You might have seen that Apple released its new product the iPad. (Boy, that name is going to be the source of a lot of jokes.)

There was a lot of excitement on my campus about the iPad as ACU is a leader in using mobile and Web 2.0 technology in the classroom. Also, from what I hear, Apple is going to make a run on high school and college textbooks with the iPad. No more bookbags. Just the iPad.

Given my status on campus as a blogger I've been involved in a lot of the experiments to use blogs in the classroom. Last year I filmed this bit of video reflecting on those experiences. I'm also posting this because many of you have never seen me in person. Well, here I am:

To recap, in Part 2 of The Deliverance of God Campbell works to create some distance between readers of Paul and Justification Theory. Justification Theory has been so dominant that it's difficult to approach Paul for a fresh reading. Some of this has to do with the fact that Justification Theory has played such a large role in church history, the Protestant Reformation in particular. Thus, for many people turning one's back on Justification Theory is tantamount to turning one's back on the Reformation. This raises the stakes considerably. So in my last post I reviewed how Campbell attempts to show that both Calvin and Luther leave us with a mixed legacy when it comes to Justification Theory. No doubt they both strongly endorsed the key tenets of the theory. However, as discussed in my last post, Calvin and Luther also articulated theological positions that significantly undermine the theological and exegetical integrity of Justification Theory. In short, in reevaluating and potentially jettisoning Justification Theory we are not turning our backs on the Reformation. We are, rather, simply working to reconcile the contradictions the Reformation passed onto us.

Having discussed the church-historical issues that complicate the debates surrounding Justification Theory, Campbell goes on to consider the way Justification Theory has also been propped up by aspects of modernity. This part of The Deliverance of God was very interesting to me.

Campbell's argument is that Justification Theory is hard to dislodge because it is, in many different ways, a product of modernity. That is, Justification Theory embodies the values and ideas of modernity. This close alliance with modernity makes Justification Theory "feel right" to us given our modern sensibilities. This is deeply problematic because it makes it difficult for modern readers of Paul to criticize Justification Theory. Because if we criticize the theory we end up challenging some of the deepest values and prejudices of the modern spirit. To challenge Justification Theory, then, is to challenge the modern worldview. As with the Reformation, this raises the stakes considerably.

Let me briefly summarize the way Campbell describes the unholy alliance between Justification Theory and modernity. Specifically, we'll discuss the way Justification Theory shares modern notions of selfhood, epistemology, politics and economics.

Modern Notions of Selfhood and Epistemology
In the very first post of this series I reviewed some of the basic features of Justification Theory. Specifically, we described the introverted and epistemological nature of the journey of faith. This inward turn to find certainty should be familiar to many. It is, at root, the same path René Descartes took when he turned inward with his method of methodological doubt. You'll recall, if you forgot your Philosophy 101 class, that Descartes famously decided to deny the truth of all things--doubt it all!--to start from the ground up from first principles. This drove Descartes inward and as he contemplated this own mind he stumbled upon his first incontrovertible and undeniable truth: Cogito ergo sum ("I think, therefore I am").

Without going too much into detail, there is a general consensus that many of the problematic features within modernity started with Descartes' turn inward. Some of these problems have to do with modern notions of the self, the severe introversion of the modern psyche, what Charles Taylor has called the punctual or buffered self. This notion of the introverted and isolated self sits behind the modern fetishization of The Individual and cult of self (e.g., self-improvement).

Descartes inward turn also began some problematic trends in epistemology. For our purposes we only need to note how Descartes arrived at truth by turning inward.

Justification Theory sits very comfortably with these modern notions. Justification Theory supports the modern view of the autonomous ego. The journey to faith is undertaken by individuals. Further, it is undertaken by individuals turning inward. Faith, like Descartes cogito ergo sum, is an epistemological truth discovered in the privacy of your own heart.

