Frank A. Lawrence
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First Kings carries the narrative of the history of the monarchy from the last days of David (c. 965 B.C.) to the death of Ahab (c. 853 B.C.). Among the highlights of this turbulent century are the economic grandeur and spiritual decadence of Solomon’s reign, the division of the kingdom by Rehoboam and Jeroboam, and the exploits of Elijah climaxed by his victory over the prophets of Baal in the contest on Mt. Carmel. Always a fertile source of preaching materials, I Kings at present deserves even closer attention in view of the increased light shed on its pages by archeological discoveries, historical research, and sociological insights.
Date, Authorship, Composition
The earliest date for the completion of the books of Kings is set by the description of Jehoiachin’s release about 560 B.C. (2 Kings 25:27–30). However, the bulk of the material was probably compiled and edited in the last years of the Southern Kingdom which fell in 587–586 B.C.
The highly stylized presentation of the history and the uniform theological outlook throughout the books seem to reflect the hand of a single compiler. The emphases on the ministry of Elijah, Elisha, and other prophets, along with the general prophetic tone of the editor, has caused many ancients and some moderns to single out Jeremiah as the compiler. Exact identification is impossible, but it is safe to say, with Driver, that the author was a “man like-minded with Jeremiah, and almost certainly a contemporary who lived and wrote under the same influences.” The impact of Deuteronomy on the compilers of Judges, I and II Samuel, and I and II Kings has often been pointed out. One can acknowledge that the former prophets bear the stamp of men influenced by the speeches of Deuteronomy without accepting a seventh century date for the composition of Deuteronomy. (For a recent defense of the Mosaic authorship of Deuteronomy see G. T. Manley, The Book of the Law. London: Tyndale Press, 1957). In the compilations of these editors we have the beginning of history writing. The former purely annalistic method, the mere chronicling of events, gives way in the former prophets to a subjective approach in which the eye and mind of the historian play important roles. Further, the historian ceases to be a court apologist glorifying the king, as was the custom among most ancient peoples (the Hittites being an exception), and frequently evaluates and criticizes the royal record as we see in Kings where some rulers are branded good and others evil.
Thanks to the fact that the compiler of Kings mentions some of his sources, we can gain some insight into his methods of composition. In all probability the bulk of the material concerning Solomon in 1 Kings 1–11 was drawn from the Book of the Acts of Solomon (1 Kings 11:4). In addition, there are frequent references to the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel and the similar record of the kings of Judah. Several of the kings are said to have employed a recorder (mazkir, one who causes to remember), whose duty undoubtedly was to keep an official record of the royal events. The Septuagint seems to suggest that the Book of Jasher (cf. Josh. 10:13) underlies 1 Kings 8:12–13 (LXX 8:53). The exploits of the prophets, especially Elijah and Elisha, were probably familiar to the compiler in oral form, as they had been preserved and circulated in prophetic circles.
The editor is by no means passive in his approach to the written and oral sources. He weaves the prophetic materials into the court journals with dexterity and takes great pains to combine records from both kingdoms into a synchronized historical narrative. Materials from the Northern Kingdom were probably brought to the south by refugees when Samaria fell before the Assyrians about 722 B.C.
All of those materials were filtered through the mind of the editor and bear his prophetic stamp with the result that “the Book is a history written with a religious and a practical aim.… The remarkable note is that when all was lost, someone found the history of that tragic period worth recording as a lesson of God’s discipline of His people.” (Montgomery-Gehman, ICC, pp. 44–45). The God who shaped the course of history guided the hand that wrote it.
The Chronological Puzzle
Bible students have long recognized that a simple addition of the regnal datings led to perplexing answers. E. R. Thiele achieved what appears to be a major breakthrough when he discovered that not the numbers but our methods of interpreting them were in error. In his The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings (University of Chicago Press, 1951) Thiele resolves the major chronological problems for the period covered by I Kings (other adjustments are necessary for later periods) with the hypothesis that Judah used an accession year system of dating (i.e. the first year of a reign was not counted in the reckonings of years) while Israel used a nonaccession year system (i.e. the first year of a reign was counted). When this difference and the fact that Judah’s regnal year began in the month Tishri while Israel’s began in Nisan are taken into consideration, a harmonious synchronization is achieved without recourse to amending the numbers.
Archeological Light
Excavations over the past 30 years have brought to light such a wealth of material concerning the Solomonic period that biblical scholars can well appreciate the Queen of Sheba’s amazement at the splendor of the wise king’s domain. The discovery of Ezion-geber, Solomon’s industrial and commercial capital on the Gulf of Aqabah (1 Kings 9:27), has shed considerable light on this period. Among the fascinating finds was the copper refinery, equipped with flues and specially angled to utilize the prevailing winds to fan the refining fires. Metallurgists have expressed wonder as to how sufficient heat could have been generated to smelt the copper in the quantities suggested by the huge refining kettles. This outstanding mining and smelting enterprise made possible the casting of the great temple pillars, Jachin and Boaz, the molten sea, the 10 bronze lavers, and other vessels (1 Kings 7:15 ff.). For a firsthand account of Solomon’s mines and Ezion-geber one should consult N. Glueck’s The Other Side of the Jordan (New Haven: ASOR, 1940).
The administrative skills of Solomon (cf. 1 Kings 4) are evidenced not only in his constructing and managing of Ezion-geber, a well-planned and carefully engineered city, but also in his substantial enterprises in other cities, especially Megiddo. This perennial crossroads of the Levant was rebuilt by Solomon (1 Kings 9:15) and was a key citadel in his military enterprise. A huge stable capable of housing upwards of 450 horses and 150 chariots has been excavated among the other government buildings of Megiddo. The feeding and watering equipment and spacious layout testify to the prestige which the cavalry enjoyed in Solomon’s army. An example of Solomon’s chariot cities, Megiddo may also have been one of the centers of Solomon’s horse trading with the Hittite and Syrian Kings (1 Kings 10:26–29). Recent excavations at Gezer and Hazor have lent further testimony to the splendor of this period (cf. 1 Kings 9:15–17).
Further evidence of Solomon’s prestige is found in his marriage to the daughter of the Egyptian king (1 Kings 9:16). A recent writer has remarked: “Here we have a political occurrence without parallel not only in Israelite, but also in Egyptian history. As far as we know, there is no other real example of a Pharaoh’s daughter given in marriage to a foreign royal house.…” (A. Malamat, “The Kingdom of David and Solomon in its contact with Egypt and Aram Naharaim” in Biblical Archeologist, Dec. 1958, p. 97).
Solomon’s wide-spread commercial activity sheds light on the visit of the Queen of Sheba (1 Kings 10:1 ff.). This Arabian ruler may well have been affected financially by Solomon’s canny fiscal policies. His sea voyages, for instance, between Ezion-geber and Ophir (probably in East Africa) may have cut into her caravan trade. 1 Kings 10:13 seems to indicate that a satisfactory agreement was reached. Assyrian inscriptions of the eighth and seventh centuries B.C. mentioning Arabian queens show that the Queen of Sheba is by no means an isolated case of a woman ruler.
The most lasting and influential legacy of Solomon’s era was the temple of Jerusalem. Only during this period was there found in Israel the combination of wealth, international prestige, and respite from enemy attacks necessary to carry to completion a project of this scale. The resources of Solomon’s kingdom and the ties of friendship with Phoenicia (1 Kings 5:1) were exploited to the hilt to provide a worthy dwelling place for God. The foreign artisans were indispensable both because the pastoral life of the Israelites did not stimulate craftsmanship and because their prohibition against making any replica of the deity (Exod. 20:4) tended to curtail artistic activity.
Archeological discoveries in Canaan together with the fairly detailed biblical descriptions (1 Kings 5–8) have enabled scholars to make reasonable reconstructions of the temple and its furnishings. Caution is necessary, however, inasmuch as nothing of the temple remains and no Phoenician temple of the tenth century B.C. has yet been discovered. The shrine of Tainat in Syria, dating from the ninth century contains the same tripartite division—porch, nave (holy place), and inner sanctuary (holy of holies). A brief but helpful description of the temple is found in Andre Parrot’s The Temple of Jerusalem (London: SCM Press, 1957).
The Israelite king, Omri, merits only a few verses in the narrative (1 Kings 16:16–29), but one of his exploits had lasting significance for his country. After he revolted against and did away with Zimri, he transferred the capital from Tirzah to the city which he himself built on a hill he had purchased from Shemer—Samaria. In all probability it was the growing threat of invasion from Assyria, just beginning to reveal the traits of brutality and aggression which made her the scourge of the Middle East for over two hundred years, that caused the military tactician, Omri, to fortify the hill of Samaria. Here he and his illustrious successors, especially Ahab (c. 873–853) and Jeroboam II (c. 781–753), lived in moderate security and lavish splendor until the hill-fortress yielded to the relentless onslaughts of the Assyrian king, Sargon II, in 722 B.C.
Omri’s son Ahab enriched the city of his father by building an “ivory house” (1 Kings 22:39) whose splendor caused it to be numbered among his important deeds. This abundant use of ivory in Samaria was a symptom of decadent luxury to the austere soul of Amos (3:15; 6:4). J. W. Crowfoot and others, excavating Samaria between 1931 and 1935, found almost 200 ivory plaques or fragments of plaques within the palace of Ahab. The carvings and inlays on the ivories testify amply both to the lavish display of wealth and the syncretistic type of worship which the author of Kings and the eighth century prophets found offensive. Again we are indebted to Parrot for his Samaria, the Capital of the Kingdom of Israel (London: SCM Press, 1958), which traces the checkered history of the city from the time of Omri to that of John the Baptist.
Theological Emphases
In Kings we see prophetism in action. Elijah, the sturdy Tishbite, dominates the narrative from 1 Kings 17 until his ascension in 2 Kings 2, where his mantle falls on Elisha. These men of courage bridge the gap between early seers like Samuel, Nathan, and Gad and the great eighth century writing prophets, Hosea, Amos, Isaiah, and Micah. In their fierce and fearless denunciation of wicked kings, they follow in the train of Samuel and Nathan and point the way to the prophet Amos and also John the Baptist.
Our author’s interest in the prophetic outlook is by no means exhausted in the stories of Elijah, Elisha, the man of God from Judah and the old prophet of Bethel (1 Kings 13), and the other prophets. His interest in prophetism is reflected on almost every page by his handling and molding of his materials. An anonymous member of the prophetic company, he evaluates incisively each reign and condemns kings of both kingdoms who fall short of prophetic standards, especially in regard to idolatry (e.g., 1 Kings 16:31–33). The same Spirit of God that prompted Elijah to name Ahab as the true troubler of Israel (1 Kings 18:18) moved the author to brand all other idolatrous kings as troublers of Israel.
To understand the attitude of the author of Kings one must recall the terms of the Davidic covenant in 2 Samuel 7:12–17: (1) God would establish permanently the kingdom of David’s son; (2) God would enter into a father-son relationship with the king, punishing or blessing him according to his conduct; (3) the son would build a house for God’s name. The antipathy toward the Northern Kingdom stems from Jeroboam’s breach of this covenant by usurping part of the Davidic authority and establishing rival sanctuaries (1 Kings 12:28–33). No king who perpetuated this sacrilege could merit divine favor. Thus the Northern kings are uniformly condemned.
Tools For Understanding
The most valuable commentary on Kings is the volume in the International Critical Commentary by J. A. Montgomery and H. S. Gehman (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1951). It is essential to view the drama of Israel against the backdrop of her neighboring nations. Of the many recent histories which make the most of recent light on the entire Near East, I prefer C. H. Gordon’s Introduction to Old Testament Times (Ventnor Press, 1953) and H. M. Orlinsky’s Ancient Israel (Cornell University Press, 1954). We can also be grateful for an English edition of M. Noth’s substantial History of Israel (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1958). Geography, too, has come in for concentrated study of late. In addition to the revised edition of G. E. Wright and F. Filson’s Westminster Historical Atlas (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956), L. H. Grollenberg’s admirable Atlas of the Bible (New York: Nelson, 1956) and E. G. Kraeling’s Bible Atlas (New York: Rand McNally, 1956) will give needed light to the historical background and the numerous geographical references in Kings. The quarterly Biblical Archeologist (New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research) will keep one abreast of archeological findings. For questions of weather, topography, crops, etc., one should consult Denis Baly’s The Geography of the Bible (New York: Harper, 1957). Finally, the two indispensable volumes edited by J. B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts (Princeton University Press, 1950) and The Ancient Near East in Pictures (1954) will shed illumination on virtually every page of Kings.
DAVID A. HUBBARD
Westmont College, Santa Barbara, Calif.
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Someone has said, “There are no experts on Russia—only varying degrees of ignorance.” In the few days I was in and around Moscow I realized a little more fully the Soviet enigma. I even hesitate to put in writing my impressions and experiences lest they add to the confusion of ignorance. Yet even a visitor to Moscow senses that he is in a totally different world.
A Los Angeles businessman who had been to Russia several times had flown to Australia to urge me to go as a tourist just to get “the feel” of the people. He had brought greetings from religious leaders and assurances that we would be warmly received.
