Congregational Leadership: Worship and Rituals PDF

6HFWLRQ7ZR &XOWLYDWLQJWKH6NLOOVIRU (IIHFWLYH0LQLVWU\  :RUVKLSDQG0DLQOLQH5LWXDO Much of this book focuses on the work that the leader of the congregation must do outside the congregation. It looks at careful study of Scripture, the need for a coherent theology, the importance of effective...

6HFWLRQ7ZR &XOWLYDWLQJWKH6NLOOVIRU (IIHFWLYH0LQLVWU\  :RUVKLSDQG0DLQOLQH5LWXDO Much of this book focuses on the work that the leader of the congregation must do outside the congregation. It looks at careful study of Scripture, the need for a coherent theology, the importance of effective pastoral care, and the challenge of church administration. However, it is worth remembering that a key aspect of congregational leadership is creating an outstanding worship experience. For Christians, the Holy Spirit is the primary provider of an “outstanding worship experience.” However, the human agent is important. Although it is true that poor preaching and dreadful music can still create an occasion where God is worshipped and the people of God encounter God, it is even better when the people of God work in an imaginative and conscientious way to ensure that the experience offered to God is our best. There is nothing wrong with striving for excellence in worship. It is not incompatible with faithfulness. 7KH%DVLFV We live in an age where there are so many competing options for our time away from work – from reading a good newspaper in Starbucks to sports for your children. When you are working 50 or 60 hours a week (an 8am to 8pm day is very common), the leisurely Sunday morning is very precious. The Church of the Holy Comforter (i.e. the comforter you pull up over yourself as you snuggle back to sleep) is a constant temptation on a Sunday morning. In addition, expectations for “entertainment” (and in a sense this is where worship needs to be compared – church competes with other forms of relaxation on a Sunday morning) are high. Sporting events are exciting; musical events are polished; lectures are informed, snazzy, and use PowerPoint and Prezi effectively; and the movie theater is just a delight. Meanwhile so much of the time church is boring. Music is dull; sermons are too long, boring, and delivered without any technological aids; and the liturgy is delivered without any passion. In the mainline denominations, a good worship leader must make sure that the hour (ideally), perhaps 1 hour 15 minutes, is outstanding.1 If men and women are going to make church their priority, then it is important that we do everything we can to make sure that they don't regret that decision. The worship experience should always strive for excellence: it should always be outstanding. So what are the important priorities? Worship is about worshipping God. For some it is hard to worship when leading worship. The worship leader has to think ahead constantly; she (for this chapter she is inclusive of he) must prepare for the next stage of the service. Yet such anticipation should not excuse the presider from also seeking to worship. In the end this occasion is about God. Robert Hovda makes the point well when he writes, if the presider “fails to communicate a sense of prayerful performance, of being (first of all) a worshiper and a member of the worshiping assembly, then he or she is not a leader but an intruder. And the gifts of such a one or such a group damage rather than enhance worship.”2 One comes to the liturgy as a worshipper seeking to be in the presence of God. There are three basics that always must be covered. First, it is important that one can be heard and seen. When you join a congregation as the new worship leader, do take several weeks just to sit in different parts of the church experiencing the worship experience as a member of the congregation. In this way, you will notice the pillar that obstructs the view, the way that sound moves around the space (meaning that in some places hearing is easy and in others it is much harder), and focus of those around you (some sections of the church will be especially worshipful, others will be texting on their iPhone). This is vitally important information for the worship leader to have. You might feel that you are “hitting the sermon out of the ballpark,” but if folks cannot hear then no one else will be sharing your feeling. The second basic requirement is to cultivate a presence. For the mainline, the presider at the worship experience is given some help. Appropriate attire in the form of vestments and the location of the presider at the front and the center are tools to help give the worship leader a sense of presence. Studies have shown that when it comes to presentations, the visual and hearing impact are more important than the content. Typically, studies have shown that the impact of a presentation is weighted 50% on appearance, 30% on delivery, and just 20% on content.3 Dressing right and speaking clearly are really important. All of this creates a “presence.” The congregation should be aware of the person entrusted with the responsibility of leading the worship. The third requirement is to be interesting, use humor effectively, and rehearse. Voice training is important; one should cultivate a voice that is interesting. Using humor to relax a congregation is a good way to make a congregation receptive. To laugh one must listen. And once a person has started listening, it is likely that they will stay with you. And rehearsal is essential. Everything should be done well. You do not teach a server how to prepare the table for communion during the liturgy itself. These are the basic requirements for effective worship oversight. The next stage is the organization of the liturgy. 7KH%DVLF0DLQOLQH6HUYLFH6WUXFWXUH Barbara Day Miller helpfully sets out the basic structure of a mainline service. There are four stages: “gathering for praise,” “hearing God's Word,” “responding in faith,” and “sending forth.”4 ,PDJHVRI&RQWUDVWLQJ:RUVKLSߙ7UDGLWLRQDOYV &RQWHPSRUDU\  Figure 4.1 Source: (a) © Bob Daemmrich/Alamy; (b) © Peter Noyce PLB/Alamy. Gathering for praise will include music, a call to worship, a hymn of praise, and a prayer. In the more liturgical seasons, there will be a recognition of the moment in the church calendar (normally marked by a special prayer – often called a Collect). Hearing God's Word is the moment when Scripture is read and the sermon is preached. The precise number of readings from Scripture can vary considerably. The maximum will be four (normally, an Old Testament lesson, an Epistle, a Gospel, and a Psalm), but it can be as few as just one. The sermon will then seek to apply the insights from the biblical texts to the contemporary situation facing the congregation. Responding in faith can include a whole range of activities. For some traditions, it is the chance for a renewal at the altar (an altar call); for others, it is a creed followed by the prayers of the people. Many traditions will include the confession at this stage and the offering of the tithes. In addition, this is the section where there is communion or the Eucharist. The “exchange of the peace” will either happen here or in the gathering section. There are good arguments for both locations: the Lutherans tend to think the gathering is the right place for greeting each other, while the Episcopalians tend to locate the peace after the confession and before the offering. Finally, the people need to be “sent forth.” There is always some conclusion to the liturgy (which is normally a hymn, blessing, and some type of dismissal). This basic structure does vary across the different traditions in the mainline. The Episcopal Church, for example, makes the sacrament of the Eucharist not simply a response to the Word, but the climax of the liturgy in its own right. And many United Church of Christ (UCC) congregations do not include Holy Communion as part of the response to the Word, but instead concentrate on making prayer the primary response. Nevertheless, this basic order (even if the significance of the divisions varies) is found across the mainline. 6LJQLILFDQW5LWXDOV The first and most important ritual is baptism. Baptism is the rite of initiation into the Christian tradition. Most of the mainline Churches practice infant baptism, although adults who convert or recommit to Christianity can be baptized. It is theologically the moment when the drama of human sinfulness being transformed by the death of Christ is enacted. As a child emerges from the water, the promise of God made possible in Christ is realized. A baptism can be a joyous occasion. Normally, it is the opportunity for a baby to be brought to God; it expresses the intention of families to support that child in the Christian faith; and many parents take it as an opportunity to give a special role to friends and siblings in the child's life by making them godparents. The symbolism of baptism is rich. In Paul's letters, baptism is linked both to the Jewish practice of circumcision (see Colossians 2:11–12) and the Exodus (1 Corinthians 10:1–5). In both cases the emphasis is on the new life made possible by Jesus. In Romans, Paul brings these themes together when he writes: Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:3–4) The word “baptism” comes from the Greek word, which means “to immerse.” The symbolism is clear: as we are immersed in water we are dying with Christ and as we come out of the water, we are symbolically rising with Christ. Baptism is the moment we are transformed by grace to be freed from egotism and selfishness and invited into a new life of love and hope. Two other rituals are central in a human life. The first is to do with the decision to find a life partner – to get married; and the other is the moment of death – the funeral. With the first, a marriage is a real opportunity for evangelism. Normally, the minister or priest needs to ensure that she is authorized to perform marriages by both the secular and religious authorities. Most churches require some form of marriage preparation. A good program will cover both the more conceptual (the theology and symbolism of marriage) and the more practical (how do you resolve disagreements). Processes around the handling of persons who are divorced getting remarried vary. Some Churches tend to be very informal (with the emphasis being on the pre-marriage counseling to ensure that the next relationship is stronger) compared to other churches wanting some sort of formal process and perhaps external confirmation (e.g. the Episcopal Church requires people to check with the bishop of the diocese). The actual service also varies considerably. In the UCC and the Presbyterian Church, often the couple can design their own service and even write their own vows, while in the Lutheran Church, there is an expectation that the couple will follow the pattern suggested by the Evangelical Lutheran Worship. The funeral service is where the life of the departed is celebrated in the light of the Gospel promise of resurrection. A good funeral is a precious gift to the grieving family. It is an opportunity to bring some closure to the aching loss of a loved one. Given the pastoral and the theological need to merge, this is important work that needs to be done well. It is important for the minister to know the family and to have a sense of what should be lifted up and recognized and what, given the occasion, might be given less emphasis. Human lives are increasingly complex; so the children from the first marriage might not appreciate an excessive celebration and affirmation of the second marriage. Again the practice around funerals in the mainline varies. For the UCC and the Presbyterian Church, there is much more space where the family can make suggestions; and for the Episcopal Church, there is a particular structure provided by the Book of Common Prayer. +RO\&RPPXQLRQ This section will work through different understandings of the Lord's Supper or Holy Communion or Eucharist or even Mass (depending on which part of the mainline to which one belongs). The name is deeply symbolic. Lord's Supper captures the basic idea that we are participating in a remembrance: we are remembering the act of betrayal that led to the death of Jesus. And we are doing so because we believe that through the