Scripture, per se. Rather, it introduces a new set of problems.

Evangelicals are asked in this chapter to avoid fight and flight. Instead, evangelicals ought to participate, honestly, asking ourselves what historical critical studies has to offer us. Hays provides some history regarding the relationship between evangelicalism and historical critical scholarship. Then he seeks to define evangelicalism (following Timothy Larsen) so that his presuppositions regarding the identity of the movement are easily understood. This is followed by the outlining of the procedure used by the contributors as well as a summary of the forthcoming content.

Chapter 2 (Adam and the Fall) by Hays and Stephen Lane Herring addresses the topic from an angle that may be familiar to those who have read Peter Enns’ The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say About Human Origins. The chapter begins with a summary of scholarship on the Pentateuch (e.g., JEDP) beginning with H.B. Witter’s observations concerning Genesis 1:1-2:4a and 2:4b-3:24, through Julius Wellhausen’s influential theories, on to the aftermath of these debates. The authors briefly compare and contrast Genesis with other Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) stories of origins, asking how shared mythology and the compositional nature of the Pentateuch may impact our understanding of important doctrines. Hamartiology functions as the case study as the authors asks whether our new understanding of Genesis—if critical scholarship is embraced—significantly alters our understanding of sin (and therefore, soteriology). This study includes a survey of how early Judaism understood sin, and Adam’s role, then moves to Paul, specifically Romans 5. The authors conclude that Paul, like his contemporaries, taught “…people deserve death because of their own sin.”[5] This interpretation may not sit well with some Reformed and Baptist evangelicals, but others should find a familiar argument.

Two final questions are asked: “Are we obliged to believe in a historical Adam because Paul believed in a historical Adam?” and “Does Paul’s argument in Romans 5 fall apart if there were no Adam and no original sin?” The authors exemplify how we often affirm the argument of biblical writers, even when we don’t share their presuppositions. Likewise, as should be expected, no, the authors do not find that Paul’s argument is dependent upon a historical Adam. In order to better establish a “biblical” hamartiology the authors juxtapose Romans 5 with James 1:13-15 showing how individual responsibility matters, and asking how this might assist in our understanding of why Paul uses Adam in his argument as he does. Finally, the authors engage in the exercise of historical theology. Most of this discussion evaluates Augustine’s contribution to our idea of “original sin,” while also tapping into the eastern (Orthodox) tradition to ask if original sin has always been a central tenant of Christian doctrine.

Chapter 3 (The exodus: fact, fiction, or both?) by Christopher B. Ansberry is dedicated to the exploration of the role of the exodus in Christian doctrine and whether it can withstand historical criticism. Ansberry provides an insightful discussion into the differences between “maximalist” and “minimalist” historians, evaluating what members of these schools of thought think about the Bible as a source for history. It is in engagement with these two paradigms that he examines the evidence (or lack thereof) for the exodus. Ansberry concludes that something like the exodus is essential for Christian doctrine, though that doesn’t demand that we uncritically embrace the narrative wholesale, nor does it mean we should pretend to have evidence for the event that we do not have. In summary, he writes, “The historicity of the exodus from Egypt in some form is foundational to Israel’s identity, her relationship with God and future hope. Nonetheless, we must recognize that direct historical evidence for the exodus does not exist and that the precise historical minutiae of the event will likely not materialize in our lifetime.”[6]

Chapter 4 (No covenant before the exile? The Deuteronomic Torah and Israel’s covenant theology) by Ansberry and Jerry Hwang addresses the concerning matter that the covenant of Deuteronomy appears to be an exilic or post-exilic creation. The authors summarize the scholarship that has been done on Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic authors. This includes the arguments for a pre-exilic creation during the reforms of Hezekiah or Josiah and that for an exilic or post-exilic creation. Then the authors explore the compositional history of the document. The important question is how these insights impact our theological understanding of Deuteronomy.

The second half of this chapter may be the most helpful in the book. The authors discuss authorship and the nature of authorship in the ancient world juxtaposing it with how we moderns understand authors. There is a difference between Moses as author and a Mosaic tradition. The question is whether a Mosaic tradition as the root of Deuteronomy’s composition is sufficient theologically, which the authors affirm that it is. Much of what is said in this chapter is quite relevant for discussions regarding the voice of the historical Jesus and the voice of Jesus as relayed by the Evangelists in the Gospels. This chapter ends with a provocative and exciting series of proposals regarding the role of Moses, later authors, and the Holy Spirit in creating an authoritative document.

