The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age by George A. Lindbeck

In a footnote to his book, Renewing the Center, Stanley Grenz suggests that the paradigm for doing theology in a postmodern context may be found in Wolfhart Pannenberg's Systematic Theology and George Lindbeck's The Nature of Doctrine. I loved Grenz's book, so I bought and read these other two when I finished it. Both were tough. Both were over my head. Both were good. (Pannenberg's Systematic Theology was the best systematic theology I have read.) As I "review" Lindbeck’s book, keep in mind that systematic theology is not my specialty and that I am probably not qualified to critique Lindbeck's thoughts. (But that's what blogs are about, right? They're commentary by the non-specialist.) :)

In The Nature of Doctrine, George Lindbeck seeks to describe a method for "doing theology" in a postliberal age. His primary concern is ecumenicism. Is there any way that competing faiths can have meaningful dialogue in a pluralistic culture? To find out, he describes and critiques three ways of "doing theology," the pre-modern propositional model, the modern experiential-expressive model, and his own postmodern cultural-linguistic model. After showing why he thinks that the cultural-linguistic model is superior, he then moves to test whether it is applicable to modern ecumenical discussions.

Lindbeck starts by defining the different methods of "doing theology" have developed over time. In the pre-modern period, doctrine was propositional in nature. Doctrines spoke of reality and were packaged in propositions. I don't need to rehash the collapse of this method.

The modern way of "doing theology" is the experiential-expressive model. In this model, there is one true religion of which all world religions are only a shadow. Thus, none of the religions are "true," but they all have some "truth" to them. They all essentially say the same thing, just in different ways. Thus, the "doctrines" of a particular religion don't describe reality, but the particular religion's experience of reality. The problem of this view is that all religions are not saying the same thing. Often they are saying very different things, even when they address similar topics. Lindbeck points out that just because two religions both talk about "God" doesn't mean that they are saying the same thing about God. After all, the fact that there is a word for "God" both in English and Chinese does not make those two languages the same. By claiming that all religions agree, the modernist liberal sets himself over all of the religions in judgment of them. This is inappropriate.

Lindbeck prefers a model he calls cultural-linguistic. In this model, religions are like languages and cultures. They are not absolute, and they are not all saying the same thing. Just like a language is guided by rules of grammar (rules that don't apply in other languages), so also religions are guided by their doctrines. Similarly, cultures have mores that shape their cultural identity, so also religions have their doctrines that shape their identities.

There are some strengths and weaknesses to Lindbeck's ideas. First, Lindbeck is right to point out that doctrines aren't important merely for their propositions, but for their role in the life of faith. The doctrine "Jesus is Lord" has no meaning unless it affects my life--unless I live like He is Lord. The doctrine of spiritual presence in communion has no meaning outside of the religious significance it has when I partake. Doctrines become meaningful when they affect spiritual practice. In that sense, they are more like rules than propositions.

Second, his theory fits the reality in which we find ourselves. In that sense--it's practical. In my circles, we tend to think of doctrine as propositions about reality. Where does that get us in a post-Christian culture? If I walk up to a guy on the street and say, "Jesus is Lord," he's not going to say, "Thank you for telling me, I'll start serving him right away." He'll probably say something like, "That's fine and nice for you, but I'm not interested in your Lord." The fact that our culture sees doctrines as rules for a particular community (thus, "that' fine and nice for you"), suggests that we should learn to do the same to communicate to them.

Interestingly enough, in the last few pages of the book, Lindbeck asks the question of how relevant his ideas are to faiths that see "evangelism" as a primary element of their faith. (These faiths believe that their "rules" are applicable to those outside of the faith.) He writes about the difference between the way the catholic church (the early church, not the Roman Catholic Church) approached the pagans and the way the Gnostics approached them. The Gnostics "changed the rules" to make them more appealing to their pagan neighbors. The catholic church continued to teach their rules to those who lived by other rules. Lindbeck writes:

"Pagan converts to the catholic mainstream did not, for the most part, first understand the faith and then decide to become Christians; rather, the process was reversed: they first decided and then they understood. More precisely, they were first attracted by the Christian community and form of life. The reasons for attraction ranged from the noble to the ignoble and were as diverse as the individuals involved; but for whatever motives, they submitted themselves to prolonged catechetical instruction in which the practiced new modes of behavior and learned the stories of Israel and their fulfillment in Christ" (George Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age [Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984], 132).

I think Lindbeck is on to something. Regardless of how we see our doctrine (generally as universally valid propositions), the world sees them as rules relevant to us only. I think that this is okay. We should preach them as such. We have to face the fact that our culture is post-Christian and that we can't just say, "The Bible says such-and-such" and expect people to listen up. We have to impress them with our lives so that they choose to submit to the faith. Then the doctrines become relevant to them.