death and resurrection we are redeemed. The Eucharist means Thanksgiving. It captures the idea that the prayer being said over the elements creates a moment of divine grace where the divine life found in the elements can become part of our lives. For the purposes of this discussion, we shall use the term Eucharist. The Eucharist is based on the Last Supper. Jesus brought his disciples together hours before he was arrested (see Luke 22:7–20; Matthew 26:17–29; Mark 14:12–25; 1 Corinthians 11:23–26). In this meal, Jesus explained to the disciples that the bread was his body and the wine his blood. Paul in 1 Corinthians explains that Jesus took bread: and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:24–25) At this extremely poignant moment, Jesus asked his disciples to eat bread and drink wine in remembrance of him. From the time of Jesus onwards, the Eucharist or the Lord's Supper became a central Christian ritual. How this event is understood varies considerably. All the mainline Churches have been in conversation with the Roman Catholic Church. For Roman Catholics, a proper understanding of the Eucharist (or Mass as they prefer) is transubstantiation. Transubstantiation is grounded in Aristotelian terminology and philosophy. Aristotle (384–322 BCE) distinguished between the “substance” and the “accidents.” The essential nature is the “substance,” while the shape, color, and general outward appearance are “accidents.” Using this distinction, although the appearance of bread and wine remains the same, it does, nevertheless, become the body and blood of Jesus. The Eucharist then is a miracle of divine grace. In the act of taking the Eucharist, one takes into one's body the divine and redeeming power of God in Christ. The mainline traditions are nervous about the use of Greek philosophy to understand the mystery of the Eucharist. Martin Luther, who is the major influence on both the Lutherans and the Anglicans, became increasingly suspicious of the use of Aristotelian philosophy in Christian doctrine. Instead of distinguishing between the accidents and the substance, Luther wants Christ present in both. He draws an analogy with the doctrine of the Incarnation: in the same ways the Godhead permeated all of humanity so Christ permeates all the bread. He writes: And why could not Christ include his body in the substance of the bread just as well as in the accidents? In red-hot iron, for instance, the two substances, fire and iron, are so mingled that every part is both iron and fire. Why is it not even more possible that the body of Christ be contained in every part of the substance of the bread?5 Luther then believes in the “real presence,” sometimes known as consubstantiation. For Luther, because Jesus in the Bible states that “this is my body,” it must be so. The power of the sacraments is made possible by God and received by the faith of the believer. This means that the Lutherans in their statement “The Use of the Means of Grace” describe their understanding of the Eucharist in the following way (paraphrased here from Called to Common Mission, a Lutheran proposal for concordance with the Episcopal Church from 1999): “We believe that the Body and Blood of Christ are truly present, distributed, and received under the forms of bread and wine in the Lord's Supper.”6 The statement goes on to explain that the elements can include red or white wine, unleavened or leavened bread, and gluten-free or non-alcoholic alternatives are encouraged. The expectation is that Lutherans should take the Eucharist weekly and the invitation is only issued to baptized Christians. The Episcopal Church is very similar to the Lutherans. They describe the Eucharist in the following way: “This is the family meal for Christians and a foretaste of the heavenly banquet. As such, all persons who have been baptized, and are therefore part of the extended family that is the Church, are welcome to receive the bread and wine, and be in communion with God and each other.”7 There is a lively debate within the Episcopal Church about opening up the table to Christians who are not baptized. The canons (i.e. the rules) continue to restrict the Eucharist to those who are baptized; however, many congregations argue that given Jesus took table fellowship with anyone, it follows that congregations should be equally willing to do so. The Presbyterians tend to follow John Calvin (1509–1564). Calvin took the line that the sacraments were signs of a reality that God had already performed. When defining a sacrament, he writes: It seems to me that a simple and proper definition would be to say that it is an outward sign by which the Lord seals on our consciences the promises of his good will towards us in order to sustain the weakness of our faith; and we in turn attest our piety towards him in the presence of the Lord and of his angels and before men.8 The emphasis here is that sacraments are signs of work that God has already done. In the Eucharist, the bread and wine are witness to a spiritual reality of redemption. There is a lovely humility in Calvin's view. He admits it is difficult to make sense of what exactly God is doing. So he wrote: “Now if anyone should ask me how this takes place, I shall not be ashamed to confess that it is a secret too lofty for either the mind to comprehend or my words to declare. … I rather experience it than understand it.”9 In both cases, for Calvin, the agent at work is the Holy Spirit and that work needs to be trusted. According to the Presbyterian Missional Society web site: The Presbyterian/Reformed understanding of the Lord's Supper is one of thanksgiving and remembrance for the self-offering of Jesus Christ once and for all time on a cross in Jerusalem. Christ's perfect sacrifice of love and service is not re-enacted or reactualized at the Lord's Supper; rather, in the joyful feast of Eucharistic celebration, we offer our praise and thanksgiving to God for this amazing gift. Furthermore, the sacrament that Christ instituted for the remembrance of him takes the form of a simple meal — a sharing of bread and wine. Therefore, it is Presbyterian practice to refer to the Lord's table rather than an altar.10 To be sure the memorial (or anamnesis) of Christ's death and resurrection is an integral part of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.” $QDPQHVLV  Anamnesis is the critical concept in liturgy and worship in the mainline, as in Catholicism, that embodies the act of remembering the saving acts God has already done, while also pivoting to focus on the saving God will still do. This bears heavily on the Eucharist, where the words of institution, “Do this in remembrance of me,” illustrate anamnesis in action – as we remember Christ's institution of the Lord's Supper, we turn to ask God to bless the holy gifts of bread and wine so that they may become the body and blood of Christ in the world present to us. For Presbyterians, the heart of the liturgy is a fourfold action: take, bless, break, give. The bread is taken; it is blessed and broken; and then it is given to the people of God. The big debate within the Presbyterian tradition is the frequency of the celebration of the Lord's Supper. The recent Presbyterian publication Invitation to Christ explains: The Directory for Worship in the Presbyterian Book of Order encourages the “appropriateness” of frequent celebrations of the Lord's Supper. A few congregations have begun celebrations of the sacrament as often as each Lord's Day and on other occasions of special significance in the life of the Christian community. But frequency alone is not the basic issue. Some believe we need to restore the Biblical pattern of the Lord's Supper on each Lord's Day to provide a disciplined reminder of a divine act that will help centralize and “re-focus” the rhythm of our daily lives.11 In terms of participation, it is open to all who are baptized. It is the responsibility of the elders to ensure that it is the baptized who receive. In the case of an unbaptized Christian who comes forward, the elders should permit that person to be fed, but then follow up with appropriate ongoing formation. The United Methodist Church has a distinctive understanding of communion (to use their preferred term). One can sense in their official pronouncements the Anglican influence, from which the Methodists emerged. In This Holy Mystery, the Methodists insist that the Communion is not primarily a remembrance or memorial. They write: For United Methodists, the Lord's Supper is anchored in the life of the historical Jesus of Nazareth, but is not primarily a remembrance or memorial. We do not embrace the medieval doctrine of transubstantiation, though we do believe that the elements are essential tangible means through which God works. We understand the divine presence in temporal and relational terms. In the Holy Meal of the church, the past, present, and future of the living Christ come together by the power of the Holy Spirit so that we may receive and embody Jesus Christ as God's saving gift for the whole world.12 It is almost as if they are in-between Luther and Calvin: it is a transcendent moment of grace that enables us to receive Christ. The bread should look and taste like bread; and the non-baptized are welcome to the table. This latter point is central to Methodism. The open table is really emphasized as a key part of communion. Many members of the UCC are much more radical. They have sympathies with Ulrich Zwingli (1484–1531), who is the most radical of the big three reformers. For him, the sacraments are just “signs or ceremonials.”13 On the Eucharist, he finds it absurd to say that “Christ is literally there.” It would mean that Christ is literally “broken, and pressed with the teeth.”14 Instead we should interpret the phrase “this is my body” more metaphorically. It is analogous, explains Zwingli, to a wife who shows someone her husband's ring and says “This is my late husband.”15 This means that for the UCC communion is properly understood as a sacred memorial, but one that should be understood as a present reality that involves dining with the risen Christ. So the UCC web site explains: The United Church of Christ Book of Worship reminds us that “the invitation and the call (to the supper) celebrate not only the memory of a meal that is past, but an actual meal with the risen Christ that is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet at which Christ will preside at the end of history. … A joyous act of thanksgiving for  all God has done, is doing, and will do for the redeeming of creation; a sacred memorial of the crucified and risen Christ, a living and effective sign of Christ's sacrifice in which Christ is truly and rightly present to those who eat and drink; an earnest prayer for the presence of the Holy Spirit to unite those who partake with the Risen Christ and with each other, and to restore creation, making all things new; an intimate experience of fellowship in which the whole church in every time and place is present and divisions are overcome; a hopeful sign of the promised Realm of God marked by justice, love and peace.16 It is important to note that although this is a remembrance, it is also an anticipation; it is an anticipation of the Kingdom (or to avoid the associations of monarchy, the terminology used here is Realm of God) to come. So what seems to be a lower view of the sacraments is still an elevated vision of everything that is involved. In terms of invitation, the UCC is clear. The Book of Worship puts it, “open to all Christians who wish to know the presence of Christ and to share in the community of God's people.”17 All are welcome to this anticipation of the “Realm of God.” 7UDQVXEVWDQWLDWLRQYV&RQVXEVWDQWLDWLRQYV 0HPRULDO Catholicism teaches transubstantiation, or the notion that in the consecration of the elements of bread and wine in the Eucharist, they are transformed literally into the body and blood of Jesus Christ (leaving merely the aura or image of bread and wine to our human eyes). Martin Luther, in the Protestant Reformation, developed a contrasting concept – the bread and wine are infused with the Holy Spirit during the Eucharist, and the “real presence” of Christ is likewise clear in the Eucharistic gifts, but the elements are clearly still bread and wine. Finally, on the farther end of the spectrum, such as in the Geneva branch of Christianity following the Reformation, the Eucharist may be thought of as simply a memorial of the saving acts of Christ – and thus, the bread and wine are merely bread and wine, and the Eucharistic prayer enacts  a memorial to the Lord's Supper at most. &RQFOXVLRQ Being an effective worship leader is a vitally important part of effective ministry. The gathered people of God need to be fed; and the worship meal needs to be excellent. One cannot underestimate the importance of the basics – make sure readers and musicians rehearse and that the congregation can see and hear. Any tradition should have a good self-understanding. It is important that a congregation is educated into the shared understanding of baptism and the Eucharist. Such a shared understanding binds a community together. A community that is formed with such a shared understanding also helps with the guest. The guest will appreciate the worship experience so much more when they understand what is going on. So inculcating the shared understanding is important. The leadership of worship is a privilege. It is an honor and a trust. A well-executed worship service creates the space for the meaning of the liturgy and sacraments to shine through. 