The most paradigm-shifting chapter in the entire book must be Chapter 5 (Problems with prophecy) by Hays, Amber Warhurst, and Seth B. Tarrer. These authors tackle (what appears to be) failed prophecies in Scripture, asking whether or not our understanding of “fulfillment” is accurate. They propose that the goal of prophecy is not merely prediction and exact fulfillment. One perfect example is the Book of Jonah where the only prophecy is that of Nineveh’s destruction, yet the narrative shows that God works to show mercy and grace, which is the real goal of the prophecy. Jonah knows this, which is why he tries to flee from God. The authors provide the reader with very insightful, challenging arguments for prophecy being reevaluated in light of (1) God’s freedom and (2) human response.

This is not the end of the discussion though. Vaticinium ex eventu or “prophecy after the fact” is very troublesome for many evangelicals. The best example is Daniel 7-12, which is presented as predictive, but which most scholars understand to be retrospective. The authors explore this genre’s function in the ANE, and whether we should question our assumptions about these sorts of prophecies rather than denying that they come after the events.

Also of importance is what the authors call “deferral of prophetic fulfillment,” where a prophecy such as Jesus’ return in Matthew 16 and Mark 13 appears to have been incorrect. A case study is presented on how Jeremiah’s “seventy years of exile” prophecy is reinterpreted in Chronicles, Zechariah, Ezra-Nehemiah, and Daniel. This model is then used in comparison with 2 Peter to ask if the canonical message shows us that prophecy is contingent upon human response, i.e., prophecy may be understood as implicitly stating “if x then y will happen, but if not x then y will not happen.” In the case of Jesus’ return, as 2 Peter proposes, the problem is repentance has not happened as it ought, therefore, God mercifully delays the parousia.

Chapter 6 (Pseudepigraphy and canon) by Ansberry, Casey A. Strine, Edward W. Klink III, and David Lincicum, addresses whether or not pseudepigraphy is acceptable for a canonized, authoritative document. There is more discussion of the Pentateuch and the Moses tradition, but in addition the authors explore the Book of Isaiah (Isaiah, Second Isaiah, Third Isaiah) and whether one can honor and stand within the prophetic tradition by expanding and continuing the writing of their document (Moses and Isaiah). This study has implications for how New Testament authors quote and reshape Old Testamant texts. Similarly, the authors examine how the anonymous Gospel of John should be understood when we consider the history of authorial identity related to this document (apostle John? John the elder? a Johannine community?).

Of course, it is one thing to expand the authorial tradition of someone like Moses or Isaiah and something else to write in the name of Paul or Peter, when the author(s) is not Paul or Peter, not expanding something written by Paul or Peter (which may or may not be true of the epistles of Paul and Peter with questionable authenticity). The end of this chapter summarizes Pauline scholarship on Paul’s epistles. Then the different understandings of pseudepigraphy are presented; namely, as (1) an accepted literary convention or (2) a “philosophical school” of thought where students continue a teacher’s legacy or (3) an intentional deception (or even a so-called “noble lie”). The Pastoral Epistles are evaluated through these prisms allowing the reader to think through the implications.

Chapter 7 (The historical Jesus) by Hays and Michael J. Darling addresses four important matters: (1) Jesus’ self-presentation/self-understanding; (2) Jesus’ miracles; (3) the virgin birth; and (4) the resurrection. The reader is introduced to the robust conversations that have taken place during the First, Second, and Third Quest for the Historical Jesus. Did Jesus think of himself as Messiah? Did Jesus understand himself to be divine? The authors present us with the various positions that have been taken on this matter over the years.

Jesus’ miracles seem beyond the realm of historical criticism, since historical criticism embraces naturalistic methodology, and one principle is that of analogy, which many scholars argue makes embracing miracles unlikely (though others, and Craig Keener comes to mind, argue that we do have examples of miracles today, therefore our principle of analogy is sufficed). The virgin birth and the resurrection are “big miracles” if you will, so they receive attention individually. As one might imagine, there are those who deny these events outright, those who are more or less agnostic, and those who find good reason to affirm the historicity of the virgin birth and/or the resurrection. One area where the authors of this chapter find little wiggle-room for an alternative understanding of tradition is the resurrection, which is presented as the central doctrine of Christianity.