On June 11 we arrived at Moscow airport by way of a Russian TU-104 Jet. In no country in the world did we receive such cordial and courteous treatment by customs and immigration officials. Not one of our bags was opened for inspection. Yet even at the airport we knew that this was to be a different experience from any we had ever known. We already “felt” that indefinable something that is the Soviet World. Only a handful of people there at the airport knew who we were. (This is one part of the world where I believe I can move among people almost totally unrecognized.) But as we were going through a line, a young woman with a bright smile inspected my passport, then, looking around as if to be sure no one would see her, she silently pointed upward. This was my first experience among the silent believers that are in the Soviet Union today.
From the airport to the heart of Moscow we drove in a Ziv through the countryside that could easily have been Illinois or Indiana. Suddenly the driver turned a comer and we saw hundreds of new apartment houses which mark a part of the Soviet Slum Clearance Scheme. These magnificent apartments with “built in” shopping centers were pointed to with pride as a sample of social progress. They stood in rather sharp contrast to the shabby dress of the people on the streets and the haunted, tired look on their faces.
Moscow is the capital of a country that covers 16 per cent of the world’s land and holds some 200 million people. It is the heart of a world-wide network of Communist subversion and infiltration that is so fantastic that even the experts are left gasping. As we drove to our hotel, I was contemplating on aspects of its history. This was the land that the Tartans ruled for so long, causing it to miss the cultural, political and social developments of the Renaissance. When Europe was emerging from the darkness of the Middle Ages, Russia remained as she was, divided and conquered until Ivan the Terrible drove the Tartans from Russia in the sixteenth century. This helps us to understand why Russia is different and in many ways far behind the rest of Europe even today. Then I thought of Peter the Great who made closer contact with Europe by his conquests through the Caspian and Black Seas, and who added Siberia and built Petersburg with its European architecture. I thought of Catherine the Great and her wars with Poland, of Alexander I who held back Napoleon. And as we rode through the lightly trafficked streets, my mind considered the day of November 7, 1917, when under the leadership of Nikolai Lenin the Bolsheviks took over the government. Subsequent history has proved that this was the greatest revolution in historyand destined to affect the lives of us all for decades and perhaps centuries to come.
Suddenly we were at the hotel. As a tourist, you do not choose your own hotel—it is chosen for you. We were fortunate to be at the Ukraine Hotel which is one of the seven skyscrapers in Moscow. In the spacious lobby were people from all over the world. It was evening, but only a few had on coats and ties, and I saw two men sitting at a table in undershirts. It dawned on me that here must be an illustration of classless society which is not so classless any longer. The peasant and the worker could go to the finest hotel dining room in work clothes and feel even more at home than a man in evening dress. The few Americans and West Europeans stood out like sore thumbs because of their better dress.
We set out to see all the normal tourists’ sights. No one followed us, and no one told us where to go or what to do. Most of the time we either walked or traveled by taxi or subway. The things I noticed immediately were the cleanliness of the city, absence of advertising, and the intellectual caliber of the literature on the newsstands, showing a complete lack of sexual emphasis.
High over the Kremlin at night shines a giant Red Star with five fingers pointing to the five continents of the world where the Communists hope some day to bring about revolution. The color of the Russian flag, like the star, is red, symbolizing the blood that was shed in the Revolution and blood that is yet to be shed before the world is completely Communist. One of the amazing contradictions in Russia is that crosses are seen on churches in many places, and on the towers of the Kremlin are crosses symbolizing Christ’s conquest of evil. Thus even on the towers of the Kremlin the cross of Christ faces the Red Star. The word kremlin means “fortress.” It was the original city of Moscow with a giant wall in the Middle Ages built for protection from invasion. Inside are modern office buildings where much of Soviet business is carried on. During Stalin’s time it was closed to the public. We saw even here something of the religious hunger of the people. They would swarm into the churches and temples in the Kremlin which have been kept as museum pieces of historical interest. On the walls of these churches are biblical paintings—one of the Crucifixion, before which I saw people boldly making the sign of the Cross.
In visiting the tomb of Lenin and Stalin, a visitor stands in line with hundreds of other tourists. Again I watched the faces of the people: this march through the tomb was almost a religious expression. As I looked at Lenin and remembered the bright hope of thousands of workers and peasants who had believed so many promises back in 1917, I could not help recalling the words of Boris Pasternak’s character Andreievich in Doctor Zhivago: “When the revolution woke him up, he decided that his century-old dream was coming true. Instead he found he had only exchanged the oppression of the former state for the new, much harsher yoke of the revolutionary super state.”
In Gorky Park on a Saturday night, which is a combination of Coney Island and Disneyland, we observed more people. I was far more interested in observing them than seeing the unusual sights of this fantastic park with its circus, the largest ferris wheel I’ve ever seen, its athletic contests, et cetera. I thought I could read in their expressions a combination of fear and insecurity, yet determination and dedication. To watch the Soviet person at work or play is almost frightening. While it is true that many of these people may be disillusioned with Communist rule, they do believe firmly that someday they will rule the world. To this end they study and work with a terrific zeal. Mr. Khrushchev’s boast, “We will bury you,” is no idle threat! Behind him is a shrewdness of mind and a power of determination that has already conquered one third of the world and frustrated much of the other two thirds. In this giant park young people were not only engaged in various forms of physical exercise, but were listening to speakers in open-air pavilions. These speakers were apparently party leaders answering questions or making speeches explaining party doctrine. Propaganda posters everywhere were urging the people to meet work quotas, and I saw one in which the hammer and sickle had crushed Uncle Sam with the ever-present dollar mark. Another impression of mine in this famous park was how disciplined the crowds were. One saw no trash about, little drinking, no unruliness. There were young people by the thousands but never once did I see any couple doing more than walking arm in arm or holding hands. There is little emphasis on sex on the newsstands, in parks, or in films or on television. Harrison Salisbury, well-known correspondent for the New York Times, who spent much time with us, explained that the Russians historically have been a puritanical people, but, in addition, the Communist party frowns on any display of sex in public. It is felt by the party leaders that their goal of world revolution could never be attained by a people whose strength has been dissipated in drunkenness, narcotics, or sex. It causes us to pause and think about how far we have wandered from the biblical concept, and how far on the road toward Sodom we have gone. I could not help thinking of Professor Sorokin’s (chairman of Department of Sociology at Harvard) arguments in his book, The American Sex Revolution, as he warns America that our emphasis on this subject may destroy us faster than communism. What a challenge to the Christian Church! Let those that speak out so courageously on social issues also speak out against the sensuality and immorality that seem to be engulfing us as a nation.
To visit the University of Moscow is a never-to-be-forgotten experience. Certainly it ranks as one of the world’s greatest institutions of learning. It would take days to see it all, but the few hours we spent there convinced us that the Soviet student is there for work, not social life. As we had tea with the students, we again felt an indefinable “something” about the atmosphere and on their faces. What is it? Is it fear—disillusionment—insecurity—dedication—or is it, as someone has said, a giant spiritual octopus under the control of a supernatural power—called in Scripture “The prince and power of the air?” I am not sure of the answer.
One thing I did find out at the University, and that is that 10 million Russian youth are studying English while less than 10,000 Americans are studying Russian. These people mean business! They are getting ready for the day when.…
We saw additional religious symbols and expressions at the art galleries of Moscow. One of the paintings that attracted most attention was a life-size painting of John the Baptist who is pointing to Jesus and saying, “Behold, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” The artist had shown the various reactions to Christ in the faces of John’s followers. I felt I saw these same reactions in the crowd of people who stood silently watching with us. Again I witnessed almost reverence on the part of some as they gazed on that scene. I wondered what was in their minds. Indeed, I was certain that some were true believers, and wished it were possible to tell them about One who let me know that he was the Lamb of God.
One of the great surprises to me was to find how many churches are open in the Soviet Union. We were told by religious leaders that there are more than 20,000 Orthodox and 5,400 Baptist churches holding services every week. We went to three services in the Moscow Baptist church and heard six sermons. In addition, we went to Zagorsk Monastery, about 50 miles from Moscow, which is the “mecca” of the Russian Orthodox church.
My host, Mr. Bill Jones of Los Angeles, had conveyed the desire of Baptist leaders that I speak in the services on the Sunday we were to be there, but our decision to go to Russia was made too late to obtain the right kind of visa. With only a tourist visa it was against government regulations for me to preach. How thankful I am for the experience of worshiping in this church, sitting among the people, and listening to six of the finest biblical expositions I’ve ever heard. We heard the sermons through translators that were provided. Even though it was a sweltering weekend, the church was jammed and hundreds stood through the two-hour services in the aisles, peering in the windows and standing outside. In watching the people, no one could doubt their sincerity or the depth of their commitment. The preachers have to stick to the Bible, they do not make statements on social or political issues. One sermon was on the Spirit-filled life, another on the blood of Christ, another on the power of prayer in times of hardship, and another on the second coming of Christ and heaven. After the first sermon, the leaders of the church invited us (including half a dozen newsmen who had accompanied us) back to a private study. In answer to a newsman’s question, one of the pastors said, “There is no modernism among Baptists in this country.… We believe the Bible to be inspired of God and we preach it with conviction and authority.” Later we were told that no one under 18 is admitted to membership. When a person applies for membership in a church, he is put on probation for 18 months to three years. No one that drinks or smokes is allowed to be a member. The churches practice strong discipline. If a member is not living an obedient Christian life, he is called before the church; and if his ways do not change, the church withdraws fellowship from him. It is quite evident to a visitor that to be an open Christian is costly in Russia. To be a member of a church is a great privilege and responsibility. The cost has been carefully calculated over many months or years. It’s not just meeting a board of deacons or elders, signing a decision card, or walking forward, or even being baptized—it is the rearrangement of one’s whole way of life. This open declaration for Christ adversely affects the social and especially the economic life of every individual. The price to be paid is not unlike that paid by the early Church. No wonder all the physically able members show up every Sunday. I wish every American Christian could have seen them almost fighting to put money in the collection plate. The collections support the church with its many pastors and assistants. The gifts are not deductible from income tax!
After the Revolution, nearly all branches of the Christian Church, exclusive of the Russian Orthodox, were united and called “Baptist.” In the midst of hardship and persecution a true spiritual unity, based on common need, the authority of the Scriptures, and the person of Christ, was found. This may be the finest example of true ecumenism existing in the world today.
We had often heard three criticisms of the Russian church. First, that there were no young people. The young Communist League has been conducting a campaign against what they call a return to religion among the youth of Russia. We estimated that at least one fifth of each audience consisted of teen-agers even though there are no Sunday Schools or youth organizations. For a young person to attend a church is exceedingly difficult if he wants to get ahead educationally.
Second, we have heard that some of the ministers may be Communist agents. I cannot answer this, for I don’t know. However, I believe I have some spiritual discernment and I am convinced that most of the pastors we met are godly men who have paid an unbelievable price for their faith. I asked myself many times while there what I would do if I had been born and reared in the Soviet Union during the past 40 years. It is easy for us to sit in our comfortable homes, well-furnished studies and protected religious freedom and point an accusing finger. But suppose there are some unbelievers within the church—Christ had his Judas! That does not mean that all the other disciples were condemned.
Third, there is little religious freedom in the Soviet Union. This is only partly true. Certainly there is not freedom such as we know it. The church definitely operates within restricted and limited areas. Yet within those areas there seems to be great freedom—especially in the preaching and teaching of the Bible. Here is the most exciting thing I discovered in Russia: the Bible which the party thought to be outdated, unscientific, and relegated to the eighteenth century was handed to the pastors and some of the people. It was thought that no intelligent person, especially the youth, would believe or accept it. They did not realize that this Word has its own built-in power. “Is not my word … like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?” And it is God’s sickle to reap a spiritual harvest.
END
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Carl Jung, in his book, The Undiscovered Self (1958) has this arresting phrase—“where the Church is notoriously weak, as in Protestantism.” In the United States Army, where I have been a chaplain for the past two years, one understands how weak modern Protestantism really is.
It has been discouraging to note the small attendance at weekly worship services, not only my own services but those conducted by other Protestant chaplains also. To condemn the Army for the religious indifference so many soldiers develop is wrong. The Army gives its approval and support, both moral and financial, to the religious program, and displays its concern to provide for the religious needs of all personnel. The scarcity of worshipers at chapel services and personal conversations convince me that the religious loyalty of most Protestant men is shallow.
The Roman Catholic situation offers a striking contrast. Though Catholic personnel in the Army is lower percentagewise than Protestant, Catholic services are crowded. A Catholic chaplain has merely to announce a service and the men will gather, whereas the average Protestant chaplain’s best promotional work has minimal results. At my post, Fort Bliss, Texas, attendance at Catholic services normally runs twice that of Protestant services. Even an equal attendance would still speak of Protestant weakness, since only one fourth of the men are Catholic.
Protestants with whom I have discussed this problem all have some convenient rationalization: Generally the line is that “Catholics come only because they have to.” But Catholics “have to” only because they are committed to their faith, and most Protestants stay away because they are not deeply committed.
Some exceptions exist. A Protestant chaplain with a “dynamic” personality, or one whose commanding officer “pushes the program,” may have a better response.