1RWHV 1. It is important to note that some mainline African American congregations, in particular, love the longer service. The dynamic music and rich community can enable men and women to enjoy a full 3-hour morning. 2. Robert W. Hovda, “Liturgy's many roles: Ministers? … or, intruders?” in John F. Baldovin, ed., The Amen Corner (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1994), 154. 3. We are grateful to Barbara Brown Taylor for these data. She presented this at the “Tom Bowers Preaching Training Session” at Virginia Theological Seminary, November 2, 2012. 4. Barbara Day Miller, The New Pastor's Guide to Leading Worship  (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2006), 31. 5. Martin Luther, Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1520), in James F. White, Documents of Christian Worship: Descriptive and Interpretive Sources (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1992), 198. 6. “Agreement #5” in Called to Common Mission, A Lutheran Proposal for a Revision of the Concordat of Agreement (ECLA, 1999), retrieved from http://download.elca.org/ELCA%20Resource%20Repository/Called (accessed June 1, 2015). See also “Background 33 A” in The Use of the Means of Grace: A Statement on the Practice of Word and Sacrament, Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, (ELCA c/o Augsburg Fortress, 1997), 37. 7. http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/holy-communion (accessed May 29, 2015). 8. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV, 13, 1–26 (1559), in White, Documents of Christian Worship, 132. 9. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, XXI, Library of Christian Classics, John T. McNeill, ed., trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1960), Chap. 4.17.32. 10. Presbyterian Missional Society, “Sacraments: Lord's Supper,” http://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/worship/faq- lordssupper/ (accessed June 1, 2015). 11. Presbyterian Church USA: “Invitation to Christ,” http://www.pcusa.org/media/uploads/sacraments/pdfs/invitationto (accessed May 29, 2015). 12. The United Methodist Church, This Holy Mystery, 13. Available at: http://s3.amazonaws.com/Website_Properties/what-we- believe/documents/this-holy-mystery-communion.PDF (accessed May 29, 2015). 13. Ulrich Zwingli, Commentary on True and False Religion (1525), in  White, Documents of Christian Worship, 132. 14. Ulrich Zwingli, On the Lord's Supper, as found in White, Documents of Christian Worship, 201. 15. Ibid., 201. 16. United Church of Christ web site. Available at: http://www.ucc.org/worship/communion/ (accessed May 29, 2015). 17. United Church of Christ, Book of Worship. $QQRWDWHG%LEOLRJUDSK\ Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, Faith and Order Paper No. 11 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982), 10–19. Blount, Brian K. and Tubbs Tisdale, Leonora, eds, Making Room at the Table: An Invitation to Multicultural Worship (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001). An excellent collection of essays that explores diversity in our worshipping communities. Bradshaw, Paul F., Eucharistic Origins (London: SPCK, 2004). A good overview of Eucharistic origins up to the fourtth century. Dix, Dom Gregory, The Shape of the Liturgy: New Edition (New York, Continuum, 2011). Explores the relationship of the liturgy to the agape meal. Hellwig, Monika K., The Eucharist and the Hunger of the World (Lanham, MD: Sheed and Ward, 1992). Explains how the Eucharist is meant to overflow and that those receiving also help feed the world. Irwin, Kevin W., Models of the Eucharist (New York: Paulist Press, 2005). The focus in this chapter has been on the mainline. This book looks at different Catholic understandings of the Eucharist such as Cosmic Mass, Memorial, Lord's Supper, Sacrifice, Food for the Journey. Koenig, John, The Feast and the World's Redemption (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000). The concluding chapter is especially rich as Koenig looks at the implications for the liturgy. Long, Kimberley Bracken, The Worshiping Body: The Art of Leading Worship (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009). The centrality of our body in worship is explored and discussed. McCall, Richard D., Do This: Liturgy as Performance. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007). A description of how a minister should approach liturgy. Macquarrie, John, A Guide to the Sacraments (London: SCM Press Ltd, 1997). Probably the great classic on this topic. Miller, Barbara Day, The New Pastor's Guide to Leading Worship (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2006). Tons of practical and helpful advice. It describes in detail what you actually do the first time you are leading worship. Wainwright, Geoffrey, Eucharist and Eschatology (London: Epworth Press, 1971). Another classic that sets out the significance of the Eucharist and its relationship to eschatology. White, James F., The Sacraments in Protestant Practice and Faith (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1999). A good ecumenical discussion of the sacraments. Willimon, William H., Word, Water, Wine and Bread: How Worship Has Changed Over the Years (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 1980).  A very accessible history of worship from the Jewish practices to the present. 'HQRPLQDWLRQDO'RFXPHQWV Episcopal Church: See “An outline of faith commonly called the Catechism,” The Book of Common Prayer (New York: Seabury Press, 1979), 875. ELCA: “The use and the means of grace.” Available at: http://padrepoint.wordpress.com/2011/10/22/text-the-use-of- the-means-of-grace (accessed May 29, 2015). PCUSA: “Invitation to Christ.” Available at: http://www.pcusa.org/media/uploads/sacram ents/pdfs/invitationtochrist.pdf (accessed May 29, 2015). UMC: “This holy mystery.” Available at: http:// s3.amazonaws.com/Website_Properties/what -we- believe/documents/this-holy-mystery-communion.PDF (accessed May 29, 2015). UCC: Available at: http://www.ucc.org/worship/communion (accessed May 29, 2015).  5HDGLQJ6FULSWXUH7KRXJKWIXOO\ The primary vehicle through which we learn about the past is the written text. These words communicate down through the centuries to the present. Christians believe that God has spoken definitively through the Eternal Word made flesh – Jesus of Nazareth. As we we will see in Chapter 6, the second person of the Trinity (the Son), who is the revealing element of God, interpenetrated Jesus of Nazareth to show the world decisively what God is like. Knowledge of what Jesus was like depends on a text. And for Christians, the text that tells us what Jesus is like is the Bible. For the mainline, the Bible comprises the Old Testament (the Hebrew Scriptures) and the New Testament. There are some 13 books, which are known as the Apocrypha, which are considered worthy of study, but not considered as Scripture. The books that make up the Bible are known collectively as the canon of Scripture. The word canon comes from the Greek and literally means “rod.” The idea here is that of a straight rod, which can be used as a rule (like a ruler). In this chapter, we shall start by looking at the history of the canon and then move to the five distinct approaches to the Bible that are found within the mainline. 7KH'HDG6HD6FUROOV The story of the Dead Sea Scrolls is remarkable. A young boy entered into the caves of Qumran in Israel. There he discovered the scrolls that clearly had great archeological import – these were excavated and studied and described as the “Dead Sea Scrolls” in 1946. Among their many revelations were the affirmations of texts of the Bible, particularly the Hebrew Bible books. 7KH+LVWRU\RIWKH&DQRQ One of the first discoveries that any student of Scripture must make is that the Bible did not drop fully formed from heaven. If we pause and think about it, then we clearly realize that the text had a distinctive and complex history, but we become so accustomed to the unity implied by the leather cover around these books. The history of Scripture intersects with the history of Judaism. Our Old Testament (sometimes called the “First” Testament or “Hebrew Bible”) comprises the sacred corpus of Judaism. Traditionally, the Jewish Bible has 24 books. It consists of the Torah: “Law,” the first five books of the Bible, “Prophets” (in Hebrew, Nebiim), and “Writings” (in Hebrew, Ketubim). It is from the Hebrew words that we get the designation for the Hebrew Scriptures of Tanakh – Ta for Torah, Na for Nebiim and Kh for Writings. Christians have the same books, but count them differently. For Judaism, instead of 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings, and 1 and 2 Chronicles being separate books, they are single books and counted as one each. The canon of the Hebrew Bible was a major discussion well into the early centuries of the Common Era. Josephus, the Jewish historian writing in approximately 95 CE, in his polemic Against Apion, explains that the Jews had a settled canon of 22 (instead of the 24 we would expect) books. Lee Martin McDonald suspects that there was much greater fluidity of usage in Judaism, and the Jews outside Israel (the Jews in the diaspora) were even using other books outside the canon.1Part of the evidence of this is the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible called the Septuagint. The Old Testament is written in Hebrew; the New Testament is written in Greek. The reason for the difference is Alexander the Great, who swept through the Middle East bringing Greek learning and language to the region. By the time of Jesus, the Hellenistic influences (i.e. the Greek cultural influence) were very significant. From 331 BCE, there was a significant Jewish population speaking Greek in Alexandria, Egypt. A translation was needed for that generation and subsequent generations to stay in touch with their Jewish faith. There is a delightful legend involving 70 (or perhaps 72) elders of the Jewish faith who arrived in Alexandria. According to Philo, the Jewish philosopher living in Alexandria, the translators worked in isolation from each other and yet produced identical translations. The truth behind the legend is simply this: as the Greek language became more and more popular, a translation was needed. The initial translation was simply the Torah, but later the rest of the Hebrew Bible was covered. However, the work of translation did not stop with the Hebrew Bible, it extended to those books which we now call the Apocrypha. It is the Septuagint that is largely responsible for the order of our Old Testament. The Torah is at the beginning of both, but Ruth is moved up in the canon. However, it is the extra books that became the Apocrypha which are interesting. The Septuagint supplements the book of Daniel with two stories that are not in the Hebrew Bible – one at the beginning, The History of Susanna, and one at the end, Bel and the Dragon. The Bible of the early Church is the Septuagint. This is the one that is quoted in the New Testament. There is some argument among scholars as to the impact of those additional books that, ultimately, were not recognized as Scripture by the Jewish community. There is clear allusion to the Apocrypha in the New Testament, but nothing that would count as direct quotation. The story of the New Testament canon is complex. To start with, a congregation might just have access to this or that letter or Gospel. However, usage seems to determine which books became part of the canon. An important criterion in determining legitimate texts was “closeness” to the apostles (those who witnessed the resurrection of Jesus). So the Church, quite rightly, excluded the later second century, many of which were Gnostic (a form of Hellenistic heresy) “Gospels.” Instead, the books chosen were letters written by Paul to particular congregations (these books are probably the earliest texts written in the New Testament) and then the Gospels, which were believed to have a connection with an apostle (so Mark was linked with Peter, Luke was linked with Paul, and Matthew and John were apostles). Modern scholars are probably right that these links with the apostles are tenuous. However, the fact that this criterion mattered so much did mean that those texts, which are manifestly written decades later, were excluded. 