Chapter 8 (The Paul of Acts and the Paul of the epistles) by Aaron J. Kuecker and Kelly D. Liebengood evaluates the claim that the Paul we find in Paul’s epistles (especially the undisputed ones) and Luke’s depiction of Paul in Acts are incompatible. The chapter begins with a case study between Galatians 2 and Acts 15/11:27-30, 12:25. While it may or may not matter whether one can reconcile the chronology we find in Galatians 2 with that of Acts it does seem to matter whether Paul’s theology in his epistles matches the theology of the Lukan Paul.

Kuecker and Liebengood choose three scholars who have different views on this matter: Phillip Vielhauer, Peter Borgen, and Brevard Childs. Vielhauer argues that Luke’s Paul is different than the Paul of Paul’s epistles. Borgen presents the two as far more complimentary. Childs addresses this topic from a completely different angle: the canonical critical approach, i.e., allowing the documents to be in dialogue based on their final canonized placement rather than their historical agendas. The authors of this chapter then evaluate the theological implications of embracing the views of one of these three scholars before providing some of their own insights into the challenge of comparing Paul’s occasional letters to Luke’s historiography as well as the possible role of canon formation in our historical investigation.

In the final chapter, Chapter 9 (Faithful criticism and a critical faith) Ansberry and Hays make a final pitch for a robust evangelical engagement with historical critical study of the Bible. The authors remind us that historical criticism is not going to disappear, so it must be engaged. Likewise, it is not evil, but a tool that can be used to the benefit of the church. The authors claim, “This book does not doubt that historical criticism can be dangerous…But fundamentalist obscurantism can also imperil the faithful.” Or, with more detail:

Far too many have been taught to understand the Bible in modern terms removed by millennia from the ancient cultures that composed the sacred texts. In this way, Christian doctrine has been pitted against science, archaeology and ancient history. Under such sad conditions, people’s faith can be snatched and devoured by evolutionary biology, by the Epic of Gilgamesh, by vaticinium ex eventu, by an archaeological record lacking evidence of a million-man-march from Egypt, or by a Gospel Synopsis that shows divergent details in the Evangelist’s depictions of Christ. Sure, atheistic critical scholarship is dangerous, but so is benighted pietism.”[7]

The authors call upon conservative seminaries to “cease their embargo on historical criticism,” arguing that the attitude of these seminaries “…pens up a great multitude of Christian biblical scholars whose voices and expertise could help change the landscape of historical criticism, could back down specious iconoclasm and could answer the occasionally snide and condescending censures of the Church’s opponents with wise and rigorous truth.”[8] The remainder of the chapter explores how historical critical studies may benefit the church and her theology in the future.

Each chapter includes a list of several books recommending further reading on the topic addressed. The end of the book includes an extensive bibliography. Finally, there is an index of ancient texts.

 

Concluding Thoughts:

Some of these chapters offer what many evangelicals may interpret to be more radical solutions, e.g., the chapter on Adam and the Fall or the chapter on prophecy. Other chapters may not be as rattling, like the chapter on Paul of the epistles and the Paul of Acts. What all these chapters have in common is the desire to engage historical critical studies, participate in the scholarship, yet show that evangelicals need not do so from a purely apologetical posture, nor worry that their findings will spell doom for their Christian faith.

I began this review with the claim that this is a book that needed to be written. I believe that many who read this book will agree. You may find that this book “concedes more ground” to liberal Protestant and non-Christian thinking than you’d like to see. You may find that some sections are “begging the question,” sometimes choosing to draw the line in a way that may seem arbitrary or oddly convenient (e.g., the exodus and the resurrection of Jesus are presented as too important to rethink radically). Nevertheless, both readers who are more conservative than the contributors of this volume, and even those who are more “liberal,” may find (should find) that this book is a solid, worthy engagement with some serious topics, especially considering the forthright presuppositions presented by the editors and authors.

I wish this volume had existed when I began my graduate studies in a conservative evangelical seminary several years ago. I received a great education, but often I felt intimidated in expressing my doubts about how the Bible was being presented at various points. Instead of fully embracing the approach of my professors, or allowing my doubts to consume me, I decided to study the topic in my own spare time. I remain grateful to confessing scholars like Peter Enns whose Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament and N.T. Wright whose The Last Word: Beyond the Bible Wars to a New Understanding of the Authority of Scripture (now titled Scripture and the Authority of God: How to Read the Bible Today) allowed me to reconcile my Christian faith with a deep need to address some of my concerns about the nature of the Bible. If a book like Evangelical Faith and the Challenge of Historical Criticism had existed back then it would have saved me much anxiety as well! This is the sort of book that I’d recommend even conservative evangelicals read, and conservative evangelical educators recommend to their students, unless one thinks that people who do not agree with their bibliology have compromised beyond what should be allowable.