This further illustrates the problem: Unless they are entertained, coaxed, or pressured, our men do not regularly attend worship. To the point of nausea, chaplains hear the old refrain, “I used to go to church all the time back home, but since I’ve been in the Army.…”
Something about Protestant church life makes it susceptible to this easy decline. Three things in particular seem to lie back of this situation.
Importance Of Public Worship
First, Protestants have never convinced their young men that regular public worship is important. We have done well to point out that salvation does not come from attending church. But we have failed to show the true importance of the worship service.
The average Protestant soldier figures that if he skips church, he has not really missed anything. Church is all right for those who like it, but not especially important. Roy M. Pearson writing about this element says, “In their minds the church is an ethical culture society, a good thing for children, not harmful for women, and even tolerable by men as long as it does not become overly inquisitive about their businesses, politics, or souls” (“Preaching and the Understanding of the Congregation,” Pastoral Psychology, March 1959, p. 39). Tolerable, but not important. One constantly hears somebody chattering about staying home on Sundays because there are hypocrites in the church. Certainly there are hypocrites in the church. But the biggest hypocrite of all is one who claims to be a Christian and does not go to church. In their flights of oratory on topics of the times, preachers should occasionally descend to earth long enough to tell their people that a Christian ought to go to church. We must insist that public acknowledgment of God in worship is a Christian duty.
The alternative is obvious. Men who long ignore public worship tend to lose their sense of personal devotion and to drift permanently away from Christian influences. It is impossible to build up the faith and ethical concern of those who separate themselves from the Christian fellowship.
The Social And The Spiritual
Second, the average Protestant regards his church life as a social affair rather than as an opportunity for confronting God. The emphasis is on the horizontal relationship rather than the vertical. The worship service is a time for seeing friends, an outing with the family. Public worship does indeed have a horizontal aspect, but we have made that all-determinative. We should keep the social values, but we must stop making these the foundation, and give precedence to the vertical.
This weakness is sometimes recognized but seldom attacked. Then when a young fellow comes into the Army, the bad attitudes of a lifetime bear their natural fruit. Perhaps his new friends do not attend church. His family is not around, so he would have to go alone. Church attendance in the past has been so much a social affair that he little senses the value that comes from going to the house of God simply to lift one’s heart in repentance, faith, praise, and prayer. The young man does not have enough inner discipline for Christian faithfulness in the Army. His church attendance in the past has been simply a response to external pressure; he continues to move only according to pressures, but now the pressures are different.
It need not be inferred that this applies to every person in the service. Many are as devout and faithful as anyone in any civilian church, and take advantage of their opportunities for worship while in the Army.
Loyalty To Christ
Third, Protestants generally give primary loyalty to a particular local church, not to Christ. This is true apart from particular doctrines of the Church found in the various denominations. This is apparent in civilian life whenever a person, supposedly a Christian, must be won all over again when he moves to a new community. He may have been faithful in the church from which he came, but in the new place he feels no obligation to continue in church life. Especially is this true of young, single men going to school or taking jobs away from home. So ministers spend their time trying to convince newcomers that they should be Christians in Mudville like they were in Podunk.
This situation worsens in the Army. The young fellow attended church back home. But that by no means ensures his attendance in uniform. Back home he enjoyed a certain program of activities—perhaps the Sunday School class, or the Sunday evening activities, or the choir work, or other parts of the program. At the Army chapel he may find few or none of these things. There sometimes is “nothing but” a worship service—prayer, hymns, Scripture reading, and preaching. Since his loyalty was to the program of activities of a particular church in a particular community, and not pre-eminently to Christ, the services of his post or of any civilian church in the area “just do not seem like church”, they are not like the church back home.
Also, some men base their religious loyalty on their liking for individuals. They liked the minister back home, who may even have been a personal and family friend. But the military situation generally is too fluid to develop the same kind of personal relationships with a chaplain. So they take a vacation from religious responsibilities. Religious loyalty is impotent when it is based primarily on human personalities.
We must start over in our religious education program. We must teach our people from childhood that our loyalty is to Christ and that it must not be governed by place, or church program, or human leadership. It should be a fundamental tenet that on the Lord’s Day Christians honor him by gathering, wherever they may be, with other disciples of the same Lord for worship.
The Christian faith cannot exist without individual response to the call of God. But neither can it long endure without group expression in regular public worship. The problem is particularly acute for Protestantism. It must be faced and corrected if the Protestant denominations are to retain a significant place in the structure of American life.
END
Preacher In The Red
NO SERIOUS REPERCUSSIONS
I was called to my previous pastorate as a student just a few months before graduation. My predecessor was a man more than 70 and had served in the ministry for some 23 years. Only a few weeks after my acceptance of the church, this godly pastor passed away and was buried in the nearby cemetery.
Because the town was small, the other pastor in the vicinity was asked to take part in the service, read the Scripture, and pray. That day the man who was to preach the sermon handed me the Bible, I placed my bookmark in the passage, and in turn gave it to the other pastor. But alas, either the preacher who placed the Bible in my hands gave me the wrong Scripture or I marked it wrong, but the poor man who read the passage before a packed church read not the comforting words of 2 Corinthians 5, but the words of 1 Corinthians 5 which ended, “Therefore put away from among yourselves that wicked person.”
I shall always be thankful that the reader was a man of prayer, for when he sat down the audience was so caught up with the prayer that the Scripture was, except to a few, unremembered.—The Rev. G. ROSS LAIDLAW, Somerton, Arizona.
For each report by a minister of the Gospel of an embarrassing moment in his life, CHRISTIANITY TODAY will pay $5 (upon publication). To be acceptable, anecdotes must narrate factually a personal experience, and must be previously unpublished. Contributions should not exceed 250 words, should be typed double-spaced, and bear the writer’s name and address. Upon acceptance, such contributions become the property of CHRISTIANITY TODAY. Address letters to: Preacher in the Red, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, 1014 Washington Building, Washington 5, D. C.
Chaplain Tracy Early has served as U. S. Army chaplain since 1957. He holds the B.A. degree from Baylor University and the B.D. degree from Southeastern Baptist Seminary.
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Calvin D. Linton
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Great truths are often weakened because the words by which we identify them become so familiar. How rich a theme, for example, is signified by the words which appear somewhere in almost every church bulletin: “worship service.” Let us glance briefly at these words as if we were defining them for the first time. But first, a prefatory comment.
The original harmony of the spheres and the perfection of joy which caused the sons of God to shout have been shattered by discord and rebellion, beginning with Satan’s first “I will not serve” and lasting to the present moment. No longer is it “natural” to conduct oneself in accordance with the divine orderliness which emanates from the being and nature of God, and which unites all creation (save man, the rebel) in a vast and exquisite artifice permeated by the driving force of love, all manifesting itself in total beauty. The satanic temptation is always aimed at the disciplined orderliness of right hierarchy. If creation may be likened to an orchestra (a popular simile in the 17th century), Satan may be likened to a tempter who whispers to the bassoon player: “You are not properly appreciated. You are not being permitted to play loud enough or often enough, and you can’t even make up your own melodies! Play your own way, make up your own tunes—and for heaven’s sake (if you will pardon the expression) play louder!” Such a violation of discipline, of order, of “acceptable service” the Renaissance writers often refer to as violation of “degree,” the divine ladder of hierarchy. And so Shakespeare has Ulysses in Troilus and Cressida say: “O, when degree is shak’d, which is the ladder of all high designs, then enterprise is sick!”
Now all this may seem a “long preamble to a tale” when our only purpose is to engage in a little semantic exercise; yet it is all to the point, for the service of worship implies no less than a completely restored inward and outward harmony for man as he takes his place once more in the perfect order of the kingdom of heaven. From God, the motionless center of the turning wheel, emanate all values, all relationships, all concepts of decorum. And the ultimate decorum which man must relearn shows forth his relationship to the infinite majesty of God and to his creation.
Worship And Communion
As the final comment in our preface we must note an often ignored fact: fallen man is completely unable to worship God in any way whatever. “The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination unto the Lord.” The problem of worship simply does not exist for him, any more than the problem of how to honor and serve his betrayed king existed for the medieval outlaw. The right to serve was an honor deprived the outlaw as a penalty for his rebellion against his monarch’s rule and law. Indeed, the analogy may be pushed a bit further, for just as clearly as the outlaw was able to return to his king’s favor and thus to resume his service only as the king permitted, so clearly can fallen man be restored to citizenship and divine favor only on God’s terms. The pagan, therefore, deceives himself when he thinks he is worshipping God in his humble adoration of the night sky, or in his outpoured libations; and so does the modern, more sophisticated pagan in his self-appointed ritual of culture, or aesthetic response, or even good works. Further, all men do not worship the same God “by whatever sign or name He may be known”—Allah, or Dagon, or the Life Force. (Whatever were the shortcomings of the Crusaders, this is one error they did not make, as they battled the “paymin,” worshippers of Allah!) To all who worship on their own, as it were, come the tragic words: “Ye worship ye know not what.” Worship is not a sort of general spraying in all directions of reverence and awe, to be soaked up by whatever deity exists. It must, rather, be based on communion between two self-conscious beings who know each other.
Worship And Values
Turning at last to our basic definitions, we note that “worship” comes from the Old English “weorthscipe” (Middle English “worschippe”) and that it denotes in its first syllable inherent value, ultimate merit. In short, it is a word primarily relating to a value judgment, and we know that value must be determined within a frame of reference, according to a hierarchy. Most of our value judgments day by day are comparative; that is, we compare the valued object with others of its class or group. Thus in feudal terms, for example, a count is of more “worth” than a baron; a duke is “worthier” than a count—all in “priority, and place, insisture, course, proportion, season, form, office, custom, in all line of order,” as Shakespeare explains.
So when worth is ascribed, one must know within what system of evaluation the term is used. Man’s systems vary with each age, each society, almost each individual, and that which is worthy to one group at any given time is offensive to another. Indeed, there is no more poignant evidence of man’s spiritual confusion, of his “fragmentation,” than his total inability to agree on any single system of establishing that which is good, worthy. Even in evaluating himself, he varies wildly, either shouting with Swinburne “Glory to man in the highest!” or agreeing with Stevenson that man is a mere “disease of agglutinated dust.” Paul warns us not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought, but rather to think of ourselves in terms of the only absolute measure, the only changeless standard, the only infallible system of evaluation—the standards of God. By the terms of righteousness within that divine standard, man’s natural condition is simple and bluntly given in Scripture: “Thou art worthy to die.” But there is another dimension to be included, the infinite measure of God’s love, and by that measure man, though bereft of self-pride, stands immeasurably high, for while we were yet sinners God loved us.
God’S Infinite Worth
For the Christian, then, the word “worth” has only one absolute application: the infinite worth of God. To acknowledge the absolute worth of God is the first step of worship; indeed, it is the first requirement. “Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name.” “I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God besides me.” When the church acknowledges “worth-ship” as it exists totally and uniquely in God it simply joins in with the “voice of many angels around about the throne and the beasts and the elders; and the number of them was ten thousand times the thousands of thousands; saying with a loud voice. Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing.”
Although such an acknowledgement can be made only after man has obeyed God’s command to “turn” to him, it is still simply the first step. The perfect communion with God which each creature seeks must be based on harmony of will and desire, not on intellectualassent alone. So we turn to the original meaning of the two words most often translated “worship” in English; and we find that both “shachah” in the Old Testament and “proskuneo” in the New carry the force of submission, obedience, “to kiss the hand toward someone in token of submission, to bow down in submission.”
Truth And Obedience
This concept takes us into the heart of the mystery of worship. Intellectual truths may be forced on us; the facts may simply overwhelm the mind until we cry out, “Enough! I am convinced.” But at the same time, in the secret place of our heart, we may whisper, “But I will not obey.” Hypocrisy, says Milton, is the only evil whose operation is so entirely inward that only God can know surely when it is present. It is an interesting question whether true submission can be willed. We can force our bodies to make those gestures which indicate submission; but can we by willing so alter our nature as to make it harmonious with, submissive to, a pattern of values foreign to it? To the Christian, of course, the answer is easy: such a change is not alteration; it is re-creation, a new birth, and only God can accomplish it. For the humanist, however, man need obey nothing unless he chooses. He is born with an unextended allegiance which he can, if he wishes, cherish throughout life as a king might his crown. Scripture teaches otherwise. Man is born in the kingdom of Satan and is under his domination. Submission to the will of God, central to worship, is a transferred allegiance, not a pristine bestowal of it. Writes Isaiah: “O Lord our God, other lords besides thee have had dominion over us; but by thee only will we make mention of thy name. They are dead, they shall not live; they are deceased, they shall not rise: therefore hast thou visited and destroyed them, and made all their memory to perish” (26:13–14).
So here again is emphasized the fact that the high privilege of worship is all of grace. God must of his grace reveal himself sufficiently to man for man to acknowledge his being and his worth; but even more of grace is his victorious battle over the power of Satan and of his dark subordinates in our hearts. Man cannot serve two masters, and the evil king we are born under must be driven from his throne by a power mightier than the combined might of man.
Service And Fulfillment
The paragraph above has led us to the term “service.” It is impossible to speak long about “worship” without using the word, for worship exhibits itself outwardly in service. It comes second, but it is not secondary. Man is not a static awareness, a mere abstract state of knowing and submitting; he is a dynamic creature whose very purpose of creation was that he might “serve” God. When he fell he forgot every act and gesture appropriate to true service, for he was completely turned about, completely disoriented. So the detailed ritual of the Mosaic code of worship began to re-train him, to acclimate him once more to heaven.