0DUFLRQ Sometimes doctrine comes about with thanks to those who vehemently disagree with the mainline. Marcion (circa 85–160 CE) is one such example. In the second century, Marcion attempted to construct an early “New Testament,” a canon to complement the Hebrew Scriptures, but which spoke to the salvific work of Christ in our world. Marcion's arrangement of Scripture had a different order, and missed some epistles and books that entered into the final canon – and ultimately, he was deemed a heretic for the sake of the Church's greater goal of arranging a proper arrangement of books that would form the official New Testament. It was the heretic Marcion (circa 85–160 CE), who suggested the first canon. Marcion took the view that the Old Testament God was clearly incompatible with the New Testament God, and therefore the canon of the New Testament should be limited to those texts that kept their distance from the Old Testament. He went for the Gospel of Luke and the epistles written by Paul. This position was rejected by the Church, but the fact that Marcion proposed a certain set of authoritative books did encourage the Church to think through this issue with some care. The canon of the New Testament was not formalized until the early third century. A key person was Athanasius of Alexandria (circa 296– 373 CE). In this 39th festal letter, we have the first list of 27 books that we know today. Athanasius did recognize that there were other books in circulation. The Didaché (the Lord's teaching through the 12 apostles to the nations) and The Shepherd of Hermas (a book of visions that reflects on the nature of desire and forgiveness) were included in many lists of approved and popular texts by certain congregations. However, Athanasius insists that these texts should not be included in the canon, but can be read and studied as edifying. Athanasius is a good summary person. He is the one who accurately captures the books that had, through usage in various congregations, become authoritative. The mainline recognizes as Scripture the 66 books (39 in the Old Testament and 27 in the New Testament). The Episcopal Church and the Lutherans give a special status to the books that comprise the Apocrypha, while the Presbyterians, United Church of Christ (UCC), and Methodists do not. $SSURDFKHVWR6FULSWXUH The primary approaches to Scripture among the mainline are as follows.2 The first is the conservative evangelical approach, which stresses the immediate engagement of the reader with the text. The second is the liberal–experiential approach, which stresses the importance of the experience of God behind the text. The third is the Christological approach, where the Barthian distinction between the two Words is important. (Karl Barth is the distinguished Swiss theologian who stressed the centrality of Christ in the interpretation of Scripture.) The fourth is the ecclesial approach (ecclesial is a technical word for “church”), where the community of interpretation is central. This is the approach taken by Stephen Fowl's influential book Engaging Scripture. The fifth approach is the liberationist approach, where the prophetic stand of Scripture tends to challenge the other parts of the text. Starting then with the conservative evangelical approach, this is found as a significant minority in all the mainline. For the Anglicans, James Packer, the author of Knowing God would be representative. For the Lutherans, John Warwick Montgomery has defended the inerrancy of Scripture. Both Packer and Montgomery link Christology with their view of Scripture. In Christ, the human and the divine are perfectly woven together; likewise, in Scripture, the human and divine are perfectly woven together. When the modern world started to treat the Bible “just like any other book,” the agency of the Holy Spirit was denied. The result was “higher criticism” that undermined the unity and integrity of Scripture. Kern Robert Trembath describes this evangelical approach to Scripture as “deductivist.” He defines such an approach as “one that reflects the understanding that knowledge is grounded upon beliefs which are not subject to empirical verification but nevertheless guide or influence empirical observations.”3 Such approaches tend to start with the doctrine of God and then, given such a doctrine of God, attempt to determine what sort of Bible would be expected. This approach does not start with the text and then try and work out what God is doing, but operates the other way round. Now, as Trembath admits, John Warwick Montgomery would contest the claim that his approach is deductive (starting with God and then coming to Scripture). In fact, Montgomery would claim that he is advocating an “inductive inerrancy” (i.e. that a careful reading of Scripture demonstrates that it is a text without errors). However, Trembath is right: Montgomery does not demonstrate that a natural reading of the text suggests a text with no errors at all. It is not surprising that the majority of scholars in the mainline are moving away from this approach to Scripture. Christian Smith calls this approach “Biblicism” and insists that in the end it cannot be used consistently. Smith writes: Biblicism is impossible. It literally does not work as it claims that it does and should. Biblicism does not live up to its own promises to produce an authoritative biblical teaching by which Christians can believe and live. Instead, Biblicism produces myriad “biblical” teachings on a host of peripheral and crucial theological issues. Together those teachings lack coherence and are not infrequently contradictory. Biblicism does not add up.4 This is more than the traditional objections to inerrancy. Christian Smith takes for granted that Genesis one does not read like a historical, scientific narrative (it is much more like a poem); the books of Chronicles and Kings do disagree; it is not clear exactly how Judas died; and it is difficult to believe that the sun stopped moving in Joshua – especially given the sun is not moving in relationship with the earth. Instead for Christian Smith, an evangelical himself, the problem is that the reality of the pluralism of interpretations is not taken seriously. Smith illustrates this very well in one very long sentence: Divergent views based on different readings of the Bible also involve many other significant topics – including the role of “good works” in salvation, proper worship protocols, the value of reason and rationality in faith, supersessionism (whether God's “old covenant” promises to the Jews have been replaced by the “new covenant”), martial submission and equality, the legitimacy of creeds and confessions, the nature of life after death, the possible legitimacy and nature of ordained ministry, the morality of slavery, the theological significance of Mary, the ethics of wealth, views of private property, creation and evolution, the nature of depravity and original sin, salvation of the Jews, use of statues and images in devotion and worship, the status of Old Testament laws, the importance of a “conversion experience,” the perseverance of the saints, church discipline, birth control, tithing, dealing with the “weaker brother,” the meaning of material prosperity, abortion, corporal punishment, capital punishment, asceticism, economic ethics, the wearing of jewelry and makeup, celibacy, drinking alcohol, homosexuality, the “anti-Christ,” believers' relations to culture, church-state relations, and – last but not least – the nature and purpose of the Bible itself.5 Conservative evangelical scholars would argue that if we cannot be confident about the Bible then how can we be confident about our theology? The response to this is that it looks like God has not given us such confidence. At the very least, conservative evangelicals must concede the appearance of error in the text. And this would then provoke the obvious question: why does God undermine our confidence in the text by allowing the appearance of error? Christian Smith is right: “Biblicism forces a gap between what the Bible actually is and what its theory demand that the Bible be.”6 We need to treat the Bible as the book that God has actually given us, rather than wish for a book that is different. A further related difficulty is worth noting. This approach to Scripture tends to have a deep suspicion of hermeneutics. Hermeneutics is the task of interpreting Scripture. We all know that the Bible is interpreted by different people in different ways: some people think Genesis is more like a poem, others sees it as scientific history. These are differences of interpretation. In an important book called The Fall of Interpretation, James Smith (sorry, yet another scholar called Smith) argues that evangelicals are too often inclined to see interpretation of the text as a consequence of the Fall. So in Eden, we enjoyed an intimacy with God, where interpretation was not necessary. However, as sin entered the world, so a distance arises between humanity and God that requires interpretation. Those committed to the inerrancy of the Bible want the text to be free from the challenge of the Fall. They want a reliable communications system. So James Smith writes: Metaphysics and fundamentalism have an extremely reliable – I should say “infallible” – postal system. It is a telecommunications network equipped with unbreakable lines, virus-proof computers and the latest technological advances. Acquiring this inerrant technology means always receiving God's Word unmediated and unaffected by the postal and telecommunications system.7 For James Smith, there are two difficulties with this. The first is that in truth the setting and location of the reader does affect the interpretation of the text. Who we are and how we look at the world have a significant influence on our reading of the Bible. The second is that we should not see interpretation as a result of the Fall. Instead it is part of the divinely intended structure of creation. God made us so we would have to struggle with the challenge of interpretation. Direct uncomplicated access was never the idea. We turn then to the second approach within the mainline. This we are calling the “liberal–experiential” approach. The classic account was provided in 1929 by C.H. Dodd (1884–1973). For Dodd, revelation is less contained in the actual sentences that make up the Bible, but instead in the experiences that humanity has of God that lies behind the sentences. So we are less interested in the struggle to harmonize the actual words of Jesus across the Gospels, and more interested in the experiences of the disciples that gave rise to the Gospels. It is the experience behind the text that matters, not the actual words of the text. C.H. Dodd also saw the revelation as “progressive.” Dodd writes: We observe a process that as a whole must be called progressive. At each stage of the process we observe individuals who gathered up in themselves the tendencies of the process, criticized