If I were to teach a class on hermeneutics in an evangelical seminary or college this is a book I’d consider making required reading. Why? Even if one does not affirm the conclusions of the contributors to this volume, and even if one does not think their investigations yield fruit worth personally consuming, I can guarantee that one will have students who do wrestle with these matters. To force those students to embrace one’s view, or to hide alternative approaches from those students, seems to me to be bad pedagogy, if not ethically concerning. Evangelical academics must recognize their dual role as educators and pastors. A book like this offers both a solidly academic read as well as a pastorally sensitive approach to many of the problems that arise when reading the Bible.

Now, again, I am aware that there will be evangelicals who dislike the idea of trying to reconcile the Bible as authoritative Scripture with the Bible as a collection of situated historical documents like other situated historical documents. This is understandable, but it is important to recognize something to which I alluded above: there will be evangelicals who cannot swallow the apologetic responses to historical criticism of the Bible. If evangelicals determine that those with doubts and questions must either be socially excommunicated or beaten into conformity, then evangelicalism will loose many good, sincere Christians who confess the central tenants of Christianity, but who cannot embrace a “perfect Bible” as we sometimes understand perfection. I appeal to those evangelicals to recognize that there is room in our tent for those who affirm inerrancy to the extreme of verbal plenary inspiration as well as those who may understand the inspiration of Scripture to allow for historical inaccuracies, some forms of mythopoeic language, and so forth.

This book was received in exchange for a review courtesy of SPCK. Bloggers at NearEmmaus.com are under no obligation to provide positive reviews.


[1] 1

[2] 6

[3] 7-8

[4] 11

[5] 38

[6] 72

[7] 205

[8] 206

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Review of Amos Yong’s, Spirit of Love: A Trinitarian Theology of Grace (Pt. 2)

Spirit of LoveIn three posts I will review Amos Yong’s recent piece, Spirit of Love: a Trinitarian Theology of Grace. For the first review, click here.  I received this book as a review copy from Baylor University Press. Many thanks to all of you over there! 

In part two, it seems that Yong develops a distinct hermeneutical lens by weaving together early Pentecostalism, contemporary Pentecostal theology, and the Pentecostal canon-within-the-Canon, Luke-Acts. 

Chapter Four is entitled, “Spirit-Empowered Transformation: Pentecostal Praxis and the Energy of Love.”[1] In this chapter, Yong explores early Pentecostalism and Spirit Baptism. He makes the case that early Pentecostals believed Spirit baptism to be a baptism in the divine love of God.[2] In the early Pentecostal communities, this experience of the Spirit resulted in racial reconciliatory dynamics – in the wake of the Jim Crow era – and an emphasis on non-violent resistance.

hot springs arkansas AG

First General Council of the A/G – Hot Springs, Arkansas

In this chapter, Yong notes that the Assemblies of God (the largest Classical Pentecostal denomination, in which Yong is a minister) has traditionally understood Baptism in the Holy Spirit to be an empowerment for witness, not a baptism in love, nor a crisis experience where dramatic sanctification of the affections occurs (contra COG/COGIC). Interestingly, Yong notes that the Assemblies of God, the group which did/does not officially believe baptism in the Spirit to be a baptism in the love of God, fell into racism and faltered on their commitment to non-violent resistence (circa 1967). While the Assemblies of God was the primary white Pentecostal group (see the Hot Springs Arkansas picture picture – not one African American is in this photo), they largely revised their position on this matter with the rise of the Civil Rights movement in the 1950′s. Yong’s strives to show that Classical Pentecostal groups which understood and continue to understand Spirit baptism to be a baptism in divine love have largely and prophetically maintained their emphasis on racial reconciliation against the cultural opinion of the day (COG and COGIC)[3] and that COGIC has maintained their commitment to non-violent resistance.[4]

Chapter Five is entitled “The Spirit’s Baptism of Love.”[5] Yong now introduces the work of contemporary Pentecostal theologians and reveals how they have contributed to a theology of love. Yong engages the work of three theologians, Steven J. Land, Samuel D. Solivan, and Frank D. Macchia. Yong explicates on the affective theology of Land, showing that power apart from a transformation of pathos “run[s] the risk of becoming a ‘sound brass and a tinkling cymbal’.”[6] After this, he explores the work of Latin American theologian, Samuel Solivan, showing that the Spirit orients the pathos toward the suffering of particular people groups.[7] He lastly surveys the work of Macchia on Spirit Baptism, and his belief that creation is moving towards a Spirit baptized reality.