From all of Scripture we know one thing that “service” does not mean, and that is “performance of labor for the benefit of another.” God did not create man simply because He needed anything done for Him. And yet the thought that when we serve God in worship we do something for which he should be grateful is widespread. It is even supported, innocently, by certain hymns—“God has no hands but mine His work to do,” for example. This attitude is an example of imperfect re-orientation. We are still too steeped in the world’s system of values, even its understanding of love. As T. S. Eliot is fond of pointing out, earthly love is inseparably linked with the idea of exchange, or bartering something we have for something we want. Apart from revelation, indeed, it is unlikely that man could ever imagine motiveless love.
No, the service of worship is not something rendered to God in order that he may generously remunerate us. So we look further down the list of definitions until we come to one emerging from the philosophy and the social structure of the middle ages. (And the feudal system, whatever were its human perversions and injustices in practice, shows forth in its ideal concept the nature of divine orderliness better than any other system.) There, we note, “service” had the sense of being permitted to do that which fulfilled and enriched the person so serving. When the knight was permitted to serve his lady, or the liegeman his lord, he was (under the ideal if not the reality) given freedom to be his best self, to exercise his capacities as they were meant to be exercised, to become a living, working part of the whole beautiful, divinely ordained structure. Service was a privilege, an honor, a release from unworthy servitude. It was motivated by reference, gratitude, and love.
And so first and foremost, our service to God consists of living as we were originally intended to live, in obedience and perfect love. Such service is freedom because such living, for the recreated creature is natural. God created us for his glory, and our purpose is to glorify him and enjoy him forever. This is our “acceptable service.” We can never live it fully in this life—the process of perfection is not completed—but we can practice.
Then we look at one more pertinent definition: “service” as “an office of devotion” performed by a priest. It was the priest, we know, who under the Mosaic law was “ordained to offer gifts and sacrifices,” “to serve” before the Lord. Under grace, every Christian is entered into the priesthood of all believers and is thus similarly “ordained.” In a very significant way, this fact most clearly exemplifies the whole wonderful meaning of worship, for it shows a rebellion overthrown, a breach healed, an evil covered, a communion restored.
Since, then, service emanates from a living relationship, our service of worship is continuous, as continuous as those who serve before the thunderous throne itself in heaven. The condition of the believer is not one of normal, everyday separation from God occasionally interrupted by periods when he is admitted to the Divine Presence. Rather it is one of permanent restoration to a vital relationship. In this life, however, this truth is never fully realized; so it is proper, and sanctioned by Scripture, that man should from time to time celebrate in a particular way his restored relationship to his Creator. And it is right, too, that these worship services should be made so decorous and comely that the spiritual reality is shown forth in pleasing outward signs. What in detail constitutes appropriate ritual is a matter of endless discussion among the various denominations, and it is no part of this writing to touch on the problem. But one thing is clear: any detail of the ritual which ignores, weakens, or contradicts any spiritual reality underlying the outward form is improper at best, offensive to God at worst.
Really, everything is summed up in a command and a promise. The command: “Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the father by him.” And the promise: “If a man love me, he will keep my words: and my father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.”
END
“Not Every One—”
I call thee Lord, Lord—
Glibly as a priest
Who knows the music of thy word
But nothing of its yeast.
I call thee Saviour dear
With unctious piety—
Yet, somehow, never walk too near
Danger or strife for thee.
I call thee Master, Christ,
With cheerful voice and hollow—
Yet I have never even priced
The road that Thee would follow!
JOHN BEAUCHAMP THOMPSON
Calvin D. Linton is Dean of Columbian College of George Washington University in the District of Columbia. He holds the A.B. degree from George Washington University, and the A.M. and Ph.D. degrees from Johns Hopkins University. His address on “The Service of Worship” was delivered to the Christian Business Men’s Committee of Washington.
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The penchant of the Roman Catholic for politics is well known. It extends both to laymen and clerics. The nexus of many a municipal political machine has been a close liaison between parish priest and diocesan bishop, on the one hand, and the boss, on the other. New York City, Boston, and Chicago offer ready examples. In New York City where 80 per cent of the Catholics regularly vote the Democratic ticket, no Protestant would have a chance to be mayor. In Massachusetts, from Boss Curley’s time, the dominant political power has been Roman Catholic. It is axiomatic that no man can be nominated on the Democratic ticket without the nod of Cardinal Cushing. No Protestant could possibly be elected mayor of Chicago today because of the large “Catholic vote.” In 1959 the Mayoral race featured Catholics on both major tickets and another Catholic on a third party ticket.
On the national scene Roman Catholic political power is a formidable front unparalleled by organized Protestantism. The Catholic role has been that of king maker rather than king. While there has been an unwritten rule that the presidential nominee of the Democratic party must not be Catholic, there has been an equally prevailing rule that the chairman of the national committee must always be Catholic.
Now the Catholic genius for politics is taking a new direction. It turns from king-maker to king. It would like, perhaps, to achieve in the nation what it has already achieved in New York, Boston, and Chicago. It is challenging the prevailing rule (disastrously disregarded once) that no major party nominee can be of Roman Catholic faith. A ground swell within this communion advocates abandonment of the traditional taboo. This sentiment converges on Senator John F. Kennedy of Massachusetts, whose assets in seeking the Democratic nomination are his youthful charm and his father’s unlimited financial resources.
The Laity Want It
The inspiration beyond the Kennedy drive is lay rather than clerical. Catholic clerics have thrived so notably as political king makers and deployers of political influence that they have seen little need to change the role. They have not forgotten the Al Smith debacle of 1928. Clerics who have traditionally preferred a “cooperative” Protestant to a Catholic in office have been moved by the enthusiasm among the laity. The late Cardinal Stritch, Archbishop William C. Brady, and Bishop John J. Wright all have urged the desirability of a Catholic candidate for President. Cardinal Cushing has long been pleading for Kennedy’s nomination. “Prejudice Has Disappeared,” “Religion No Factor in Election”—so run the headlines. The Jesuit publication America has even argued that the desirable 1960 candidate for President, if not a Catholic, ought to have a Catholic as running mate. This applies to both parties, America contends, for if the Democrats nominate Kennedy, the Republicans will need a Catholic on the ticket to offset Kennedy’s appeal to Catholic voters. Many published comments seem designed to throw an aura of invincibility about a Catholic candidate, as though mere nomination of a Catholic—any Catholic—would assure election.
The reaction of Protestants to this drive for a Catholic candidate appears confused. It seems to waver between panic, on the one hand, and slobbering sentimentality, on the other. Some Protestants appear determined to vote for a Catholic candidate just to prove how unbigoted and tolerant they are. Others are determined to vote against any nominee who is Catholic just because he is Catholic. One wonders about the sensibility of either attitude. All candidates, of course, should be analyzed on the basis of their record, ability, and integrity. The well-groomed effort to run a Catholic for President is understandable. The Catholic ambition to attain to the Presidency represents an emotional drive. Many Roman Catholics have suffered from inferiority feelings because of immigrant backgrounds and traditionally lower educational and economic statuses. For many Catholics the idea of a fellow member as President undoubtedly represents a “compensation” feeling. Such a distinction would help “prove” to themselves that they really belong. It has been estimated that as high as 85 per cent of Catholic voters might support any Catholic candidate.
Well, Why Not?
Well, why not? Perhaps a Catholic in the White House would contribute to Roman Catholic political maturity. This would be to the good. There is, however, another factor to be considered where a candidate of Roman Catholic faith is concerned. This is the “conflict of interest” issue involving church directives and United States civil practice. The Roman Catholic church claims absolute obedience of its members on all moral and spiritual issues. (This sphere, of course, includes virtually everything, or can be made to.) We must note also that the hierarchy of this church does have a political program for the United States which it is striving by political means to achieve. This political program envisages state subsidies for its educational operations. The hierarchy defines this as a “moral issue” by stating that it involves “freedom of choice” in education for Catholic parents. Practically all the highest leaders of American Catholicism, including the bishops, the National Catholic Welfare Conference, and all official journals, have supported the drive to obtain these subsidies.
The First Amendment to the Federal Constitution, as repeatedly interpreted by the courts, and the constitutions and statutes of most states, stands squarely athwart this ambition of the church. The whole weight of Catholic Action has been squarely thrown into this struggle to change traditional Church-State pattern in favor of a new arrangement which would bring a billion and a half dollars in tax funds annually into the coffers of the Roman church.
A candidate of Roman Catholic faith is uniquely suspect on this issue. Would he not be inclined, if elected President, to further this subsidy program for his church more than a member of some other denomination in the same office? Would not the Catholic be less inclined to uphold the Constitution and the laws which forbid such expenditures? Would not a Catholic feel morally obligated as a Catholic to favor his church’s clearly articulated program on such an issue?
Catholic Action In Congress
Credence is lent to these fears by such activity as that of Catholic Congressman John W. McCormack (Dem., Mass.) who unabashedly uses his great power as majority leader of the House to secure financial grants for his church. It has been estimated that McCormack is personally responsible for legislation which, under various categories, has brought public funds of more than $30,000,000 to the institutions of his church. As one observer put it: “If a mere Congressman can do what John McCormack has done, what could a President accomplish?”
It should be pointed out, however, that the situation of a Catholic in the White House is substantially different from that of a Catholic in Representative McCormack’s position. McCormack lives among priest-minded Catholics. He needs no Protestant votes, and never gives them a thought. Quite otherwise would be the situation with a President. How well Senator Kennedy realizes this is demonstrated by his Church-State credo proclaimed in Look magazine, March 3, 1959. The senator asserted that his civil responsibilities as an office holder would take precedence over the demands of the leaders of his church, should there be a conflict. He even spelled out this conflict in the specific instance we have cited here. He said that he would uphold the Constitution and the courts’ interpretation of it in the matter of public subsidies to parochial schools. He went still further by saying that in no case would directives of his church “take precedence over (my) oath to uphold the Constitution in all its parts—including the First Amendment and the strict separation of Church and State.”
These statements are clarifying—even more so than Al Smith’s famous credo in 1928. There remains, nevertheless, this fact—that any Catholic as the nation’s chief executive would be under implicit but sustained pressure from his church where “conflict of interest” is involved. To be sure, every man in the White House operates under pressures. The Catholic official would have all the regular pressures, plus. He would have, in addition, the constant pressure of his church on the school issue, on issues involving birth control, procedures in public hospitals, family welfare measures, and all issues involving “natural law” (that is, Roman Catholic law) and, indeed, on any issue of the church’s choosing. The rather grim aspect of such pressure is the fact that back of it there always lies the silent threat of those terrifying penalties which their church has the power to inflict upon the faithful.
The grave view which the Roman church itself takes on the matter of a layman’s independence is to be noted in its instantaneous critical reaction to the senator’s attempt to proclaim his independence of clerical pressures. Senator Kennedy was almost unanimously assaulted by the Catholic diocesan papers and even by the so-called “laymen’s publication,” Commonweal. There was marked bitterness because of his stand on the church school subsidy. As The Monitor put it, Senator Kennedy will not “succeed in sweeping under the rug the question of a square deal in distribution of tax aid to education.”
Pressure And Counter Pressure
While not so formidable as the pressure from his own church, there would certainly be counter pressures on the Catholic President. There would be prompt Protestant and Jewish resentments were he to appear to be “doing too much for the Catholics.” Publicity as a Catholic Actionist, which Representative McCormack has almost miraculously avoided, would be impossible for a President to escape. Suspicious eyes would be focused on his every act. The hierarchy understand this and have not been eager to have a Catholic in the White House. But now they are committed. They are committed to Kennedy, who, if nominated, will get “the Catholic vote” no matter what the diocesan papers say and no matter who is on the other ticket. They have apparently decided to sacrifice something in the way of financial benefits for the prestige of having a Catholic in the White House.
This does not mean that a Roman Catholic President would have vetoed such church benefit bills as the nearly $1,000,000 “war damage” bill to refurbish the Pope’s summer palace, or the various “war claims” that have poured millions into the Catholic parishes of the Philippines, or the special benefit bills for Catholic hospitals. It is not inconceivable, however, that a Catholic President might have quietly discouraged such legislation because he would not want to be embarrassed by it. A Protestant such as Mr. Eisenhower, could not do such a thing without being castigated as “anti-Catholic”—a designation which a Catholic President would avoid by definition. Some maneuvering of this kind would actually benefit a Catholic President who could thus gain stature as “being fair.”
The shoe must also be tried on the other foot. If a Roman Catholic as President might be suspect on the matter of “helping the Catholics,” why would not a Protestant as President be suspect in helping the Protestants? The answer is simple: he would not be helping them because there is nothing he could help them with. Protestants have no designs on the public treasury. They are not out for an ambassador to their chief. They are not trying to “get something” from the government as Protestants. So far as “Protestant interests” are concerned no more financial benefit would ensue were a Protestant a President than if an atheist were President.
It does, of course, help the Protestants to have in the office a man of genuine personal faith and holy habits. President Eisenhower’s consistent church attendance has been a stimulus to the church enterprise. But this involves no program of political action and helps Catholic churches as well as Protestant.