them by some spontaneous power of insight, and redirected the process in its succeeding stages. That which these individuals contributed was a vision of God, determined by what they themselves were.8 For Dodd, the climax of this process was Jesus. It is in Jesus we have the fullest disclosure of the nature of God. For Dodd, the prophets of the Old Testament – the Hebrew Bible – were definitely inspired, but their insight was always partial. However, while the fullest disclosure is in Jesus, the process of disclosure continues into the present day. Scripture is the poetic and artistic masterpiece that captures a process into which we are all invited. This approach is called liberal–experiential because it is liberal, in that a particular text is not binding on the Church and it allows a pluralism of interpretations, and is experiential because it is the experience behind the text that matters. The text itself is less important. Critics of this approach have a number of concerns. The first surrounds the actual authority of Scripture. Is a closed canon a good idea? Could we in principle add texts to Scripture – insert sections of Shakespeare and take out the book of Revelation? It seems to some critics that this approach does not justify exactly why these books matter. The second is that the image of “progressive” revelation is seen by some as anti-Jewish and as assuming an almost evolutionary (things are just improving slowly over time) world view. However, there are strengths. It takes us away from a fixation on the actual text; it places revelation in a larger context. It does not impose on the Bible something it is not. This entire approach has had a very significant impact on the mainline. However, although Dodd believes that Jesus is the climax of the biblical revelation, it was the work of Karl Barth (1886–1968) and others that made Christ the lens through which we interpret Scripture.9 It is this that is our third approach. The third method we are calling the Christological approach. In Christian Smith's study of Biblicism, he concludes with an appeal for evangelicals to make Christ the interpretative lens of Scripture. Read the text through what we have learned of God in Christ. This is the key to this position. Smith correctly gives much of the credit for this approach to Karl Barth – the brilliant theologian who dominated much of the early twentieth-century European theology. The central insight of this approach is to distinguish between the two Words. For Christians, the primary Word of God is the Word Made Flesh. So the author of John's Gospel explains in that remarkable beginning: In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and was God. … And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. (John 1:1, 12) Christians believe that the definitive disclosure of God is the Eternal Word. It is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, which primarily tells us who God is. We learn about God from the person of Jesus. Once the Eternal Word Made Flesh (i.e. Jesus of Nazareth) is considered the primary Word of God, then we can turn our attention to the written word (i.e. the Bible). For Karl Barth the purpose of the Bible is to witness to the Eternal Word. It is in the text of Scripture that we learn everything we need to know about Jesus; and what we know about God in Christ can and should inform our interpretation of Scripture. The advantages of this position are easy to see. It means that we have a vitally important interpretative lens through which Scripture is interpreted. It is the encounter with Christ that is central; and the purpose of Scripture is to facilitate that encounter. Karl Barth had an interesting line on higher criticism. Basically, he was uninterested. The fact that Moses did not write the Pentateuch was incidental to the effectiveness of the Pentateuch to point us to the God revealed in Christ who is calling all humanity to live as God required. The fourth approach makes the community of the Church central. In the United States, the group of theologians who stress this approach are loosely gathered around the “post-liberal” school. It was George Lindbeck, the remarkable theologian who spent most of his career at Yale, who suggested that the significance of the community of interpretation has been so often overlooked in theology. For Lindbeck, all knowledge comes through communities. If you are in science, then an interpretative community of scientists becomes your conversation partners and the lens through which you make sense of data in your discipline. What is true in science is also true in theology. Now for Lindbeck, this does not result in relativism (the view that there is no way of deciding between different community interpretations), but it is a recognition that discovery of truth depends on joining a community because there is no other way in which knowledge in any discipline can be transmitted. Lindbeck has had a major influence on contemporary mainline theology. The best defense and development of a post-liberal view of Scripture is the remarkable Engaging Scripture by Stephen Fowl. Fowl describes his argument thus: [T]he central argument of this book is that, given the ends towards which Christians interpret their scripture, Christian interpretation of scripture needs to involve a complex interaction in which Christian convictions, practices, and concerns are brought to bear on scriptural interpretation in ways that both shape that interpretation and are shaped by it.10 Fowl distinguishes between three accounts of interpretation. Determinate interpretation seeks clarity; this is the approach that wants to uncover the meaning of the biblical text. Anti-determinate interpretation wants to exercise a “hermeneutics of suspicion” (i.e. it wants to look for the ulterior motives that underpin many traditional interpretations). Fowl takes the work of Derrida as his way into this approach. Against these two approaches, Fowl wants to argue for an underdetermined interpretation. This approach “recognizes a plurality of interpretative practices and results.”11 Crucial to this approach is an emphasis on the ways in which Christians attend “to the question of how they can order their lives, practices, and their biblical interpretation with a sufficient vigilance to read scripture in such a way that they avoid sinful practices.”12 The idea here is that the Christian community is central; it needs to be a community that makes forgiveness, repentance, and reconciliation central. In addition, the agency of the Holy Spirit is central in this process. In the same way as the Holy Spirit is vital in the process of interpretation around the inclusions of Gentiles in the early Church, so the work of the Holy Spirit will be central when it comes to contemporary discussions around inclusion. The fifth approach is a liberationist approach. The term “liberationist” captures a movement that wants to read Scripture with the ethical priority of liberating the reading so the text supports an agenda of freedom and justice. For advocates of this approach, the text is too often a vehicle of oppression. This movement has its roots in the liberation theologians of South America who argued that the individualist gospel of the west is serving the interests of the rich and powerful, while in actual fact the text of Scripture supports a political community-orientated reading. In other words, the focus of so much preaching is on personal salvation that leads to life after death. Yet the story of the Exodus (where an oppressed people are in slavery and then liberated by God's intervention) and the preaching of Jesus (which talks a great deal about the evils of excessive wealth with virtually nothing about sex) are all about freeing the people from the challenge of oppression. From this vantage point, the text needs to be read in a liberating way. So although there are texts that support slavery, the doctrine that every person is created in the image of God should enable us to see that slavery is incompatible with the biblical insight. Although there are texts that support patriarchy, Paul's insight that “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28) implies a fundamental equality between the sexes. Although there are texts that appear to denounce homosexuals, a liberationist reading stresses that the gospel values of justice should lead us to recognize that such texts emerged from a culture unaware of the reality of sexual orientation. Critics of this approach worry about whether this is too reductionist. Scripture is no longer a text about God's relationship with humanity, but a political agenda. However, many in the mainline combine this approach to the text with one of the earlier approaches. 3HZ6WXG\ߙ%LEOLFDO,OOLWHUDF\ Given the ever-increasing challenge of biblical illiteracy, in their book Move, authors Greg L. Hawkins and Cally Parkinson, citing their extensive research, claim that regular Bible reading is the single greatest factor in spiritual growth. The power of being immersed in the Bible is undeniable. We know that reading and reflecting on the Scriptures is critical to spiritual growth … there may be nothing more important we can do with our time and effort than encouraging and equipping our people in this practice.13 &RQFOXVLRQ All Christians are in conversation with Scripture. It remains the central authority for our life and witness. Compared to the Roman Catholic and Evangelical tradition, the mainline tends to be more liberal. The text of Scripture is carefully read in context. Almost all the leadership in the mainline recognizes the legitimacy of what is called “higher criticism” (approaches to the biblical text that recognize the way in which different sources have been compiled). The majority of Christians in the mainline do not think there is a conflict between the truth of science (namely, the processes of natural selection) and the message of Genesis 1 (namely, that God creates the world). So although there are significant representatives of the first interpretative approach – the conservative evangelical approach, the majority of the mainline would identify with one of the other approaches. It is the approach to Scripture that lies behind the more generous theology that shapes much of the mainline. Any of the strategies that shape approaches two to five frees the Christian to be more generous to other faith traditions, more committed to social justice, and less obligated to defend passages that seem to authorize genocide. For critics of the mainline, this is a problem. The text of Scripture is not being treated as authoritative. For defenders of the mainline, this is the strength. Scripture is being treated seriously and not forced to be something it is not. 1RWHV 1. See Lee Martin McDonald, The Origin of the Bible: A Guide for the Perplexed (London and New York: T&T Clark International, 2011), 67f. 2. There are several different ways in which this debate can be handled. The five positions identified here are our own. 3. Kern Robert Trembath, Evangelical Theories of Biblical Inspiration: A Review and Proposal (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 8. 4. Christian Smith, The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism is not a truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture (Grand Rapids, IL: Brazos Press, 2011), 173. 5. Ibid., 27–28. 6. Ibid., 128. 7. James K.A. Smith, The Fall of Interpretation: Philosophical Foundations for a Creational Hermeneutic (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2000), 47. 8. C.H. Dodd, The Authority of the Bible, Revised Edition (Glasgow: Collins Fount, 1960), 255. 9. For the purposes of clarity, Barth was not directly in conversation with C.H. Dodd; he was working on a much larger canvas, mainly involving Schleiermacher. 10. Stephen Fowl, Engaging Scripture: A Model for Theological Interpretation (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), 8. 11. Ibid., 10. 12. Ibid., 61. 