Chapter Six is entitled “The Spirit Poured Out on All Flesh.”[8] Yong strays from the either-or dichotomy presented by Pentecostal biblical scholars, Roger Stronstad and Robert Menzies (See The Charismatic Theology of St. Luke and Empowered for Witness). Stronstad and Menzies have long contended that Luke in Acts articulates a theology of Spirit baptism that results only in powerful procalamation of the Gospel by word and sign. Yong would take the position that Luke understands baptism in the Spirit not only to be a baptism for the purpose of powerful proclamation, but also a baptism in divine love of God.

The book of Acts barely – if it all – makes mention of love explicitly. Because of this, Yong contends that Luke gives meaning to the Acts narrative from his previous writing to Theophilus, G. Luke. He believes that Luke roots the descent of the Spirit on those at Pentecost, in the event of the Dove’s descent at Jesus’ baptism. According to Yong, an expression of the Father’s love for the Son is revealed in the giving of the Spirit:[9] “You are my Son, whom I love;” (Lk. 3.22). Thus, the descent of the Spirit at Pentecost represents not only empowerment for ministry (which the Spirit was empowerment for Jesus’ ministry in G. Luke), but also a sign of the Father’s love. To show the result of this experience of divine love within the early church, Yong fixes his attention on Acts 2:42-47, showing that a result of Spirit baptism was divine koinonia. He contends that “a gracious God forms a gracious—a grace-filled—community, and that because of the divine gift of the Spirit of love.”[10]

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[1] Amos Yong, Spirit of Love: a Trinitarian Theology of Grace (Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press, 2012), 59.

[2] Ibid., 60-64.

[3] Ibid., 66-68.

[4] Ibid., 70-72.

[5] Ibid., 75.

[6] Ibid., 79.

[7] Ibid., 81.

[8] Ibid., 93.

[9] Ibid., 100.

[10] Ibid., 98.

Introducing Jason Brueckner

I am not ending my blog sabbatical, but I do have an announcement to make for readers of this blog. We will be partnering with Jason Brueckner of Brave Reviews to add (you guessed it!) more book reviews. Our arrangement will allow visitors of this blog to read a 200-300 word teaser here with a link to the full review at Brave Reviews. While Brave Reviews includes a wide array of reviews, such a devotional books and practical ministry books, the book reviews previewed here will be those relevant to this blog, which means biblical literature, Christian theology, and closely related topics.

Here is the biography we will include for Jason on out About page:

Jason received a MA in Biblical Exegesis from Wheaton Graduate School and a dual-degreed BA in Bible & Theology and Youth & Sports Ministries from Malone University. By day, he works part-time as a Starbucks barista, instructs ministry courses at Malone University, and is the Young Adult Ministries Director at MissionView Church. By night, he is the avid reader who both created and oversees Brave Reviews, a website dedicated to providing unbiased reviews of contemporary Christian reads.
You can connect with him on Facebook or Twitter.

Review of Amos Yong’s, Spirit of Love: A Trinitarian Theology of Grace

In three posts I will review Amos Yong’s recent piece, Spirit of Love: a Trinitarian Theology of Grace.  I received this book as a review copy from Baylor University Press. Many thanks to all of you over there! 

Introduction: 

Spirit of Love

Amos Yong’s book is divided into three parts: 1) God is Love: The Theology and Science of Love, 2) God is Spirt: Pentecostalism, The Spirit’s Gifts, and the Resources of Love, and 3) God is Spirit, God is Love: The Gift of the Spirit and the Gift of Love. I will write a review on each part and will include concluding thoughts in the last post. I want to note that these reviews will not be exhaustive, but will highlight only some of the content. If you want to purchase this book (which I recommend you do), click here.