Chain Reaction
The stimulus which a Catholic President might lend to Catholic subsidy demands could well be quite indirect. In 1954 Edmund Muskie was elected governor of Maine, the first Catholic to hold the office. Of five major places on his ticket four were filled by Catholics. The Democratic Party in Maine has become identified as the party of Catholic Action. No sooner had Governor Muskie been inaugurated than Bishop Daniel J. Feeney of Maine launched a political attack on Senator Margaret Chase Smith concerning an issue, two years old, over which she had no jurisdiction.
Shortly after Muskie began his term, demands for bus transportation to Roman Catholic schools at public expense began to echo over the state. In Augusta, priests, angered because their demands were not immediately met, threatened to “dump” 900 parochial pupils on the public schools the following Monday. Governor Muskie was not back of this intemperate drive, but it did develop coincident with his election.
In the state of Washington Albert D. Rosellini was elected governor, the first Catholic to hold that office. Swept in with him were a lieutenant governor, secretary of state, attorney general, insurance commissioner, speaker of the House, majority leader of the House, president pro-tem of the Senate, and majority floor leader of the Senate—all of Roman Catholic faith. Campaign literature and marked sample ballots had been handed out in some Catholic churches. Following the election, the Catholic lobby descended on Olympia with a Catholic Action legislative program calling for various kinds of subsidies to parochial schools and a proposal to revise the state constitution so as to remove barriers against the use of public funds for church activities.
In Ohio, the successful campaign of the second Roman Catholic governor in the state’s history, Michael V. DiSalle, quickly benefited his church. Two days before the voting, a Protestant attorney general handed down an opinion which approved placing garbed nuns on the public pay roll as teachers in public schools. Hardly had the new regime taken office when another ruling, rendered by prosecuting Attorney John T. Corrigan of Cuyahoga County (Cleveland), gave the green light to bus transportation to church schools at public expense in that area. These big breaks for parochial schools were not Governor DiSalle’s work, but was his triumph the occasion for them?
Election of David Lawrence as the first Roman Catholic governor of Pennsylvania was followed by demands for revision of the state constitution to make possible use of public funds for sectarian hospitals. A movement supported by “citizens’ committees” was clamoring for a further constitutional amendment which would permit parochial bus transportation at public expense. In Colorado the victory of Stephen L. R. McNichols as the first Roman Catholic governor had as one of its first consequences a bill for transportation to parochial schools supported by tax funds.
Would the election of a Catholic as chief executive set off a chain reaction of Catholic demands throughout the nation?
Collateral Results
There could be further collateral results that would not make Protestants happy. Catholic Action would undoubtedly attempt to parlay the first Catholic nominee (in either the first or second place) into a concept of religious “parity” on major tickets. This concept has already been established in New York where, in 1958, the logical nominee, Finletter, had to be passed over because the Protestant, Harriman, had to have a Catholic running mate on the ticket. So the implication well be made that in order to present a “balanced” ticket there must be a Catholic in one of the places. Catholic Action has worked hard and long to achieve this concept in the military chaplaincy. With only about 25 per cent of the personnel they are now within sight of attaining 50–50 parity in the top jobs. The idea is gaining that either the chief or his deputy must always be Catholic.
Still another result which Protestants fear in a Catholic President is a sympathetic explosion of public displays of the Roman Catholic faith. Most Catholic politicians do not seem to understand the subtleties of a system like ours. They dote on public demonstrations of their denominational symbols and observances. Roman Catholicism is a majority faith in many areas of this country. As a majority faith Catholics frequently show insensitivity to the religious sensibilities of those who do not share their faith. They may flaunt their religious practices and virtually force them on the entire community. They have an astonishing faculty for never suspecting that the symbol or observance which inspires them may be shocking and abhorrent to persons of another faith.
A Catholic Actionist in an official position may arrange for a denominational statue to be placed in a public site—on the highway, on the river, in a park. Catholic Actionists of the Holy Name Society have embarked upon a program to dedicate various branches of the United States armed forces to patron saints of their denomination—St. Maurice, St. Barbara, St. Michael, St. Sebastian and so forth. No doubt they were amazed at the hostility their program evoked among service men. A Catholic Actionist in charge of a satellite launching attached to it a sectarian medal to publicize his church. In various areas where they predominate, Catholics have seized control of the public schools, staffed them with nun teachers and introduced the catechism and practices of the Roman Church.
Catholic Actionists who head departments seem to regard it as a part of their religious practice to load the department with their co-religionists. This is a performance which Protestants neither duplicate nor comprehend. Finally, as we have already seen, the election of a Roman Catholic to a responsible post tends to send his co-religionists rushing to the legislature with a pack of subsidy bills for their church.
It is an immature concept of public function which Protestants fear in a Catholic President. They fear, too, a daily circus of priests and nuns parading in full regalia in and out of the White House to the accompaniment of endless photos on the front pages, the back pages, and the middle pages. Many of these matters involve no exercise of presidential prerogatives at all. They are matters of taste, matters of restraint on the part of the Roman Catholic church and its press agents. This is a large area in which Catholics, both lay and clerical, have much to learn. Evidence that they have learned and are learning would ease the ways to fulfillment of what is apparently a consuming Catholic ambition—a Roman Catholic President.
END
C. Stanley Lowell is Managing Editor of Church State Review and Associate Director of Protestants and Other Americans United. A Methodist clergyman, he holds the B.A. degree from Asbury College, M.A. from Duke, and B.D. from Yale Divinity School. His article in Christianity Today, “The Rising Tempo of Rome’s Demands,” reached a million people.
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Cover Story
James B. Green
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The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews does not definitely affirm that Christianity is the ultimate religion, but the thought flashes and shimmers between the lines. What he sets himself to prove is that Christianity is better than Judaism, which was better than any other religion of that time. It follows then that Christianity was the best religion yet to appear. I think the author of Hebrews would go further and affirm that Christianity is absolute, and that no religion superior to it can ever arise.
What is the author’s conception of religion? What end is in view, as the central idea and object of religion? Is it not that of union and communion with God, access to and fellowship with divine reality? Is not religion, every religion, meant to be a method of escape and a method of access? Escape from what? Access to what? It is an escape from sin and evil of every sort, and an access to the source of life and all blessings.
The real test of any religion is this: Does it answer the purpose of religion? Does it enable its votaries to arrive? Does it bring the worshiper to a state of rest at the seat and center of reality? Does it lead to the perfect life and establish the perfect fellowship? If so, it is the true religion, the absolute and final, the religion of truth. It can never be superseded, nor have a successor in the purpose of God or the experience of man. For it realizes the idea of religion by accomplishing fully, finally, and forever the object for which religion exists. No one will question the ultimate supremacy and finality of the perfect.
Perfect Revelation
Can it be shown, therefore, that Christianity is this perfect religion? Does it give satisfaction and rest of mind and soul by bringing the seeker into possession of the object of his quest? We believe it does.
How does it do this? 1. By a perfect revelation of the object of man’s quest. 2. By a perfect removal of the obstacle in the way of approach to that object. 3. By a perfect reconciliation and renewal of man’s soul after the image of God.
First, the object of quest in religion is God. God cannot be found out by searching on the part of man. He can be known only as He chooses to reveal himself. God has been pleased to reveal Himself. He has come out of eternity into time, has appeared in human form, and has spoken in human language.
The Epistle to the Hebrews opens with this arresting statement: “God, having of old time spoken unto the fathers in the prophets by divers portions and in divers manners, hath at the end of these days spoken unto us in his Son.” “Hath … spoken.” How formerly? Partially, variously. How finally? At the end of these days in his Son—that is, fully and finally. The Son knoweth the Father perfectly; no one else does. What could one do or say after all that was said and done by the Son? God’s Son is God’s last word to man, because there is nothing lacking. The revelation is complete, and therefore final.
Perfect Removal
The obstacles in the way of approach to God is sin. Jesus came to take away that obstacle. “Behold, the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).
Judaism did not take away sin; it could not. No other religion besides Christianity can. Why? Because the mediators and means in other religions are unsuitable, insufficient, and ineffective. For example, the agents of Judaism—the prophets, priests, psalmists, and kings—were imperfect, by their own admission were imperfect in themselves, in their offerings, and in their service. What was true in these respects of Judaism is even more true of other religions. These systems, in their total sum and service, come short of perfection. Their agents and agencies are of the earth and of time, being shadows, symbols, types, unreal, and without effect in the sphere of the spiritual.
Of every high priest (except One) it is written that he is bound by reason of infirmity, as for his people, so for himself, to offer for sins (Heb. 5:3). As to the value of such offerings, this is the writer’s testimony:
For the law having a shadow of the good things to come, not the very image of the things, can never with the same sacrifices year by year, which they offer continually, make perfect them that draw nigh. Else would they have not ceased to be offered? Because the worshippers, having been once cleansed, would have had no more consciousness of sins. But in those sacrifices there is a remembrance made of sins year by year. For it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sins (Heb. 10:1–4).
Turning from these things which belong to the realm of the shadowy and unreal, let us consider the author of the Christian religion, the Apostle and High Priest of our religion, even Jesus.
According to the Book, He was and is perfect, having been made perfect (by divine appointment, by the constitution of his person, and by his experience in life) for the thing he came to do, namely to bring many sons out of sin and shame to God and glory. He was perfect in relation to God, being himself God; perfect in relation to man, being himself man; perfect in character, being sinless, holy, undefiled; separate from sinners, made higher than the heavens (Heb. 7:26); perfect therefore in his qualifications to reveal God and remove sin to reconcile God and the sinner and to renew the sinner unto the image of God.
The perfect efficacy of his mediation, revelation, expiation, and sanctification is due to two things:
The nature of his priesthood. It was not an official one, made by law of carnal commandment, inherited, and shared with others as was Aaron’s; rather, it was personal, original, eternal, without beginning or end like that of Melchizedek. His priesthood was grounded in his only and eternal Sonship. “Thou art my son,” said God (Ps. 2:7); “Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek” (Ps. 110:4). Jesus was priest by virtue of inherent and inalienable right. His priesthood was not passed to him by a predecessor, nor passed by him to a successor. His priesthood, by virtue of its nature, was solitary in its exercise and sovereign in its effectiveness.
The nature of his offering. Every high priest is appointed to offer both gifts and sacrifices; wherefore, it was necessary that this high priest also have somewhat to offer (Heb. 8:3). Our heavenly high priest offered the Lamb of God, which was himself, the antitype of all the lambs slain on Jewish altars. This Lamb did what all other sacrificial lambs pointed to, but could not reach, namely, the removal of sin. “Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.” For “once at the end of the ages hath he been manifested to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself” (Heb. 9:26).
The great High Priest of Christianity, royal and righteous, holy and undefiled, of God divine, of man human, a Son perfected forevermore, hath, by one offering of himself, perfected forever them that are sanctified (Heb. 10:14). Why? Because of the nature of his offering. It was personal, not animal; rational, not irrational; free, not forced; voluntary, not compulsory as were the offerings of Judaism; therefore, it was ethical and possessed of moral worth and power.
In the Christian religion, priest and victim, offerer and offering, sacrificer and sacrifice, are one and the same, together making a complete transaction, exhausting the idea of priesthood, and filling full the whole intention of religion. This consummate sacrifice accomplished perfectly the aim of all sacrifice and so made an end of sacrificial offerings. For where remission of sins is, there is no more offering for sin (Heb. 10:18).
It is noteworthy that within a few years after the death of Christ, the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and the sacrificial offerings of Jewish worship came to an end. Those who looked upon Christ as a sacrifice soon ceased to offer to God any bloody sacrifice at all. And wherever the Christian message penetrated, sacrificial altars were deserted and dealers in sacrificial beasts found no purchasers. If there is one thing that is certain in the history of religion, it is that the death of Christ put an end to all bloody sacrifice in the worship of God. Why? Because the aim and object of such sacrifices had been fully accomplished. To continue them would have been useless, even sinful. Here is an illustration of the truth: “When that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away” (1 Cor. 13:10).
What have we shown in all this? Two things, namely that the revelation of God in Christ is complete, and therefore final; and that the removal of sin by Christ is complete, therefore final. “When he had made purification of sins, he sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high” (Heb. 1:3). He sat down because this phase of his task had been finished.
Perfect Reconciliation
A third thing follows: the reconciliation of God and of man. With sin removed, a way, a new and living way, has been opened into the presence of God where there is favor and forgiveness and fellowship forevermore. Since Christian religion accomplishes these three things, it is rightly called the perfect religion and, therefore, the final religion. Finality is equivalent to eternality. The everlastingness of Christ’s work is abundantly asserted in Hebrews. Thus: Christ’s blood is the blood of an eternal covenant; he offered himself through the eternal spirit; he obtained eternal redemption; he has become the author of eternal salvation; and he enables men to get hold of the eternal inheritance. Finality belongs only to the complete. Permanence is the property of the perfect.
In confirmation of this argument from the Epistle to the Hebrews, we should consider these questions:
Is not the incarnation of the Son of God the final step of God’s approach to man? Can you imagine a closer relation between the divine and the human?
Is not the death of the incarnate Son of God for sinners the final expression of God’s love?