13. Greg L. Hawkins and Cally Parkinson, Move (Zondervan, 2011), 119. $QQRWDWHG%LEOLRJUDSK\ F.F. Bruce, The Canon of the Scripture (Glasgow: Chapter House, 1988). This text remains a classic. He takes a careful, informed line, which both explains the selection of books and defends the selection. Stephen E. Fowl, Engaging Scripture: A Model for Theological Interpretation (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998). One of the most imaginative books looking at Scripture to be published in the past 30 years. Fowl makes the role of the Church central in the interpretation of Scripture. Lee Martin McDonald, The Origin of the Bible: A Guide for the Perplexed (New York: T&T Clark International, 2011). Worth reading alongside Bruce. For McDonald, the evolution of the canon is more complicated and more open. A good model of contemporary scholarship. Kern Robert Trembath, Evangelical Theories of Biblical Inspiration: A Review and Proposal (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987). A solid survey of historical and contemporary approaches to biblical inspiration among evangelicals. Christian Smith, The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism is Not a Truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture (Grand Rapids, IL: Brazos Press, 2011). The problem with an approach that claims inerrancy and certainty for Scripture is that it ignores the actual way the Bible is. Even evangelicals are forced to admit a range of plausible readings of the text, this pluralism is evidence that such an approach to Scripture does not work. Instead, the key is to read the text through the lens of Christ. In so doing, one arrives at a much more authentic evangelical approach to Scripture. James K.A. Smith, The Fall of Interpretation: Philosophical Foundations for a Creational Hermeneutic (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2000). Smith makes the interesting argument that we need to move away from seeing the challenge of interpretation as a result of the Fall and instead see it as built into the very structures of creation. An interesting argument that puts Derrida and evangelical scholars in the same camp.  &RQQHFWLQJWKH7KHRORJLFDO 'RWV Theology literally means “talk” (from the Greek word logos) about God (from the Greek word Theos). For many Christians, the very word “theology” provokes some apprehension. Doctrines of the Trinity or Incarnation or Atonement are rightly perceived as difficult and complicated. As a result, many leaders of congregations are tempted to avoid explicit theology. Yet theology is important. Christianity is a tradition that invites a person into a particular world view – a particular understanding of how the world is. Articulating this worldview is the work of “theology.” The doctrinal claim that “there is a God” means that we live in a world intended by divine agency, rather than a cosmic fluke or accident. It means that the universe is here for a purpose. We are not simply complex bundles of atoms that emerged from nowhere and ultimately face extinction when we die. It is an entirely different way of seeing the world. And it is the work of doctrine to express that different way of looking at the world. In addition, Christians believe that God has spoken: in other words, we know what God is like because God has told us. Along with prophets and the disclosure of God in history, for Christians, the primary disclosure of God is a life – the life of Jesus of Nazareth; this life is our ultimate authority as to what God is like. Given we believe in the Incarnation, we find ourselves forced to talk about one God who relates to us in three contrasting ways. This entire narrative – this world view – has embedded within it a set of beliefs. Learning to understand and explain these beliefs is important. A good congregational leader needs to be able to connect the theological dots. This chapter will start with a brief description of the heart of the Christian world view, namely the claim that God was in Christ and therefore God is triune. This description captures the work that the Church did in the initial centuries when the major creeds were written. It is a description that is shared across the entire ecumenical Christian family. Then in the second section, we will look at certain differences in theological outlook, which emerged during the Reformation and continue to shape the differences between the denominations that make up the mainline. Finally, in the third section we introduce a tension that is found within each denomination and across the mainline, namely the “liberal” and “conservative” divide. 0DLQOLQH6KDUHG%HOLHIV Christianity has Jewish roots. The Hebrew Bible is an important part of the Christian scriptures. Abraham is credited as the “father” of the Abrahamic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). He is the one who made monotheism central and stressed the demands that God wants to make on all lives. Jesus is a Jew. He grew up believing that the one true God had a covenant relationship with the Jewish people. However, as he attracted disciples, so those close to him saw more in the life, much more. Elsewhere in this book, we have looked at the nature of the Bible. We saw that interpreting Scripture is not easy; and there are plenty of disagreements about the historicity of this or that. So what follows is the picture of Jesus emerging from Scripture that proved important for subsequent doctrine. The Gospels are carefully woven together stories about Jesus. Stories about blind people regaining sight and the lame walking were central. The teaching of Jesus included a call for transformed values, where the poor were affirmed and the rich were challenged. In addition, Jesus had a message about himself. He was not simply a Rabbi (teacher), but also an agent who anticipated and in some sense embodied the coming reign of God. He claimed to have the authority to forgive sins; people marveled at the authority underpinning his teaching. The writers of the Gospels struggled with this side of Jesus. Mark (the earliest of the four gospels) sees Jesus as an agent of the eschaton (the end of the world); Matthew sees Jesus as the new Moses bringing the new law; Luke sees Jesus as the agent who realigns the world in accordance with God's values; and John brings all these images together with the resolute declaration that Jesus is the pre-existent Word Made Flesh. These stories about and reflections on Jesus found in the Gospels run parallel with another significant trajectory. It is worth remembering that when we look at the New Testament, the order of the books is misleading. The order might lead us to suppose that the Gospels were written before the Epistles (letters). However, the truth is the opposite. Most of the Epistles were written before the Gospels. Many of the Epistles are written by the apostle Paul. And here you see the development of worship of Jesus. Larry Hurtado's major study on “devotion to Jesus in earliest Christianity” is enormously important. As one reads the New Testament, the affirmation “Jesus is Lord” pulsates throughout the text. So many passages are a celebration of Jesus (e.g. Colossians 1:15– 20, Acts 2:36, and Philippians 2:1–11). Hurtado shows that this devotion to Jesus did not emerge gradually but exploded onto the scene. Hurtado writes: Christians were proclaiming and worshipping Jesus, indeed, living and dying for his sake, well before the doctrinal/creedal developments of the second century. … Moreover, devotion to Jesus as divine erupted suddenly and quickly, not gradually and late, among first-century circles of followers. More specifically, the origins lie in Jewish Christian circles of the earliest years.1 The sudden eruption, coupled with its home amongst Jewish monotheism, is clear evidence of the remarkable impact that the totality of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection had on the first Christians. Here we have Jews, who at considerable personal cost, believe in one God yet want to pray to and worship Jesus. Monotheistic Jews know that one can only worship God. So if these Jews looked at Jesus and wanted to worship Jesus, then their practice meant that they were worshipping God made flesh. This provokes two questions: can we trust the closest witnesses to Jesus that this life is indeed God made flesh? And second, how is it possible that God can be one, yet be manifest in bodily form as a human? On the first, there are many reasons why we can trust the closest witnesses. The Gospels have, to use J.B. Phillips' lovely phrase, the “ring of truth.”2 The selection of Gospels was very considered. By the time the early Church was making decisions about the canon of the New Testament, there were plenty of books purporting to be Gospels. They had lots of choice. Many of them were much more interesting and spectacular. The Infancy Gospel of Thomas, for example, had some great stories about Jesus as a child, which includes the story of Jesus creating clay birds into which he breathed life. However, the early Church rejected such Gospels. They wanted texts as close as possible to the apostles. They wanted the texts that were restrained and considered; the texts that accurately reflected the life of Jesus. The four Gospels reveal a man who was constantly reaching out to others, understood that he had a significant role, issued a challenge to all he met, and was willing to die for these values. The way death is handled and the stories of his triumph over death in the resurrection are powerful and compelling. In addition, almost all of these early witnesses were martyred for their convictions. They paid the ultimate price for their beliefs. So today, as we read the New Testament, we can understand why the disciples believed Jesus worthy of worship. The second question about the Christian belief about the nature of God in the light of the Incarnation is answered by way of the Creeds. Thanks to Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code the Creeds are viewed with some suspicion. Dan Brown suggests that a Roman Emperor, fearful of divisions in the Empire, deliberately forced through an orthodoxy, which crushed many counter traditions. The truth is much more complicated than Brown suggests. Although it is true that the Creeds were a result of considerable argument and that the Roman Emperor Constantine (272–337 CE) was interested in doctrinal unity, the Creeds were ultimately driven by sound theological considerations. The two most important texts were the Creed emerging out of the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE and the declaration emerging out of the Council of Constantinople in 452 CE. In the first the issue was monotheism; in the second the issue was the Incarnation. The solutions of the Church to the conundrum of how monotheists can believe that God can be present as a human and simultaneously the Creator of everything are very imaginative. The starting point is a biblical image. Scripture talks about God as “Father” and Jesus as the “Son.” Now this metaphor is understood by the Church Fathers to capture the difference between the source – the Father, the Creator – and the revealer – the Son. In the same way as we often see a parent in the looks or behavior of a child, so we are invited to see the nature of God, the Father, in the revealer, the Son. Starting with this metaphor, an argument developed that led to the doctrine of the Trinity, which had the following steps: 1. The Son has perfectly interpenetrated the life of Jesus of Nazareth so that we can see God in that life. In the same way that words are expressions of thoughts, so Jesus is the Word of God (the expression of God's thoughts in human form). If you want to know what God is like, then you need to look at the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. 2. Now God's “speech” in Jesus cannot simply start in Jesus' life. This would undermine the nature of God as unchanging. The speech of God must always be part of God. In addition, given we believe in one God, the two aspects of God must be connected. 