Part One

            In part one, Yong explores the theology and science of love. The point of this section is to see what prominent theologians and scientists (hard and soft scientists) have said about love. Much of what he surveys he uses for the development of a Pentecostal theology of love. For the purposes of this review, it is pertinent to note that Yong’s defines love as the “affective disposition toward an intentional activity that benefits others.”[1]

Chapter one is titled, “The Spirit of Charity: Toward a Theology of Love.” Yong discusses the work of three former and prominent theologians. The first of these is Augustine, the second is Thomas Aquinas, and the third is Paul Tillich. In the beginning of this chapter, Yong asserts that Augustine, Aquinas, and Tillich can, with warrant, be labeled “pneumatologian[s] of love.”[2] Yong contends that for each of these theologians, pneumatology and love go hand-in-hand; he writes, “in each case, theology of love has been intimately connected with theology of the Spirit (pneumatology).” After a review of each ‘pneumatologian of love’, Yong slightly critiques the work of each theologian.

Yong surveys Augustine’s De Trinitate and homilies on 1 John. He makes note of Augustine’s belief that the gift of the Spirit is the gift of divine love.[3] He writes, “God’s love is given through God’s gift of the Spirit—no other than divinity itself.”[4]

After Augustine, he shifts to Aquinas. Yong shows that Aquinas – similar to Augustine – affirms that, “Love is a proper name of the Holy Spirit and that Gift is also a personal and proper name of the Spirit.”[5] He examines Aquinas’ belief that humans are graced “in the love of the Spirit as creatures made in the image of God.”[6] Albeit initially graced, human beings are “potentially open to being gradually caught up by the Spirit into the divine love and, if responsive to the specifically theological graces of the Spirit, are also enabled to enjoy the ultimate happiness that brings.”[7]

Lastly, Yong brings Tillich into conversation. Tillich understood God as the ground of all being and the power of the Spiritual presence.[8] Yong explicates on Tillich by remarking, “love is the power of the New Being and of the Spiritual Presence at work in overcoming the alienation that marks finite existence among human creatures, so that the unambiguous life can be realized.”[9]

While Yong demurs with each of these at different points, Yong agrees with them on the belief that the Spirit and theology of love are closely connected.

Chapter two is titled, “Science and the Altruistic Spirit: Empirical Understandings of Benevolent Love.”[10] In this chapter, Yong begins with soft science (sociology) and then moves to the hard sciences. Yong reviews, and will later build off the groundbreaking work of the late Pitirim Aleksandrovich Sorokin. Sorokin did his Ph.D in sociology at the University of St. Petersburg and thereafter taught at the University of Minnesota and Harvard.[11] Sorokin’s work in sociology focused on love within human-to-human and human-to-divine relationships. For Sorokin, “on the social plane love is a meaningful interaction—or relationship—between two or more persons where the aspirations and aims of one person are shared and helped in their realization by other persons.”[12] He found that “the intensity and duration of love were dependent on an ‘inflow of love from outside the loving individual that replenishes his great expenditures of intense love energy.’”[13] Basically, in order to give love, one must have a source – other than oneself – where one receives love. Interestingly enough, Sorokin argued that some humans did not have an inflow from other humans. Sorokin believed that some humans, while despised by other humans, nevertheless act in altruistic ways. Who or what was their source of love? According to Sorokin, their source of love would be best identified as a deity or the soul of the universe.[14] Sorokin notes that such people were “Jesus, Al Hallaj, Damien the Leper, or Gandhi.” Sorokin further believed that if one could show universal altruism – altruism towards people or groups outside their own tribe – then this could “undermine the human tendency to hostility, violence, and war.”[15]

Subsequent to Sorokin, Yong wades through the thicket of biological studies on altruism, addressing the work of Richard Dawkins, Matt Ridley, and Jeffrey Schloss.[16] He lastly surveys what neuroscience is saying about altruism.[17]

Chapter Three is titled “What’s Love Got to Do with It?”[18] In this chapter, Yong discusses the notion of Pentecostal power  and love within the Classical Pentecostal denomination, the Assemblies of God. The Assemblies of God has primarily understood baptism in the Holy Spirit to  be for the purposes of power and proclamation.[19]