Everything Must Change by Brian McLaren

In Everything Must Change, Brian McLaren develops the themes introduced in The Secret Message of Jesus to show how Jesus' radical new "framing story" is the solution to the global crises of our day. This book is by far the best by McLaren and is one of the best books I have read all year.

McLaren sees three crises in our world--the security crisis (the growing hostility between the developed nations and the poor, i.e. U.S. vs Al-Qaeda), the prosperity crisis (the unsustainability of free market "theo-capitalism" on our environment), and the equity crisis (the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer). I think McLaren is spot on in each of these crises, and I especially appreciated his analysis of the U.S. Al-Qaeda conflict. He calls the current dominating "framing story" (metanarrative) a suicide machine, meaning that if we keep operating the way we have been, we will destroy ourselves.

McLaren's solution to the global crises is the "revolution of hope"--substituting Jesus' message of the kingdom of God for the suicide machine. McLaren doesn't think that the phrase "kingdom of God" is appropriate for our day, so he substitutes titles like "God's sacred ecosystem" and "God's unterror movement." By convincing people to stop believing the dominant metanarratives and start believing Jesus' metanarrative, we will fuel the fire of the "revolution of hope" and turn around the suicide machine.

All of McLaren's thoughts (in this book) are good.

However, I think McLaren's one-sided view of the kingdom of God will torpedo any success he hopes to accomplish with this needed message. I completely agree that the world has adopted a metanarrative that is self-destructive. I also agree that Jesus' message of the kingdom of God is the message that is needed to turn everything around. However, notably absent in this book is any mention of the church or the Holy Spirit.

When McLaren speaks of "the Gospel," he refers to God's good news that He is redeeming the world. This is half true. McLaren has an axe to grind against most evangelicals that just want to preach substitutionary atonement and self-help sermons. His writings to this point have been a needed wake-up call to social justice. However, in reacting against Reformed theology, McLaren has thrown the baby out with the bathwater. He doesn't address the fact that deep down, people have a spiritual problem. They will read his book, think "That's nice," and then go back to the suicide machine. Apart from the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, no one will set aside the suicide machine to live the kingdom of God. We can't do that on our own because we are infected with the disease called sin. Therefore, we can't throw out preaching of the cross. The Holy Spirit works through that Gospel to regenerate people so that they can live the life McLaren is calling them to live.

If it weren't for the significant disagreements that I have with Brian McLaren about Jesus' message, I would say Everything Must Change is the best book I have read all year. But I do disagree with him on some major points, so I will just say that the book is very good.

Random Musing on Evangelical Culture and the Future

Sometimes I wonder if I am a non-conformist to a fault.

I read a lot of "liberal" stuff, subscribe to a kind of postmodern epistemology/hermeneutic, subscribe to Sojourners, and sympathize with a lot of Roman Catholic and liberal protestant ideas. Sometimes I get the feeling that there are some at my church who wonder if I am a liberal or, worse yet, emergent. At the same time, I went to Cedarvile University and Dallas Seminary, I believe in "inerrancy," and generally take a conservative position on almost every theological issue. Most people on the emerging church blogs would probably call me a fundamentalist.

Can't we all just get along?

I read a lot of the emerging church literature and I agree with most of it, but I still find myself an outsider. I think that the evangelical church in America has some serious problems and is in need of a major overhaul. I am a child of the late seventies/early eighties, raised in public school, and cannot help but think like a postmodernist. It's who I am. (Interestingly enough, I did not approach the postmodernism issue as a modernist evangelical trying to speak the language of the culture, but as a postmodernist realizing that I did not have to conform to the dominant worldview of my evangelical tribe.) However, while postmodernism has led a lot of evangelicals toward the left, it has solidified my position on the right. I no longer feel the need to have to justify my crazy beliefs--they work for me, which is all anyone can say about their beliefs.

I get upset sometimes when I read the emerging blogs because they portray the people who mentored me as ungodly dinosaurs who are only interested in head knowledge to the detriment of following Christ. Nothing could be further from the truth. I know these guys; and I know they love God. At the same time, one of the reasons I did not persue a PhD is because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get a job at a conservative seminary. I know my eschatological beliefs proclude me from teaching at either school from which I graduated. That hurts, too. It's kind of like there is a line in the sand. You have to be either a left wing fruit nut with no systematic theology and an axe to grind about American consumerism, or a right wing stiff decrying the evils of narrative theology or the New Perspective on Paul. What about the people who believe that there are right and wrong answers, but who are open to the idea that some of their own answers might be the wrong ones, and who, at the same time, want to see us getting out into the world to transform it?

Here is my question. Is there room in the future of evangelicalism for the postmodern fundamentalist? By this, I mean the person who rejects anyone's claim of absolute certainty regarding any metanarrative, and recognizes such assertions as little more than power plays, but whose own views are really conservative. I hope so, because that is what I am starting to feel that I am.