Is not the resurrection of Christ the ultimate disclosure of life and immortality, the perfect proof of the power of life over death?
Is not the sinless manhood of Christ the ultimate goal conceivable of human life? Can you conceive of a higher destiny for man than Christlikeness?
The ascension of Christ and his session at the right hand of the Majesty on high is a symbol of his finality. He ascended to the throne of God over the world. Two corollaries follow from the finality of Christianity:
It is the only true religion, the one and only way to God. If there had been a religion before Christ that brought men and God together in holy and happy relationship, there would have been no need for his coming. Had there been another way than Jesus, Peter never could have said, “There is none other name under heaven that is given among men, wherein we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). The notion so common today that all religions are ways to God is thoroughly unscriptural.
The Christian religion is destined to replace all so-called religions. Since Christianity is the only true religion, it is clearly our duty to give Christianity to all mankind. And we may undertake the great enterprise in full confidence of ultimate success. The real must displace the unreal, the true must triumph over the false, the best must in the end prevail.
END
James Benjamin Green served 1921–50 as Professor of Theology in Columbia Theological Seminary, Decatur, Georgia, where the chair of theology has been endowed in his name.
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Stuart Barton Babbage
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The ancient Greeks knew that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” Over the Greek Temple at Delphi the words were inscribed: Know thyself. They knew the importance of self-knowledge as the key to all other knowledge. A number of theologians have recently drawn attention to the need for serious self-examination in relation to the work of the Church in general and the work of theological training in particular.
David Paton has edited an important volume entitled, Essays in Anglican Self-Criticism. Its purpose, he says, “is to draw attention to some of these intractable longer-term issues which lend themselves so well to formulation on the agenda of a committee or a conference, but which can be seen sooner or later to be of central importance.”
This attitude of self-concern is a healthy and encouraging sign. Reformed Churches are aware of the necessity for continual reformation according to the Word of God, and this activity demands self-scrutiny and self-examination. If it is necessary in relation to the activities of the institutional church, it is even more necessary in relation to the task of theological training, for the kind of ministers we get will depend to a great extent on the kind of training we give.
It was Richard Niebuhr who set the ball rolling by his study of The Purpose of the Church and Ministry (Reflections on the Aims of Theological Education)—a study which was sponsored and financed by the Carnegie Corporation of New York at a cost of 65,000 dollars. This study was simply a factual record of an existing state of affairs. It underlined the fragmentation which has occurred, and the fact that the curriculum “is a collection of studies rather than a course of study.” Niebuhr endeavored to analyze the nature of the malaise which at present afflicts theological training. “During the course of the last two or three generations the theological curriculum has been ‘enriched’—like vitamin-impregnated bread—by the addition of a long series of short courses in sociology and social problems, rural and urban sociology, the theory of religious education, educational psychology, methods of religious education, psychology of religion, psychology of personality, psychology of counseling, methods of pastoral counseling, theory of missions, history of missions, methods of evangelism, theory and practice of worship, public speaking, administration, et cetera, et cetera.” The inevitable result has been the neglect of the more traditional subjects of biblical studies.
The process of self-scrutiny has been carried a stage further by John McIntyre who succeeded John Baillie as Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Edinburgh. His contribution has added interest for those of us who live in the Antipodes, for McIntyre was Principal of St. Andrew’s College, Sydney, prior to his appointment to Edinburgh. He draws heavily on his experiences in Australia in the formulation of his conclusions.
McIntyre asks the pertinent questions: where are we going? what are we trying to do? He points out that there are two distinct kinds of theological training: the American, designed to produce in the student certain specific skills and techniques; and the British, concerned not with skills or techniques, but with “disciplines and discipline necessary in every ministry” (The Expository Times, April 1959). “The disciplines are those of the four or five basic academic subjects; and the discipline is that of a well-trained mind, which can discern the problem and make reasonable efforts to solve it.”
The courses provided in an American seminary “have in themselves no structure whatever; they are a list of classes. The student imposes order upon the chaos and he does so in terms of the kind of skills which he is likely to require in the type of ministry which he intends to perform.”
McIntyre makes it clear which system he prefers: “My own judgment is that the linguistic basis of our curriculum provides the disciplines and the discipline in the prime instance; and that with the disappearance of seriousness on the part of many of our students in this regard, the re-enforcement, the strengthening, has gone from our structure. The result of this is not just that these students are lazy about Greek and Hebrew: they are just so much slower in coming to terms with a complicated piece of Trinitarian theology or Kantian philosophy. The lack of discipline induced by the ambiguous relation in which they stand to the basic disciplines has produced what I can only call a fluffiness in their attitude to other subjects.”
McIntyre points out that the principle of a thorough academic training as a necessary prerequisite for the mastery of particular techniques has been adopted in other spheres. He states: “Certain of the larger industrial houses have invited to join their executive staffs Honours graduates in Arts with literally no knowledge of the techniques of the industry, solely on the assumption that a trained mind will make its contribution whatever the sphere in which it operates.”
Australian theological colleges have not resolved this problem. (Some colleges are not even aware that a problem exists.) The British system has been transplanted to Australia, but there is an increasing hankering after the American system. The consequence has been the addition of techniques to the heavy demands of a traditional course. Many colleges, concurrently with lectures on biblical and historical theology, biblical languages and church history, now provide courses on pastoralia, pastoral psychology, practical psychiatry, religious education, group dynamics, elocution, and so forth. The result is a conglomerate course over-weighted with the demands of assignments and “practical work” in the techniques of various specialties.
In one college the awareness of these tensions has led to a drastic redrafting of the whole theological course. In the future, during the first three years of training, students will be required to address themselves, without distraction, to the acquisition of theological learning: to the study of biblical languages, the study of the Old and New Testament, the study of theology, the study of Church history. From this three year course all so called practical subjects will be rigorously excluded. The final year or years will be devoted to the application of the knowledge already acquired to the several spheres of social life and ministerial responsibility. The study of these several specialties will be theological rather than sociological: the theological knowledge gained and the insights learned will then be applied within the context concerned. In this way the sovereignty of God will be rightly acknowledged, and God will be seen to be the Author and the Giver of every good and perfect gift.
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Edward John Carnell
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Depth Psychology
Theology of Culture, by Paul Tillich (Oxford University Press, 1959, 213 pp., $4), is reviewed by Edward John Carnell, Professor of Apologetics, Fuller Theological Seminary.
Tillich has synthesized German speculation and American pragmatism. Depth psychology, with its roots in the Viennese school, is the key to this synthesis. Freud recovered the symbolism of common grace by accepting people who were unacceptable. Grace communicates a sense of worth. “You cannot help people who are in psychosomatic distress by telling them what to do. You can help them only by giving them something—by accepting them.”
Within this pragmatic climate Tillich dilates the more speculative aspects of his system. Christology, for example, answers to man’s search for self-realization. “There is a power from beyond existence which for us is verifiable by participation. This gives quite a different type of Christology. Christ is the place where the New Reality is completely manifest because in him every moment, the anxiety of finitude and the existential conflicts are overcome. That is his divinity.” To separate the threads of Biblical truth from this skein of speculative error will require considerable patience and theological skill.
Philosophy’S Autonomy
Tillich evacuates Scripture of its dogmatic rights by contending that philosophy enjoys autonomy in “the description of the structures and categories of being itself and of the logos in which being becomes manifest. Any interference of theology with these tasks of philosophy and science is destructive for theology itself.” One could only wish that the matter were this easy. Tillich, it would seem, has made an unfortunate concession to worldly wisdom.
Relieved of dogmatic theology, Tillich seldom misses a chance to depress those elements in Scripture that fall outside his system. The account of the virgin birth, for example, is “a most obviously legendary story, unknown to Paul and to John. It is a late creation, trying to make understandable the full possession of the divine Spirit of Jesus of Nazareth.” This hypothesis may be fashionable in critical circles, but it is void of accuracy. Some enterprising reader ought to send Tillich a copy of J. Gresham Machen, The Virgin Birth of Christ. If we neglect the historical elements in Christianity out of a zeal to defend the transcendent elements, we exhibit a very poor understanding of Christianity.
Culture’S Influence
When we ask Tillich why he builds his system on those parts of Scripture that he himself considers important, he replies in a somewhat disarming tone. First, he takes refuge in Protestant liberty. “There is no pope in Protestantism, and if the Bible speaks, it speaks to us. Not only is there no pope, there is no council of bishops, no presbyters, no voting of church members on these matters.” Second, he appeals to the way in which the church has conducted itself in previous cultures. Culture, he believes, dictates the church’s attitude toward the Gospel. “Easter is by far the most important festival of the Russian church. In the medieval church, it was the anxiety resulting from the social and spiritual chaos following the breakup of the Roman Empire which produced the transcendent-sacramental foundation of a hierarchical system to guide society and individuals. In the Reformation it was the anxiety of guilt and the message of justification which was decisive for every formula of all the Reformers. In modern Protestantism it has been the message of a religious cultural unity in view of a more personalistic—and in America, more social—conception of the Kingdom of God as a religious cultural unity.”
Critical Attitude
For the benefit of readers who are nervously waiting to learn whether Tillich is propagating heresy, a consolatory announcement can be made with dispatch. By no stretch of Christian charity can Tillich’s theology be considered consistently Biblical.
When we place Tillich on the Index, however, have we really accomplished anything constructive? Hardly. Christ did not shed his blood, that we should spend our days as spiritual vultures, feeding on the carrion of other people’s shortcomings.
The fact remains, and no orthodox remonstrance can change a line of it, that cultured people will continue to read Tillich, and with no small profit, either. Tillich, for example, defines sin as estrangement—“estrangement from oneself, from the other man, from the ground out of which we come and to which we go.” At first blush this seems to contradict the confessional definition of sin as “any want of conformity unto, or transgression of, the law of God.” But it may turn out, on more careful inspection, that the two definitions are quite friendly. Estrangement is a want of fellowship, and a want of fellowship is sin. Love is the law of life.
Although Tillich prefers speculation to exegesis, he yet is one of the most stimulating thinkers of our day. He is energetically trying to make faith relevant. And that is more than can be said of many who boast possession of the divine oracles.
Being Accepted
Tillich challenges culture on the analogy between the gift of God’s grace and the expressions of kindness in therapeutic psychology. God accepts people who are unacceptable. “This, of course, includes the reformation point of view, a view which has also been rediscovered by medicine, namely, you must feel that you have been accepted. Only then can one accept himself. It is never the other way around. That was the plight of Luther in his struggle against the distorted late Roman Church which wanted ‘that men make themselves first acceptable and then God would accept them.’ But it is always the other way around. First you must be accepted. Then you can accept yourself, and that means, you can be healed.” The church has been culpably tardy in applying Freudian insights to the biblical doctrines of original sin, common grace, and justification.
Since confessional Christianity tends to be anachronous in its thought forms, Tillich may seem more radical than he really is. In any event, Tillich is here to stay. Even if a critic rejects everything Tillich says—an almost impossible situation—Tillich will nonetheless force the critic to do some very serious searching of soul. And who knows what may come of this? For if the critic were to show a little more concern for Tillich’s truth, Tillich might show a little more concern for Tillich’s error.
EDWARD JOHN CARNELL
Witness To Others
The Gospel in Dispute, The Relation of Christian Faith to Other Missionary Religions, by Edmund Perry (Doubleday, 1958, 230 pp., $3.95), is reviewed by Paul R. Pulliam, Minister of Christian Education, Gray-stone United Presbyterian Church, Indiana, Pennsylvania.
If all the authors writing these days were to handle their material the way Edmund Perry does, fewer books would have to be read. One of the refreshing things about The Gospel in Dispute is that while a mass of information is treated, broad problems and their solutions are never overlooked. Furthermore, it is a book which can be read with great profit whether the reader agrees with Dr. Perry’s theological bias or not.
Quite rightly Dr. Perry begins his book by justifying the need for it. Why raise the question of missions? Perry states: “As much as we may reluct to admit it, the Church in the West is environed and defied by a culture as hostile to Christian faith as any in the world … multitudes … refuse to consider the Christian faith as still in any sense a living option” (p. 4). He further asserts that the Church, in a time of crucial missionary opportunities, is being sapped by inward confusion as to her nature and purpose. Finally, Christianity can no longer rest at ease as the single missionary effort in a pagan-darkened world; she is in competition with indomitable faiths which are unwilling to “take” the blows of Christian missions but are ready to “deal” a few themselves.
Chapters two and three comprise a perceptive summary of modern biblical theological studies on the message of the Bible. That message maintains that the people of God have in all times and places been called upon to abandon the haunts of their own “native” faith and repudiate those of other peoples; but this has been to the purpose of discovering themselves so related to other peoples that they are not authentically the people of God unless they are first and foremost missionaries! These chapters will make helpful reading for any who will be following the discussion proposed for the forthcoming Brazil meeting of The World Presbyterian Alliance under the theme, “The Servant Lord and His Servant People.” Dr. Perry’s digression into biblical theology has sharp relevance to his conclusion that the nature of our biblical faith will define our motive and method for approaching other religions.