While I think this is evident in Luke/Acts, still a question must be asked: if the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of love, then shouldn’t we also see talk about love flowing from peoples who claim to be immersed or “baptized” in the Spirit? Yong argues that while there isn’t as much talk about love as a direct result of Spirit baptism (at least in the AG – this isn’t the case with the Church of God or Church of God in Christ), love and benevolence still results from such experience. In order to exemplify this, he introduces us to the groundbreaking research that resulted from the Godly Love project (initiated by Matthew T. Lee). To my knowledge, the Godly Love project was significantly influenced by Sorokin’s work. If, as Sorokin would say, people act lovingly as the result of an inflow of love – Divine or human – then this should be measurable in the lives of people who claim to experience God’s love. In order to show this, Yong draws upon the work of sociologist Margaret Poloma. Poloma’s research has been a part of the Godly Love project. In her project on the Assemblies of God she has revealed that, “glossolalics, more than nonglossolalics, were more likely ‘to report feeling God’s love as the greatest power of the universe.’”[20] She further shows that religious experience positively influences one’s actions towards congregational benevolence.[21] Yong writes, “the following thesis appears to have sociological validation: ‘Central to the revitalizing process is Godly Love, a dynamic that is rooted in perceived experiences of the divine that deepen a person’s love for God and in turn empowers acts of benevolence.”[22]  Thus, there seems to be a direct link between experience of the Spirit within Pentecostal congregations and benevolence.

If God is love and acts benevolently, should experience of this God result in benevolent action? What do you think? How should this affect our understanding of experience? 


[1] Amos Yong, Spirit of Love: a Trinitarian Theology of Grace (Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press, 2012), preface xi.

[2] Ibid., 3.

[3] Ibid., 8.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 9.

[6] Ibid., 13.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid., 17.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid., 21.

[11] Ibid., 23

[12] Ibid., 24

[13] Ibid.

[14] Ibid., 25.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid., 27-31.

[17] Ibid., 31-36.

[18] Ibid., 39.

[19] Ibid., 40-42.

[20] Ibid., 48.

[21] Ibid., 50.

[22] Ibid.

 

Blog sabbatical

I’ve been blogging since 2006 (actually, I began in 2005, but then stopped) and I don’t think I’ve taken an extended sabbatical from blogging since I began. I am taking one now. As I mentioned this morning (see Re-imagining blogging: some proposals) I have realized recently that I haven’t enjoyed blogging lately. I’ve been asking myself whether or not it remains the useful online community hub which I have envisioned or if it has become a habit that is neither a discipline, nor a source of enjoyment, but an expectation or an obligation. I sense it has become the latter.

Now, I intend to resume blogging on July 1st. This is not my resignation from blogging. Also, I suspect that my co-bloggers will continue to post at their own convenience, so there should be content available.

I have a book to finish before August 1st and I begin my doctoral work in September. This is reason enough to avoid blogging for a month! While I am on sabbath I will revisit the purpose of this blog and how I use it. Some people mentioned to me today that the content of this blog has changed drastically over the last couple years, becoming more academic, less “earthy,” and I need to determine whether or not this is how it ought to be. Also, I need to ask myself whether this blog is part of my learning experience as a student in the same way it has been over the years. I’ve been challenged by others to use my time doing other things than blogging. I understand the sentiment, but blogging has been a means of processing thoughts in previous years, and if it remains such a tool then I think it should remain part of the education. If not, then I need to rethink some things!

One final word: I imagine that some people may think that this morning’s post is about them. It isn’t; it’s about me. Now, there have been commenters and there may be commenters always who are more frustrating than engaging. I imagine that blogging is not worth the time and energy if one hopes to avoid all of the challenges related to the anonymity of the blogosphere! That said, I’ve noticed that I am less patient, which means I am more needy, which signifies to me that blogging has become more burdensome than energizing, so I should rest from it for a few weeks.

Re-imagining blogging: some proposals

This week I realized that (1) I don’t enjoy blogging right now, but (2) I think the online community it could create remains valuable. What has changed? Honestly, I have struggled to adjust to the anonymity of the blogosphere (although I’ve been blogging since 2006). I prefer knowing the person with whom I am in dialogue. Also, blog interactions are transient:  dialogue partners come and go, so it is difficult to build relationship and repertoire with people. All it takes is one troll, or one overly agressive personality (including my own as the blogger), and suddenly people don’t want to visit your blog anymore, or at least not interactively.

I am caught betwixt two ideals: (1) consistent interactions with a circle of people thinking through similar matters and (2) avoiding the “us-four-and-no-more” mentality that would make some people feel uncomfortable discussing the topics being addressed on the blog.