Twenty-first Century American Evangelicalism

I have recently started thinking again about what American evangelicalism is going to look like in the near future. Two events have spurred these thoughts, (1) I recently finished reading Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, and (2) I preached for the second time at my church in Gig Harbor, Washington.

I liked Velvet Elvis, but it raised more questions than it answered for me. (That was probably Rob Bell's intention in writing the book.) That book, Brian McLaren's A New Kind of Christian and A Generous Orthodoxy, Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz, Leonard Sweet's Out of the Question . . . Into the Mystery, and The Church in Emerging Culture: Five Perspectives (edited by Leonard Sweet) have given me many thoughts about the future of Christianity in America. I think they effectively challenge the Modernist assumptions of mainstream American evangelicalism. The old style of Christianity will likely die out in the near future, and a newer style will emerge.

In addition to the thoughts of the emerging church, my own preaching and teaching has caused me to think. I like to challenge people in their beliefs. I strongly believe that you should know why you believe what you believe--you shouldn't just accept it because your pastor told you it is true. I frequently tackle issues such as the problem of evil, prosperity passages in the Old Testament, the imprecatory psalms, spiritual gifts, legalism, and gender roles. I find that young people like this. They appreciate the fact that I tackle difficult questions and I don't give easy answers. However, I also find that a lot of older, more conservative people really dislike me. I think it is because they appreciate an air-tight, modernist, we-have-everything-figured-out-and-we're-right, kind of faith.

So here is my dilemma--most people would consider me an "emerging" teacher. I can't help it. I was raised in a postmodern culture. It's who I am. But when I read the writings of most emerging church leaders, I get very uncomfortable. The assumption that a lot of them make (that I disagree with) is that the Gospel is acultural, that is, the Gospel is not bound to culture and can be expressed differently at different times and places. They argue that Christianity looked one way during the time of the Fathers, one way in medeival times, another way in the Rennaisance, another way in the Enlightenment, and still another way in postmodernity. You might also add that Christianity takes on a different flavor globally in the post-colonial world. And while all of this is true, I question whether that is proof that our theology should evolve over time. Isn't it more appropriate to say that it has (for better or for worse) evolved over time.

I do not think that the Gospel is acultural. There are cetain cultural practices that are incompatible with the Gospel. Take human slavery, for example. In the Book of Philemon, Paul implied to Philemon that slavery was incompatible with Christianity. Because he and his slave Onesimus were brothers in Christ, they should be brothers on earth. Granted, the practice of human slavery continued for centuries (and continues today) even in so-called "Christian nations." Granted also, many in the church supported human slavery and justified it with biblical teaching. Today, most Christians do not believe that human slavery is acceptable. But does that mean that our theology evolved in the sense that we changed what was "Christian," or that it evolved in the sense that we discovered what was always "Christian"? I think the latter is the case.

What will the church look like in twenty-first century postmodern America? I think we need to be careful about which tenets of postmodernism that we allow into our theology. Just as the church needed to rise above culture on issues such as human slavery and women's rights, it needs to rise above the culture on issues such as egocentricity and materialism. In fact, I don't think the changing landscape of our culture is due to widespread acceptance of postmodernism. (After all, you still get fired for consistantly showing up to work late, even if you argue that time is relative. You still get a ticket for running a red light, even if you argue that there is no 1-to-1 correspondance between "red" and "stop" and that you interpreted the red light to mean "go.") I think we use postmodernism as an excuse for egocentrism because we have problems with authority. Americans don't want to be told what to do, and postmodern philosophy provides an easy excuse to live the way we want to live.

I think the reason that the emerging church has been so successful is because it is not as authoritarian as modernist evangelical churches. Whereas modernist evangelical preachers say "thus saith the Lord," emerging preachers say "thus saith the Lord, I think." This is music to the ears of egocentric Americans because they can choose whether or not to agree with you. In that sense, emerging churches are successful for the same reason that charismatic churches have been so successful--they elevate the individual to judge their own spiritual reality.

Despite how this all might sound, I think the emerging church is a good thing. I think we need to have humility in our interpretation. But you don't have to be a postmodernist to be humble in your interpretation. Critical realists do the same thing. Absolute truth exists, but absolute knowledge of absolute truth does not exist. However, that does not mean that we cannot have pratical knowledge of absolute truth. We can have practical knowledge of Jesus and His teaching in the same way that we can have practical knowledge of other things in life. After all, I don't have absolute certainty that the Tacoma Narrows Bridge isn't going to collapse the next time I drive over it, but I have reason to believe that it won't. I have enough knowledge to make a reasonable knowledge claim--the Narrows Bridge is safe to drive on. But then again, maybe I'm wrong.