To this method of approach chapter four is devoted, and it forms the most significant contribution of the book. Dr. Perry’s stress is that before we can effectively witness to a non-Christian religion we must understand what makes the non-Christian tick. Until we have vitally entered into an understanding of another religion so that it has had opportunity to lay claim to our own lives, just as it has claimed the lives of its sincere devotees, we cannot honestly witness to it. “We must allow ourselves to be tempted, really tempted, by the claims of their faith.”
Two questions at once arise in this regard. First, how can a Christian seriously consider another religion as an alternative to the Gospel without compromising his faith? Dr. Perry answers that no one can study a religion scientifically who has not already settled the question of ultimate truth to his own soul’s satisfaction. For that reason, the Christian, above all persons, is capable of seriously and sympathetically studying other religions (pp. 83–87). Dr. Perry’s brief analysis of the scientific method in these pages cannot be lightly brushed aside. He reaffirms what Alan Richardson (in his book, Christian Apologetics) and others have suggested that knowledge of immediate and present facts is attained by means of different categories than knowledge of ultimate pattern and purpose. The former comes through the category of the scientific method, and the latter through the category of revelation. “Therefore, the man of Gospel faith for whom, by virtue of his faith commitment, the concern for ultimate meaning and purpose is a settled matter, is the best possible prospect for accomplishing an impartial scientific investigation of religions” (p. 86).
Secondly, assuming then that a Christian can take another “faith-stance” without compromise, how is it possible for a Western Christian to bridge the great chasm that separates him epistemologically, psychologically, and culturally from Eastern religions? Perry believes it can be done. We need to realize that while our culture gives priority to logical concepts, other cultures give greater credence to psychical experience and concrete relationships. Strange as these approaches sound, they are nonetheless present (though suppressed) in our own culture. We need to rediscover the artistic and mystical outlooks that exist in our own culture and to cultivate these until we can “stand beside the man of that other culture and very nearly share his point of view and his way of viewing.”
Some readers will quarrel with Dr. Perry’s theology. He enthusiastically embraces critical views of Scripture. His acquaintance with existential thought has colored his views of revelation and salvation. Still it is refreshing to hear his ringing affirmations on the absolute uniqueness and necessity of the Gospel. The basic assumption of the book is that “there can be no reconciliation of the Gospel with other centers of faith except as those other centers abdicate and acknowledge the sovereignty of God in Christ” (p. 220). With this conviction as the foundation of his book, and the Gospel as his point of orientation, Dr. Perry has moved into the realm of methodology with his own contributions. Evangelicals will do well to ponder and discuss his conclusions.
PAUL R. PULLIAM
Theological Reflections
The Riddle of Life, by J. H. Bavinck (Eerdmans, 1958, 128 pp., $2), is reviewed by Wick Broomall, Westminster Presbyterian Church, Augusta, Georgia.
This small volume, translated from the Dutch edition into English by J. J. Lamberts, Assistant Professor of English, Northwestern University, is replete with philosophical and theological reflections on the great mysteries of human existence. For fear that such a description will intimidate the timid reader, let me hurriedly add that this book will invigorate the reader’s mind with its scintillating insights on basic problems of human life.
Understandably, a work that is designed for popular reading will not use the language of the pundit. Nevertheless, though it is simply written, this volume considers and solves some of the great issues that face the soul of man in his transit through time to eternity.
The Bible is rarely mentioned to substantiate a position presented and defended; yet, in spite of this, one feels instinctively that the author is leading him along biblical lines.
The evangelical reader will take few exceptions to the conclusions arrived at in this little volume. There is, however, one instance where the author speaks of “a long course of evolution [that] stretches before us,” a statement which seems to imply a belief in evolution. In view of the agitated state of the Christian mind today on that subject, it is regrettable that Dr. Bavinck did not unequivocally repudiate such a theory.
This book illustrates the fact that a scholar can still write in understandable language. Perhaps a good part of the credit here must go to the translator himself, for the reader would hardly be aware of the fact that he is reading a book originally written in Dutch.
WICK BROOMALL
Influence Of Missions
Wai-wai. Through the Forests South of the Amazon, by Nicholas Guppy (John Murray, 375 pp., 28s.), is reviewed by Frank Houghton, Bishop, St. Marks, Warwicks.
Nicholas Guppy studied botany and tropical forestry at both Oxford and Cambridge. He spent four years in British Guiana, and led expeditions into the largely unexplored territory on the boundary of Guiana and Brazil. He acknowledges his indebtedness to the New York Botanical Garden which was the point of departure for at least two of his expeditions. From this fascinating story one gets the impression that Mr. Guppy is a first-rate botanist whose discoveries have added not a little to the sum of human knowledge. One admires the spirit with which he faces incredible dangers and privations for the sake of science. He is an anthropologist as well as a botanist, investigating the conditions under which many small forest tribes are rapidly becoming extinct, and obviously enjoying the company of Wai-Wai, Wapisianas, Mawayans and others too numerous to mention. This reviewer read the book with growing interest and increasing respect for its author. But it is entitled to a review in CHRISTIANITY TODAY because Mr. Guppy met a group of Christian missionaries and makes illuminating, not to say caustic, comments upon them and their work. He regards them, on the whole, as “the most destructive of all those who form the vanguard of civilization.” He sees their coming as the end of artistic productivity among the tribes. If they become Christians, we are told, “the joy goes out of their existence.” The breakdown of tribal laws “often liberates the natives from moral restraint,” and they accept the standards of behavior of many who profess to be Christians. He appears to have no belief in a God who has revealed himself in the Scriptures—“the only reality we can ever know is a model in our minds constructed on the model of our minds.” Of course, if there is no God to whom sin is abhorrent, who has found a way whereby sinners everywhere may be forgiven and find abundant life in him, then the whole enterprise of missions is unnecessary. As one gradually discovers Mr. Guppy’s general attitude to the God of the Scriptures, one wonders if he may not have misunderstood those missionaries of whom he asked the question: “Do you respect these Indians as people?” Thus challenged, they replied (according to Mr. Guppy): “That is completely beside the point. We love them—we love them in Christ. Our object is to save souls. Nothing else matters.” Well, there have been missionaries in other lands than British Guiana who have failed to respect people as people. But surely such failure is uncommon today. One would like to assure Mr. Guppy that our Master loved people as people, and not merely as “souls,” and that we misrepresent him unless we do so too.
FRANK HOUGHTON
Fading Convictions
The Colgate Story, by Shields T. Hardin (Vantage Press, New York, 1959, 244 pp., $3.75), is reviewed by Frank Farrell, Editorial Associate of CHRISTIANITY TODAY.
The story of five generations of one of America’s great families is an interesting one which survives the undistinguished style of this account.
William Colgate (1783–1857), founder of the Colgate Soap Company, was a devout Baptist layman who took a benevolent interest in missions, Bible translation work, and Christian education. He and his progeny gave millions of dollars to Colgate University which was originally a training school for ministers—as were many of America’s great universities. Mr. Colgate’s pastor characterized him as a believer in the “divine authority of the Bible.” Another said, “A pure Bible was as dear to him as his life, and few men have done more to give it to the world.”
Samuel Colgate (son of William) and his family after him were most generous in their support of the YMCA—the result of a suggestion by Evangelist Dwight L. Moody.
The Colgate Story embodies an unstated lesson. Historian Robert Moats Miller has declared “the tragedy of religion” to be this: “Institutionalized it becomes corrupt; without the churches it dies.” There are so many cases of consecrated men giving large sums to worthy institutions which then live to dissolve the convictions of their founders. Perhaps the tragedy is mitigated somewhat by the accruing deterrent to the worship of institutions and the realization that these, as well as men, are worthy only so long as they derive their life from Jesus Christ.
FRANK FARRELL
Ritual And Doctrine
The First Evangelical Bishop, by G. C. B. Davies (The Tyndale Press, 1958, 19 pp., 1s.6d), is reviewed by Talbot G. Mohan, Secretary of Church Pastoral Aid Society, London.
This excellent monograph of 19 pages is the substance of a lecture delivered by the author in Cambridge at a meeting of the Tyndale Fellowship for Biblical Research. The appointment of Henry Ryder to the Bishopric of Gloucester was resented by the whole church and illustrates the contemporary attitude towards evangelicals. Any one who attempts to analyze the opposition today must bear in mind that what caused this resentment was the faithful proclamation of the whole counsel of God.
Today there is a much more tolerant attitude toward evangelicals (and in any case the foresight of Charles Simeon and others in securing and establishing patronage has prevented their exclusion from spheres of influence in the parishes). But there are, however, limits even today to this toleration, and those limits are measured by the distance a man is prepared to go with the ritualistic movement of the times. It may be said without fear of contradiction that a clergyman who was not prepared to depart from the rubrical direction of the Book of Common Prayer to stand at the north side of the Table for the administration of the Lord’s Supper, would be considered an unsuitable person to be a diocesan bishop, notwithstanding that he has on more than one occasion in his ministry given a solemn and public undertaking to do so.
Ritual and theology are conveniently believed today to have no relationship to one another, but it was the rediscovery of the doctrine of justification by faith which inspired the Reformation bishops (were they not the first evangelical bishops?) in the altered ritual of our Prayer Book. Henry Ryder, the subject of this booklet, expatiated on this doctrine in his Visitation Charge of 1828 taking for his definition the Anglican Articles and Homilies. To him the setting forth of the doctrines of grace was the primary purpose of his ministry. “Believe me,” he wrote, “any little good I may have done at Lutterworth, Claybrook, or elsewhere, has been entirely owing, under God, to my preaching in public and in private the fundamental doctrines of the Gospel.… And the most moral, respectable, and truly valuable parishioners I have ever had have been those who have embraced most cordially and fully the views of our own thorough sinfulness and helplessness, and of our unqualified need of the atonement of Christ, and the renewing influence of the Holy Spirit—the views which I, and more especially those connected with me, have endeavoured to inculcate. The Articles, the Liturgy, Ordination Services, all seem to me to breathe the same spirit and require the same conduct.”
Fundamentally it is this doctrine which is the cause of the cleavage between evangelicals and those who do not claim this description in this or in any age.
TALBOT G. MOHAN
Christology For Pastors
The Trinity, by E. H. Bickersteth (Kregel, Grand Rapids, 182 pp., $2.50), is reviewed by the Rev. Eric Edwin Paulson, Minister of the Lutheran Free Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
This book should be required reading for all theological students, and would well serve as a refresher course in Christology for pastors. It furnishes conclusive refutation of Unitarianism, the garbled conclusions of Jehovah’s Witnesses, the vacuous verbiage of Christian Science, and the teachings of other cults which reduce Jesus Christ to the status of a created being.
The following paragraph illustrates the author’s originality of expression, clarity of style, and unanswerable logic: “The very texts which most strongly declare the humanity of Jesus are sufficient to refute those who would deny his deity. How could a mere man, without absured presumption, solemnly announce that God the Father was greater than he? How could he be made flesh? How could it be proof of his humility that he was made in the likeness of man?”
A complete index of Scripture references is provided which enhances the value of this book.
ERIC EDWIN PAULSON
Ireland Revival
God’s River in Spate, by John T. Carson (Presbyterian Church in Ireland, Belfast, 1958, 138 pp., 9/6), is reviewed by S. W. Murray of Belfast, Ireland.
The Revival of 1859 in Ireland had a profound influence on the life of the Northern counties in general and the churches of those areas in particular. The account of the revival now published in the centenary year is a record of the origin and progress of the working of the Spirit of God, compiled for the most part from contemporary sources.
The beginnings of the revival are traced in the country around Ballymena, Co. Antrim from which the work spread into Ballymena and then further afield. Mr. Carson follows the progress of the revival from district to district with well-documented accounts of the effects on communities and churches. He tells, for example, how the new town hall at the port of Coleraine was used first as a place of inquiry by anxious souls following a number of large open-air meetings in the vicinity.
Among the results instanced in the volume are the accession of new members to the churches, social purity and sobriety (a better standard of living following in the families affected), greater sense of responsibility by the ordinary church member, marked increase in the numbers of candidates for the Christian ministry, a new spirit of Christian liberality and a forward movement in philanthropic and missionary enterprise. The use of lay preachers in assisting inquirers, too many for the ministers to handle, had much to do with the tradition of evangelism for which the North of Ireland is noted. The charges against the movement by various detractors are examined, including the physical prostrations which attracted much attention.
The year before the revival, note was taken of the American Revival of 1858, described by one religious editor in these words: “A revival is now passing over the churches in America such as has not been known since Apostolic times.”
A bibliography and an index increase the usefulness of this volume which warms the heart as well as informs the mind.
S. W. MURRAY
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That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me (John 17:21).
“In their glasses men are brethren—when those are empty the union breaks up.” This holds good of the intoxicating cup of vanity and delusion, over which men imagine a brotherhood of mankind independent of Christ—Pantheism, Communism, and the like. But where those believers in me are, of whom Christ speaks, there is already unity, on the ground of which a further and more perfect unity will follow.
Whatever be the bonds tying Christians together and whatever prudential considerations and motives they have to induce them to obey the command of God in keeping together in unity: yet it is only the power of God that can keep the bond of unity inviolable; and unless he keeps them near him, and free from the evils of the world, their union will break, and their being overpowered with flesh will break out in the bitter fruits of strife and division. Therefore saith Christ, “Holy Father keep [them] … that they may be one even as we are” (vs. 11).