How does a blogger balance the need for consistent, familiar dialogue partners alongside the desire to be inviting to new acquaintances?

I’ve seen people try alternate options such as Google + and Facebook groups, but those are more chaotic than blogs! I think The Boar’s Head Tavern has the right idea, in part. Since 2002 it has been a blog that anyone can visit, but it thrives as a network of dialogue partners who contribute to the ongoing discussion. Two negatives: (1) no comments, which doesn’t interest me and (2) it seems chaotic too, like a Twitter chat, or Facebook discussion.

Last night my church community had a despedida for a friend who is moving to North Carolina. As we sat around talking I realized that there is something special about common, familiar dialogue partners. Often, the viciousness of Internet debate (in which I have participated) derives from the basic reality that we humans do not respect avatars of people as much as real flesh-and-blood people. We will say things via text to a picture of someone that we’d be hesitant to say to them in person. I have made friends over the Internet, via the blogosphere, but I don’t think virtual relationships are as healthy as those where you have met someone in person.

Sadly, here in San Antonio, I haven’t developed a circle of friends with whom I can meet once a week or every other week. The older you get (more responsibilities), and the more suburban your community, the harder it is to develop a group like this anyway. Online community remains a real and necessary supplement to the transient, suburban world in which many of us live. But how can it be better? How can we re-imagine blogging?

Here are some proposals:

- What if a blog has four or five contributors, each committed to writing once a week?

- What is each week had a central topic and each Sunday one of the five (in rotating order) chose the topic of the week?

- On Sunday the person decides s/he wants to discuss “The Law of Moses in the Gospel of Matthew” and then Monday through Saturday the other three or four bloggers must write posts in response to that topic. When it is Sunday again, the next person chooses the topic of the week, and the cycle resumes.

- In order to prevent chaos the blog should have a theme of sorts: biblical literature and history, Christian theology, etc. If the group allows for topics to be too open ended then it will be hard to readers to know whether or not they’d like to follow the blog and it would be hard for the other bloggers to commit to writing a response each week if there is a chance that the person who chooses the topic may choose something like “Socrates and Sustainable Eating Habits” when the other contributors know nothing or little of Socrates and/or sustainable eating habits.

- Comments would be allowed, but the discussion wouldn’t be dependent upon whether or not people comment. In other words, good comments might be an extra bonus, but bad, or feisty, or or domineering comments/commenters won’t derail the conversation either. The person who writes on Sunday knows that s/he will have three or four solid interactions from three or four trusted dialogue partners. Good, quality comments will enhance the discussion. Irrelevant, conversation altering, person agenda pushing comments can be ignored (i.e., less pressure to entertain troll types because the sustainability of the blog doesn’t demand putting up with those who lack courtesy when commenting).

This seems to me to help solve a few problems: (1) one blogger feeling responsible for writing several times a week; (2) a blogger feeling discouraged if there are no comments or only a few comments; (3) the lack of community and familiar dialogue partners that makes blogging less enjoyable than it ought to be; (4) a blog addressing so many topics that readers don’t know what to expect; (5) trolling or aggressive commenters hogging the scene, making others feel uncomfortable, or getting undeserved attention from a blogger who responds because no one else is commenting; (6) the danger of an exclusive, closed blog where commenters have no means of interacting with the bloggers.

Thoughts? Proposals? 

__________

FWIW: I am not planning on scrapping NearEmmaus.com, but I do need to think through whether or not it is benefitting me as it once did.

Iraq and the Jewish people, the judgement on Adam, God’s agenda, Neo-Anabaptist, etc!

Here is some reading to take you into the weekend:

- Lawrence Shiffman has morphed a paper on the relationship between Iraq and the Jewish people into a series of blog posts. This is what is available thus far: An Ancient Relationship; The Era of the Kings in Israel; The Jews in Exile.

- Andrew Perriman examines how Adam was understood in the first century in Adam, original sin, and wrath against the Jew.

- Tim Gombis was interviewed about his contribution to Holy War in the Bible (IVP, 2013) and he reminds us that God is not bound to the agenda of any nation. Watch here.

- Joshua Brockway, Anabaptists are hip!

- Francesca Gino and Michael I. Norton, Why Rituals Work

- Edward Tenner, Why the Boomers are the Most Hated Generation

- Mysterious structure underneath the Sea of Galilee?