I was reminded again this week that fighting 'heresy' is a delicate operation.
A number of years ago, I left the library at about the same time two days in a row and caught a few seconds of a radio preacher. The first day, he was ranting about the false teachings of "Sanders and Boyd." I turned the radio off. The second day, he was still going on about how wrong "Sanders and Boyd" were. Apparently, these two people were making some pretty big waves. I listened a little longer and came easily to the conclusion that I would find more to like about "Sanders and Boyd" than the one trying so hard to refute their views. A little research led to a more complete identification of John Sanders and Gregory Boyd, proponents of open theism. I bought and read The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence by John Sanders. Sanders' views fit well with my beliefs and the book was profitable. I wondered if I should write a thank you note to the radio preacher who introduced me to him.
A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a link to a website exposing the 'heresies' of the emerging church in America. Her son had the dubious honor of being noted as a student leader on this road to heresy. As I looked around the site, I found some of my favorite Christian writers highlighted, along with other names I had not previously encountered. I have left the site open in a browser tab and revisit it now and then. There is useful information there -- links to sites connected with the emerging church, spiritual formation, and contemplative prayer. I don't know of another place on the internet that does so well in pulling together such an attractive set of resources. Being well-practiced at overlooking offensive tirades from the established church, I'm not overly bothered by the negative words that surround these resources.
What is/are the person(s) behind the site thinking in presenting all of these open windows into the ways God is working in the 21st-century Church? Am I supposed to look at them and immediately agree that they must be of the devil? Is that an obvious conclusion to the site manager(s)? Is there any fear at all that visitors such as me will follow the links and embrace what they find rather than joining the "ain't-it-awful" crowd in rejecting them?
The book of Acts in the Bible contains the account of a zealous young Pharisee named Saul who witnessed the execution of Stephen, the first Christian martyr, and then went on to persecute the early church. In chapter 9, Saul is off to Damascus to round up followers of Jesus Christ in that city when he encounters a blinding light and a voice that says, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the pricks." (KJV memory version) There's a short conversation and then Saul gets up and becomes just as zealous for Christianity as he has been in opposing it. It strikes me that such a complete turn-around didn't start when that light flashed, that at some level Saul (later to become the apostle Paul) was already beginning to wonder if he might have it all wrong and be working against God rather than for Him. Perhaps part of his zeal was designed to squelch the doubts that had begun to nag at him.
I wonder about the person(s) behind the Lighthouse Trails Research blog. Are they so blind to the appeal of what they are presenting that they are confident that no readers will be drawn to it? Are they struggling to maintain their position of disdain while nagging doubts erode away their convictions? Alternatively, is the site maintained by someone only pretending to oppose this stuff and banking on the theory that there is no such thing as bad publicity? (I would seriously entertain this idea if honesty and transparency weren't a strong value among people embracing spiritual formation.)
Perhaps we should all stick to supporting the stuff we love rather than risk spreading the word about the stuff that strikes us as wrong-headed in our attempt to fight against it.
1 comment:
I have a couple of thoughts or speculations about the motivations behind the types of groups and people you mentioned.
The first has to do with reality, and our knowledge of it. I get the impression that from the traditional point of view, having a proper understanding of the nature of reality (most notably in this case the nature of God) is an incredibly high priority. The belief that all the rest of one's religious beliefs are actually accurate is a critical foundation; without that belief, the rest of one's religious beliefs become baseless.
And I also get the impression that to varying degrees within the modern movement, while this belief may still be held, it is receiving a lower priority. And pragmatic considerations are receiving a higher priority than they once may have received. To the point where in some cases, people's beliefs about reality may in fact be shaped by what they consider to be practical or useful, rather than the other way around.
For those within the traditional view, this reversal (or anything that even moves in this direction) is likely to be considered completely inappropriate. Reality is the way reality is; no amount of wishing it were otherwise can change it, regardless of the motivations of our wishes.
I can sympathize, since I more or less share this prioritization; a proper understanding of reality is paramount. Fortunately for those around me, I don't consider this a priority that people ought to have; I just personally hold such a priority, and can relate more easily to those who share it. A traditional religious context, however, provides a much more conducive environment for normative "we all ought to hold this view" type of thinking. Thus you find people criticizing others of heresy.
The second thought, which I stumbled upon while reading a bit about The God Who Risks, is that people within the traditional view might also be worried about something akin to human pride. Essentially, it might sound like theology is shifting in a direction that would make humans peers of God rather than subordinates. Taking a quote from the book, "God sovereignly wills to have human persons become collaborators with him in achieving the divine project of mutual relations of love." The word "collaborators" definitely implies a stronger sense of equality than it does subordination. To think that we reach such a level, or to even think that we could move in that direction, could to some be considered a great heresy. Perhaps even worse than atheism; at least the atheist doesn't believe that people are comparable to God in this way.
A bit of a positive spin, however, would be to make the analogy to parent-child relations. Eventually, the ideal outcome (at least to some) is that the children, once they mature and become adults themselves, should come to be treated as peers with their parents. The same is true with teacher-student relations, and probably plenty of other similar situations. And I know that this maturation process has been applied to theology as well, in that we could see humanity maturing over time, and thus humanity's relation to God also changing over time, moving in a direction away from subordination and toward "peerhood".
But at the same time, I'm also reminded of a sci-fi series Babylon 5, where there are two ancient alien races that have for the longest time been treated as divine by the younger alien races. Over the course of the series, though, it is revealed that all the younger races are capable of just as much as the older races, and that the older races aren't really any more mature than anyone else. Similarly, some might consider elements of the modern religious movement to be insulting to God, bringing him down to our level at the same time that we try to elevate our view of ourselves up to his.
I doubt for most people that these two lines of thought are explicit in their minds. Nonetheless, I have a suspicion that these are the sort of things that they intuitively sense in the modern movement, and to which they are intuitively compelled to aggressively react. Raising these possibilities might lead to some interesting an enlightening discussions for both sides, where people can not only learn about other people's views, but also come to understand their own views more thoroughly. Or maybe it'd just create more social division; I don't know. I can never decide whether to be an optimist or a cynic. But that's beside the point.
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