3. Therefore the Father and the Son must be in some perfect eternal relationship. These three steps were formulated at the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE. Prior to that Council, Arius (ca. 256–336 CE) was arguing that monotheism means that everything must be created by the source (by the Father). However, Athanasius (296–373 CE) (his great rival and the man who did more than anyone to shape the debates at Nicaea) insisted that monotheism needs the Son to be in an eternal relationship with Father. This is because of step 2 – the Word of God – the eternal Wisdom of God – is part of God. God's speech doesn't just begin. In addition, Athanasius argued that God's appearance to humanity in Jesus is how God is in every respect. Michael Higton, in a rather nice summary of former Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, writes:  [T]here is nowhere we can go in God, no extra we can think about or point to, no reservation, no sanctuary, in which God is not engaged, involved, loving, and relational. God is love, all the way down.4 $WKDQDVLXV Athanasius was the great hero of the orthodox. But he was extremely pugnacious. When he first started taking issue with the heretic Arius, he was in his early 20s. According to William Placher, “He had according to tradition, unusually dark skin, a hooked nose, and a red beard, and he was so small that his opponents called him a dwarf.”3 There was a time apparently when he once grabbed Emperor Constantine's horse and hung on to the bridle until the Emperor had conceded a theological point. As a result he occasionally made himself unpopular; so much so, he was exiled five times to different parts of the Empire. He did however, live a good long life. He died when he was about 80. Now thus far, the focus has been on the Father and Son. There is another important biblical metaphor – the Spirit – that needs to be developed. In the original draft of the Creed, the Spirit gets a mention (just one line “We believe in the Holy Spirit”), and over the next 30 years or so the concept of the Holy Spirit is clarified. The primary function of the Holy Spirit is to find a way of talking about the aspect of God that makes God present to us. Primarily the work of the Father is “Creator” (which is mainly a past event); and primarily the work of the Son is “Revealer” and “Redeemer” (which is also a past event). As Jesus, the physical embodiment of the Word is removed from the presence of the disciples at the Ascension, so the Spirit is sent. The Spirit is the aspect of God that constantly makes the Father and the Son real to the Church. In fact all of God's agency is mediated through the agency of the Spirit. As the Church found itself talking about God in these three ways, so the Church determined that the language of the Trinity was essential. As John Macquarrie puts it, “the doctrine of the Trinity safeguards a dynamic as opposed to a static understanding of God.”5 It is actually intended to protect monotheism. The doctrine of the Trinity links these three elements together to create a unity. So Christians have their sense of God as source, revealer, and agent in the present, but all three are part of the one. Now as the Church sorted out the concept of God implied by the reality of worshipping God in Jesus, it then turned its attention to the dynamics embedded in the life of Jesus himself. Clearly Jesus was human; he walked, talked, ate, and slept. However, given the Church is worshipping Jesus, Jesus must also be God. Exactly how these two relate is obviously tricky. Chalcedon attempted to resolve this problem. Now interestingly, although both Nicaea and Chalcedon were controversial, Chalcedon was more so. However, the majority of Christians found it compelling. Against two extremes, Chalcedon opted for the middle way. One extreme was adoptionism (the view that Jesus was a human who was especially commissioned by God to be an agent of God); this view stresses the humanity of Jesus. The other extreme was docetism (the view that Jesus was completely God and his bodily flesh was simply a cloak that covered his divinity). Chalcedon rejected both by affirming both. Jesus is completely God and completely human. It set rules for our language – for our talk about God. Never say anything about Jesus that implies that he is less than fully human; and never say anything about Jesus that implies that he is less than fully God. Chalcedon does not seek to answer the question as to precisely what Jesus is. Instead it seeks to preclude inappropriate talk. There were many reasons why this position made sense to the Church. Soteriology (the theory of how Jesus saves us) and liturgy (the various rituals of the Church) were important. However, the primary purpose of the language is to safeguard the amazing idea that in a life you can see the Eternal Wisdom of God. The language makes sure that we really have a life and, simultaneously, a God in all God's greatness visible in that life. The purpose of this summary is to sketch out a way in which we can understand the achievement of these councils. In all its brevity, it attempts to show that these Creeds matter. They are real attempts to struggle to make sense of the grammar of the Christian faith – to make our talk about God and God's relations to Jesus and to the present intelligible. Although there are plenty of theologians who are continuing the conversation, the account offered above is one that captures the intent and achievement of the Fathers. When it comes to doctrine, the “official” position of the mainline continues to affirm these councils and the achievement of these Creeds. Recognition as a “Christian denomination” depends on this. Later in this chapter, we shall look at the “progressive” and “conservative” divide. 7KH)RXU(FXPHQLFDO&RXQFLOV&RQFHUQLQJWKH 1DWXUHRI*RGDQG&KULVW Council of Nicaea (325 CE). Establishment of a creed of beliefs. Council of Constantinople (381 CE). Approval of the Nicene Creed, and a condemnation of Apollinarianism. Council of Ephesus (431 CE). Repudiated Nestorianism, affirmed Mary as the “theotokos” (God-bearer). Council of Chalcedon (451 CE). Affirmed Jesus Christ as both fully divine and fully human. 7KHRORJLFDO2XWORRNV$ULVLQJIURPWKH 5HIRUPDWLRQ It is Martin Luther who gets the credit for the Reformation. Luther was born in Saxony. He became a priest in 1507 and a professor of biblical studies at the University of Wittenberg in 1512. It was his knowledge of Scripture that made him uncomfortable with the approach taken by the Roman Catholic Church. As we will note in Chapter 7, he revisited certain biblical themes and made them central to his theology. Instead of a theology that depended on “works” (paying the penance, buying indulgences), Martin Luther argued that faith and grace were what mattered. He rediscovered the major themes of Paul's Epistle to the Church in Rome. It isn't what we do that matters, but what God has already done. It is not that we work hard to become righteous, but that God through Christ has already made us righteous. As he developed these arguments, so a new tradition slowly emerged. He inspired the tradition that we know today as the Lutheran denomination. Carl Braaten, a contemporary Lutheran theologian, has identified eight principles that capture the essence of Lutheran theology. The first is the canonical principle. For Luther, Scripture matters because it conveys the Gospel (the good news). The second is the confessional principle. The Church confesses (shares) its insights with others and often these take the form of statements of faith. The third is the ecumenical principle, a recognition of deep connections with other Christians. The fourth is the Trinitarian principle. The doctrine of salvation depends on all three persons of the Trinity being in operation. The fifth is the Christocentric principle. For Luther, the work of Christ on the cross is central. The sixth is the sacramental principle; Christ really is present in the bread and the wine. The seventh is the law/Gospel principle; we are ultimately saved through faith not works. The eighth is the two kingdoms principle; there is a complex link between salvation and the kingdom of God. Meanwhile in Geneva, John Calvin was starting to articulate his distinctive theology. Calvin was trained in theology in Paris. In 1533 or so, Calvin read Martin Luther's writings and this was a factor in his break from the Roman Catholic Church. He was given an opportunity to create a “proper Christian society” when he moved to Geneva. Here, he not only had the space to write and reflect and create his distinctive reformed theology, but he also implemented a particular political vision of society. A distinguished Bible scholar, Calvin immersed himself in the biblical world view. He was not striving to create a new religion, but to “reform” the current Christian tradition. The control on his theology was the Bible. If an idea was not in Scripture, then it should be discarded. A polity emerged that stressed the importance of the lay voice. He argued that the biblical witness does not simply affirm God's central role in the drama of salvation, but God's central role in the drama of creation. For Calvin, God is sovereign. God is in control of everything that happens: and humans are deeply mired in sin. His theology stressed the doctrine of predestination. From eternity past, God chose those who were redeemed. All of this can be found in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. He inspired the traditions that are known in the United States as the Presbyterians and the Congregationalists (the United Church of Christ, UCC). Back in England, King Henry VIII (1491–1547) needed a male heir. His current wife was Catherine of Aragon, and he wanted to marry Anne Boleyn. Having opposed Martin Luther and written a book defending the seven sacraments, for which he was honored by the Pope, he did not want to make a radical theological move away from the Roman Catholic Church. However, for a whole host of complex reasons, an annulment was not granted by the Pope. So King Henry VIII took a dramatic step. He declared himself “head” of the English Church. The Pope no longer had authority over the English Church. It took his daughter – Queen Elizabeth I (1533–1603) – to create the distinctive outlook of Anglicanism. Theologically, this was a tradition that walked in-between Rome and Geneva. It shared the sacramental emphasis of Rome and the emphasis on the Bible of Geneva. The Anglican tradition had emerged; the Episcopal Church was to become an offspring of this tradition. English Anglicanism had its own problems in the eighteenth century. So much so, that a society emerged in Oxford known as the “Holiness Society.” A group of young men, wanted to recover the piety of the early Church, and felt that this needed a revival. Two brothers proved important – John and Charles Wesley. John Wesley (1703–1791) was an inspired preacher and organizer; Charles Wesley (1707–1788) was a gifted preacher and hymn writer. Although neither saw themselves as leaving the Church of England, they finally felt impelled to allow the “ordination” of other ministers to be permitted. As a result a new denomination had emerged; the Methodist Church had been born. At this point distinctive theological approaches had emerged across the mainline. The Lutherans and the Anglicans were closest to the Roman Catholic Church. The Presbyterians, UCC, and the Methodists were further away. /LEHUDODQG&RQVHUYDWLYH The Reformation provoked a certain theological spectrum to emerge. The Enlightenment provoked a different theological spectrum to emerge. Where the Reformation provoked questions that interpreted theological language in different ways, the Enlightenment provoked questions that challenged theological language. The Enlightenment describes a European movement of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, which stressed the importance of reason. Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), the great Prussian philosopher, was the person who used the expression “Enlightenment.” For Kant, we were moving from an age that made arguments from authority central, to an age that made reason central. Kant credits David Hume (1711–1776), the Scottish philosopher, for waking Kant from “his slumbers.” Hume's theme that pervades all this philosophy is “how do you know?” Hume wondered about miracles (and provided strong arguments for skepticism); he didn't think the arguments for God's existence were that convincing (although he was mischievous in the Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, where he appeared to suggest that the modern day deist design advocate was convincing); and even science he found puzzling. The Enlightenment created a new theological divide. This time it was between those who wanted to change the faith in the light of modernity and those who did not. This was the liberal–conservative divide. Unlike the denominational divides, this one crosses denominations. So we find that liberal Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Methodists have more in common with each other than they do with their own conservative counterparts within their own denomination. The world has slowly changed. Conservatives across denominations work together (on such things as abortion) and liberals across denominations work together (on such things as gay rights). For the liberals, the faith must adapt or die. The Episcopal bishop John Shelby Spong is representative. In a series of books, he has sketched out a powerful manifesto for a modern faith. His primary theme is that “we must change or die.”6 In the end, he argues, a faith that clings to outmoded ethics or cosmology cannot survive. So he wants a faith that takes seriously biblical criticism. We know that the Bible is not without error; we know that the values of the Bible in various passages are pre-modern (it affirms slavery, patriarchy, and homophobia); and we know that the Gospel authors were not journalists (they had a pre-modern understanding of the past, which meant that they were more than happy to “invent” stories about the past that applied to their present). Spong wanted a faith that made sense of science. There is no question that evolution enabled humanity to emerge on this planet. Science makes the traditional miracle unlikely (the Bible treats epilepsy as if it were demon possession). Indeed he went so far to say that we need to move beyond theism (belief in a personal God) into a more spiritual realm. Spong also wanted a faith that sets forth a progressive ethical agenda. The Church, he argued, is constantly playing catch-up. Over the equality of women, the Church was one of the last organizations to allow women to have leadership roles in Church (and still the extremes hold out); over racial equality, the Church did not take a lead; and over gay rights, the Church continues to be resistant. Spong argued that we need to get ahead of this curve. There is no doubt that Spong has kept many people in the Church. He writes for those in exile – those who have a spiritual sense but cannot cope with the hypocrisy and implausible of the Church. These women and men love his books and enjoy listening to him speak. The conservatives have their own representatives. The list is long: John Scott (Anglican), James Packer (Anglican), Tim Keller (Presbyterian), George Lindbeck (Lutheran), and Stanley Hauerwas (Methodist). The themes pervading all their work is the impoverished conceit of liberalism. It is impoverished because the faith that remains is abstract, limited, and unsatisfying. It was C.S. Lewis who observed that a “skeptic is much more likely to travel further in to Christianity then the liberal assumes.” If you are going to believe in the Christian drama, then you want to believe God who discloses the reality of God in Scripture and in Christ. You want to believe in divine agency, which might from time to time take a miraculous form. You are unlikely to lay down your life for the sake of a Gospel of skepticism. For the conservatives, the key issue is authority. This chapter started with the recognition that Christian theology assumes that somewhere, somehow God has spoken. God has revealed God to the world. It was Karl Barth, the great Swiss reformed theologian, who made this point central to his theology. He insisted that any coherent theology depends on revelation. We need God to tell us. For Barth, if God has not spoken, then we are all agnostics because we are all guessing what God is like. &RQWHQWLRXV7KHRORJLFDO,VVXHV Since the beginning, theological issues rarely go away. The original questions that divided the Church (how can God be human, and the nature of the Trinity) continue to be a matter of conversation today. Significant issues emerging from the Reformation (nature of the sacraments, ecclesiology, and baptism) are still present, but perhaps less pronounced in the Christian consciousness. These differences between denominations have dissipated. Evangelicals from each tradition are willing to come together and stress rather more their agreements than doctrinal disagreements; liberals (who have a looser connection with doctrinal formulations) are willing to do the same. It is for these reasons that interest in ecumenical agreements is limited: for example, many lay people in the Anglican and Lutheran Churches do not realize that we have a concordat that permits extensive cooperation and mutual recognition. The energy in contemporary theology is primarily around methodology (how exactly do we “talk about God,” i.e. our system). The primary conversation in the mainline at the start of the twenty- first century is around three groups: the first is the revisionist group; the second is the postliberals; and the third is the liberationist group. We will conclude this chapter by looking at these three in some detail. 0HWKRGRORJ\LQ7KHRORJ\ The roots of revisionism are two distinguished twentieth-century theologians. Paul Tillich (1886–1965) was responsible for stressing the imperative of linking the Christian tradition with the ever-changing nature of modern society; he used the phrase “correlation” to describe this approach. One should seek to correlate the questions of modernity with the rich resources (and in a sense “answers”) of the tradition. A.N. Whitehead (1861–1947) provided much of the content of a revisionist theology. Where traditional theology worked with a set of assumptions that God was timeless and disconnected from the world, Whitehead inspired process theology, which saw God within time and intimately connected with the world. It was 1973 when the Chicago theologian David Tracy coined the expression “revisionism.” For Tracy, the work of the theologian is to “revise” the tradition so it works in the present. For Tracy, “the revisionist will … try to rectify earlier theological limitations both in the light of the new resources made available by further historical, philosophical, and social scientific research and reflection and in the light of the legitimate concerns and accomplishments of the later neo- orthodox and radical theological alternatives.”7 For Tracy, the revisionist theologian isn't afraid to recognize that mistakes have been made in the past and to recognize that theology must change to accommodate insights generated by science and historical studies, but also should learn from the liberation theologians (more about liberation theologians in a moment). The goal is to produce a theology that is intelligible to those outside the Church. We revise our theology to ensure it is a “public theology.” Tracy's work birthed a school – an entire approach taken by other theologians. Some are more conservative (they take the tradition more seriously) and others are much more radical (they are willing to question tradition in a variety of ways). Robert Neville in Boston has stressed the importance of other religions in revising the faith. Edward Farley wants to stress the importance of experience and with starting with humanity and this world, rather than God and heaven. Peter Hodgson used the phrase “constructive theology” – theology is a construct that needs to be built. And the Mennonite theologian Gordon Kaufman is the most radical of the group. He admits that much of his theology is “agnostic”; and God is reinterpreted to be a symbol that is less oppressive to the poor and yet still places a demand on humanity.8 Revisionism should be linked with the liberal theology described earlier in the chapter. The second school is the more conservative reaction to this theology. Writing back in 1989, William Placher compares the revisionist theologians and the postliberals when he writes: To oversimplify, the concern of the revisionist theology which dominates most academic circles in the United States is to preserve the public character of theology, that is, to find ways in which Christians can explain what they believe and argue for its truth in ways that non-Christians can understand. For the recently emerged postliberal theology, the theologian's task is more nearly simply to describe the Christian view of things.9 Placher goes on to clarify: Postliberal theologians note ad hoc conjunctions and analogies with the questions and beliefs of non-Christians, but their primary concern is to preserve the Christian vision free of distortion, and they mistrust systematic efforts to correlate Christian beliefs with more general claims about human experience, which seem to them always to risk constraining and distorting the Christian “answers” to fit the “questions” posed by some aspect of contemporary culture.10 The postliberal school has its roots in the theology of the famous Lutheran theologian George Lindbeck. It was in his book, The Nature of Doctrine (1984), that Lindbeck argued for a “cultural-linguistic” approach to religion.11 A religion is a language – a discourse of beliefs and practices – that emerges from a community that seeks to make sense of the world. The task of theology is to understand the grammar of faith – to see how all the parts connect together and provide a compelling set of beliefs and practices. Once Christians are clear about their own self-understanding, it is possible for them to converse with others. For the postliberal theologian the opening section of this chapter is crucial. It is the historic Creeds that capture of the essence of the Christian discourse. To be a Christian is to live within this Incarnational and Trinitarian narrative and appreciate its power and vision. The first two methodologies have dominated the North American theological academy. The third has its roots in South America. And this is the approach of liberation theology. There are two sources that have influenced this theology: the first is the Second Vatican Council of the Roman Catholic Church, also known as “Vatican II” (1962–1965); here a theology emerged that stressed the importance of Roman Catholic social teaching. The second source of liberation theology is the reality of income inequality in some parts of South America. When Scripture is read from the vantage point of the poor, then the Exodus is not simply a spiritualized journey from captivity to sin into hope, but also speaks to the deepest yearnings of the poor who recognize the political need to escape from the slavery they find themselves in and find ways to live in dignity. The classic text for liberation theology is Gustavo Gutiérrez's A Theology of Liberation. It is a contextual theology – one that stresses that the shape of a theology looks different depending on the vantage point of those doing the theology. It is a theology that stresses the political. The God of Scripture actually did hear the cries of those in slavery and set them free in the Exodus; the Jesus of the New Testament did actually stress the imperative of selling everything you have and giving it to the poor. For liberation theologians, God has a preferential option for the poor. With its close connection with the Roman Catholic Church, it was inevitable that the approach would be carefully examined by the Roman Catholic authorities. In 1984, the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith expressed concern about the elements of the theology that owed an explicit debt to Marxism. It is true that the Marxist insight that the superstructure of a culture (the law, theology, and philosophy) often reflects the economic base (which in a capitalist economy includes unjust economic relations) is developed by many liberation theologians. According to these theologians, it was the need of the rich to protect their wealth that led to the emergence in the west of a theology that stressed the afterlife and turned people into “souls on legs.” However, beyond this, the debt to Marxism was less than many claimed. Liberation theology is important because it birthed many other contextual theologies. Where liberation theology starts with the experience of the poor, feminist theologies focus on the experience of women. Black theology concentrates on the history of oppression of persons of African desce