United In Truth
His prayer for the unity of his people was in the context “that they know thee, the only true God” and “that they may be consecrated in truth.” But this unifying truth is nothing abstract or speculative. It centers in Him who is the truth, and who gives men new life in faith.
T. A. KANTONAN
This unity has its true and only ground in faith in Christ through the Word of God as delivered by the Apostles; and is therefore not mere outward uniformity, nor can such uniformity produce it. At the same time its effects are to be real and visible, such that the world may see them.
HENRY ALFORD
It may be further remarked, in order to disencumber this subject from everything which tends to destroy or impair the spirit of true Christian union, that does not require the surrender of any essential point of belief, in order to effect a compromise of doctrinal views, and thereby seek to remove all denominational distinctions.… Union based upon the surrender of any esential evangelical doctrine would be like the union of Pilate and Herod at the crucifixion of Jesus. The spirit of our Lord’s petition is however aimed against those sectarian prejudices and animosities, those ecclesiastical strifes and divisions, those assumptions of prelatical superiority and exclusive church polity, which have so often brought dishonor upon the religion of Christ, and which must all disappear before the bar of truth and righteousness, for which the disciples are laboring.
JOHN J. OWEN
Nature Of Unity
As doth not imply an exact equality, but only a similitude or answerable likeness. In the mystical union there is a kind of shadow and adumbration of that unity which is between the persons of the Godhead. So when man is said to be made after the similitude and likeness of God, it doth not imply a universal and exact equality, but only some conformity and similitude of men to God. So, “Be ye holy, as I am holy”; “Be ye … perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” It is good to note that in the letter of the text Christ separateth his own unity with the Father from that of the creatures. He doth not say, “Let us be all one”; but “Let them be all one.”
THOMAS MANTON
It is by being in Christ and through him in God (in us), that believers find themselves living in each other. That which separates them is what they have of self in their views and will; that which unites them is what they have of Christ, and thereby of the divine in them. It is clear that this dwelling of Christ and consequently of God in them is the work of the Spirit, who alone has the power to cast down the barrier between personalities, without confounding them.
F. GODET
That all (all my believing ones, the apostles and the others) may be one (ethically, in likeness of disposition, of love, of endeavour, etc., on the ground of faith, comp. Eph. 4:3 ff.; Rom. 15:5,6; Acts 4:32). This ethical unity of all believers, to be specifically Christian, must correspond as to its original type (as) to the reciprocal fellowship between the Father and the Son (according to which the Father lives and moves in the Son, and the Son in the Father).… This ethical unity of all believers in fellowship with the Father and the Son, however, shall serve to the unbelieving world as an actual proof and ground of conviction that Christ, the grand central point and support of this unity, is none other than the sent of God.
H. A. W. MEYER
The exemplary or pattern-union, here mentioned, between the Father and Son, is but a union in mind, in love, in design, and interest; wherein he prays, that saints on earth might visibly be one with them also.
JOHN HOWE
Christ’s disciples shall be one with each other, even as the Three who are most high in the unity of the blessed Godhead. They shall be one in heart and will, in righteousness, holiness, and love, in the unity of one new nature in Christ, and yet with no loss of personal identity, with no obliteration of the diversity of personal character, even as there are high and mysterious differences between the Three who are One upon the throne in heaven.… The unity of believers now and in all future generations rests on their inward real union with Christ and with God in Christ; but it is to show itself outwardly, so as to bear with victorious power for spiritual ends upon those who have hitherto been standing without the Church, upon the world.
D. DOUGLAS BANNERMAN
The union of churches consists in their relation unto God as their Father, and unto Christ as their only immediate head of influence and rule, with a participation of the same Spirit in the same faith and doctrine of truth, the same kind of holiness, the same duties of divine worship, especially the same mysteries of baptism and the supper, the observance of the same rules or commands of Christ in all church-order, with mutual love, effectual unto all the ends of their being and constitution, or the edification of the church catholic. There may be failures in them; there may be differences among them, about them, arising from the infirmities, ignorance, and prejudices of them of whom they do consist, the best knowing here but in part; but whilst the substance of them is preserved, the union of all churches, and so of the catholic church is preserved.
JOHN OWEN
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Special Report
Facing mutual concerns in shaping a Christian philosophy of science, evangelical scientists and theologians gathered June 9–11 at Trinity Seminary (Evangelical Free Church), Chicago, for the third biennial joint meeting of American Scientific Affiliation and the Evangelical Theological Society. Of 800 ASA scientists (all professing theists) and 350 ETS divinity scholars (all acknowledging the Bible’s authority), more than 80 members from Massachusetts to California shared views touching the modern cleft between religion and science. More than ever they reflected determination to avoid “loophole approaches” and “dichotomies between science and revelation.”
From the outset the sessions bristled at times with candid exchanges by speakers, discussants and delegates. When discussion turned metaphysical, a “practical-minded” scientist divided delegates into sheep who “get things done” and goats (philosophers) who “merely talked about it.” And when idealists and realists debated the existence of “a world independent of consciousness and its contents,” another scientist pleaded that the kingdom of heaven requires more fruitful pursuits.
But the philosophers nonetheless finally exacted one important concession from reluctant scientists: that science does not give us truth about nature, but only useful symbols—a daily alterable set of logical constructs—whose purpose is the control or reconstruction of physical entities. This emphasis—that science is interested in what works rather than what is true, and the scientific methodology can never achieve fixed principles beyond revisability—at first seemed to many evangelical scientists to demean their vocation. But this seeming indignity was removed when theologians and philosophers stressed the importance and legitimacy of the scientific task—both its curbing of diseases and invention of useful devices, and its status as a Christian “calling” equal in dignity with that of the evangelist and theologian.
Theologians acknowledged that conclusions are not to be ecclesiastically “forced” from the scientist in his specialized field, and that the scientist is not responsible for deriving Christian results through experimental techniques.
In fact, the way in which scholars drew the line between science and metaphysics proved one dominant—if not unanimous—development.
In recent decades, evangelical circles have reflected a curious contrast in apologetics. While many influential theologians have stressed the weaknesses of so-called “theistic proofs” (from nature to God), many influential scientists have stressed the cosmological and design arguments, and have frequently sought to invest these arguments with power through their scientific researches.
But the current tendency of evangelical philosophers is to approve “operationalism” as a scientific method, that is, to define what the scientist does as simply providing a statement of operational procedure. This strips the physicist of any right to speak of the “real” world, “natural laws” and “uniformity” on the basis of his methodology. All the physicist has are revisable mental constructs useful as manipulative symbols that he continually abandons in the interest of more workable constructs. Hence, the scientist’s methodology yields no truth about nature, let alone the supernatural.
At the Chicago conference Dr. Gordon H. Clark of Butler University and Professor Thomas H. Leith of Gordon College stressed this limitation. Dr. Clark insisted that no “laws of nature” have ever been discovered by science, and only “unbounded optimism” could encourage one to think such laws will now be discovered. Science is simply a statement of operational procedure, he stated, although admitting that in biology the operational viewpoint is least plausible (although not irrelevant). Does this imply—he asked—that not all scientific material is to be handled by the same concepts, and that the ideal of unified science must be relinquished (insofar as it is postulated in view of scientific methodology alone)?
Alongside this widening approval of scientific operationalism, evangelical theologians stress the Bible as the source of revealed axioms for metaphysics. Dr. Carl F. H. Henry, editor of CHRISTIANITY TODAY, noted that the scientist seldom stops with the agnosticism demanded by his methodology. He falls prey either to scientism, absolutizing his method as the sieve through which to screen the whole of reality, or to myth-making, postulating false gods (in the last century, the Law of Causality, or Ether; in this century, the Intelligibility of Nature, Free Will, and so forth) which his methodology really does not vindicate. The scientist is locked up to revelation for assurance that nature is an antecedent creation, and is rational and purposive.
Professor Oscar Walle of Concordia Senior College, Fort Wayne, stressed that scientific principles are derivative rather than determinative. An evangelical philosophy of science, he said, will include biblical teaching regarding the past, present and future relations of God to man and nature; will incorporate fundamental axioms and procedures of science that do not contradict these; and which must also apply and relate the foregoing into a consistent pattern of thought and procedure that tests the latter by the former, and uses them to show the relevance of the former.
Dr. R. Laird Harris of Covenant Seminary, St. Louis, emphasized the Bible’s truth “when and as far as it speaks on scientific matters. There is not a general conflict of science and the Bible. Christianity does not object to the scientific method of hypothesis, experiment and generalization. Neither does Christianity base itself on that method.”
Alongside the emphasis on the Bible as the source of authoritative guidelines for an evangelical philosophy of science, speakers also emphasized the reality of God’s revelation in nature, history and conscience. While scientific method restricts the approach to nature to quantitative questions, the scientist himself is a bearer of the image of God, even if that image is distorted, and he is addressed by a divine revelation in nature. Dr. Albert J. Meyer of Goshen College emphasized this revelation in nature, but noted also the dual fact of “fallen man” and “fallen nature.” Dr. Henry warned against minimizing the significance of general revelation; the scientist’s failure to acknowledge it is due primarily to the science, not to the evidences of God. He noted that the Apostle Paul both in Romans 1 and in his Mars Hill address set creation alongside redemption in speaking of divine revelation. Dr. Henry stressed that the rational integration of life’s experiences and the unity of culture are tied up with “the great fact that the God of creation and revelation and of redemption and of sanctification and of judgment is one and the same God.”
In the closing session, Dr. Stanley W. Olson, dean of Baylor University College of Medicine, presided over a panel comprised of speakers and discussants. A competent summary of the conference was presented by Professor Leith. Delegates went their way recalling the words of Dr. Clark: “The problems we face are both difficult and important, though the results of this meeting may seem meager. That these two societies should hold joint meetings to discuss them is an encouraging sign.”
C.F.H.H.
Names In The News
A Little Crack
Back from a five-day visit to Russia, Billy Graham said “the door has been opened a little crack.”
Asked about the possibility of an evangelistic crusade in Russia, Graham said: “God leads one step at a time. We don’t push. The door has been opened a little crack. Perhaps it will be opened further later.”
The evangelist flew to Moscow as a tourist, having stopped in Europe while en route home from his Australian meetings. He attended a two-and-a-half-hour Sunday morning service in the Russian capital’s First Baptist Church, where he was greeted warmly but not asked to preach. He also visited a Russian Orthodox monastery 40 miles from Moscow.
Whose Voice?
A storm of protest raged on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line following dismissal last month of the Rev. Robert B. McNeill as minister of the First Presbyterian Church in Columbus, Georgia. In a national magazine article two years ago, McNeill urged “creative contact” between whites and Negroes.
McNeill suffered a heart attack following his dismissal. Two weeks later, he was still in “serious” condition.
Opinion in the North was largely critical of a Southwest Georgia Presbytery commission which ousted McNeill. The commission found dissension within his 1,200-member congregation and asserted that “the voice of the pulpit should be the voice of the congregation.” The commission chairman said the dismissal was “in no sense a rebuke to Mr. McNeill.” One report said the issue involved more than the minister’s racial stand.
Some in his own denomination rallied to McNeill’s support, including Ernest Trice Thompson, moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. and a bloc of parishioners.
McNeill was subsequently offered a position with the Mt. Lebanon (Pa.) Presbyterian Church, where Dr. John Calvin Reid, McNeill’s predecessor in Columbus, is minister.
Carnell Resigns
Dr. Edward J. Carnell, who at 40 is one of evangelicalism’s top scholars, resigned last month after five years as president of Fuller Theological Seminary.
In face of failing health believed attributable to excess strain, Carnell was given a sabbatical leave until next January, when he is scheduled to return as professor of apologetics, the position he held prior to being named president.
Dr. Harold J. Ockenga will be acting president until a successor is named.
Carnell, a Baptist, was the nation’s youngest seminary president when he took the Fuller reins. Under his administration, the seminary received accreditation in 1957 from the American Association of Theological Schools.
People: Words And Events
Deaths: The Rev. James C. McCoy, 74, charter member of the Executive Committee of the Southern Baptist Convention, in Memphis … Dr. Rees Edgar Tulloss, 77, prominent Lutheran churchman and president of Wittenberg College, in Springfield, Ohio … Dr. F. W. Boreham, author and distinguished Baptist preacher, in Melbourne.
Elections: As president of the Reformed Church in America, Dr. Howard G. Hageman … as president of the Augustana Lutheran Church, Dr. Malvin H. Lundeen … as moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Canada, Dr. Alexander Nimmo … as president of the Australian Council for the World Council of Churches, Anglican Archbishop R. C. Halse … as chaplain-general of the Sons of the American Revolution, the Rev. Willis Bergen … as second counselor in the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Henry D. Moyle.
Appointments: As president of Marion College, Dr. Harold K. Sheets, head of the Department of Home Missions and Church Extension of the Wesleyan Methodist Church of America … as professor of archaeology at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary at Kansas City, Missouri, Dr. J. Morris Ashcraft; as professor of church history, Dr. G. Hugh Wamble; as professor of religious education and church administration, Dr. Frank E. Royal … as professor of church history at the Southern California School of Theology, Dr. Leland H. Carlson.
Resignation: As president of Colby College, Dr. Julius S. Bixler.
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