Modern Politics
One of the most interesting parts of The Deliverance of God is when Campbell shows the close connections between Justification Theory and the foundational ideas behind the establishment of the modern liberal democracy. A great deal of the credit for laying the philosophical foundation for liberalism was John Locke, whose ideas fueled both the American and French Revolutions. Interestingly, as Campbell shows, Justification Theory is deeply Lockean in both form and function.

The basic form of Locke's vision of government is that of free individuals who are able to enter into agreements and contracts with other free individuals. Further, these free individuals may choose to form a government to assist in the management of the larger social contract. Importantly, the legitimacy of the government is given by the general consent of the people. Working behind all this is the notion of certain natural or God-given "rights."

According to Campbell, Justification Theory fits this political vision "like a glove." Mainly because Justification Theory is focused on individuals entering into a new contractual relationship with God. And, similar to the way the people give their consent to the government, God's rule over the believer is, essentially, one of consent/agreement, what we call "faith." In all of this, the actions of the believer (the consenting individual at the core of liberal democracies) are the focus. In this, Justification Theory is anthropocentric (human-centered) rather than Christocentric (Christ-centered).

Further, in liberal democracies, where faith is a matter of "belief," faith becomes privatized and separated from political realities. Faith, in liberal democracies, has no political implications at all. Faith is just your religious preference. Religion is a private thing you do between you and God. Keep it out of the public sphere.

Scandalously, Justification Theory, due to it's inward, individualized and epistemological nature, goes right along with this separation of faith from politics. This is deeply problematic because Justification Theory is promoting the modern view of faith--individual and private--that is one of the biggest problems in Christianity today, the notion that faith is a private transaction between you and God that has nothing to do with issues such as justice, peace or environmental stewardship.

Economics
The final way Justification Theory supports modernity is in how it embraces the centrality of the marketplace. It is difficult to separate capitalism from liberal democracy. The two go hand in hand. Consequently, the values of the marketplace have seeped into just about every facet of modern living and identity. Somewhat shockingly, by making marketplace exchange the mechanism of salvation (i.e., Jesus pays for sin), Justification Theory has made the modern market the foundation of the salvation event.

To conclude, the reason Campbell finds all this problematic, and I strongly agree with him, is that Justification Theory is crippled when it comes to critiquing the sins, errors or overindulgences of modernity. Why? Because Justification Theory, at just about every turn, supports the modern project. Justification Theory can't get ethical leverage on modernity because, well, Justification Theory is in bed with modernity. It's an unholy alliance.


Next post we move into Part 3 of the book.

I'd like to elaborate upon something I noted in my last post about the place of introverts in the church. Specifically, I said that introverts were very relational, but not very sociable.

What, exactly, did I mean?

A few things. First, introverts love people and crave relationships. They just don't like socializing with strangers. In this, introverts might (and often do) have deeper and more intimate relationships than an extrovert. Introverts don't collect friends. But they do work really hard on the ones they have. Our time, relationally speaking, is limited. We can spread ourselves thinly across many relationships in the Facebookification of friendship. Or we can spend a lot of time on very few people. Introverts tend to do the latter.

The problem with sociable churches is they they tend to think "deep relationship" can be microwaved in fast, intense "sharing" experiences during church or bible class. But deep relationships tend to need crock pots. And introverts make excellent crock pots.

In short, the relationships at church should be built upon friendships. And these take time. You can't microwave friendships into existence with artificial "sharing" experiences in church. You shouldn't tell people to turn to their neighbor and ask, "How is your spiritual life doing?" These interventions are well-intentioned, but they are the fast-food equivalent of true friendship. The key to Kingdom relationships is crock pot friendship, not socializing or microwaved intimacy.

(My thoughts about friendship were triggered by this wonderful post by Brad East.)

I wanted to make you aware of a new book out entitled Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture by Adam McHugh. You can also follow Adam at his blog Introverted Church.

I was very interested in seeing the book in print because Adam had let me know that he cited a post of mine concerning introversion in the church. That post is reposted below. In the coming weeks I hope post a review of Adam's book.


Introverts in the Imago Dei? (reposted from 6.19.2007)
In Lectures 6-7 of The Varieties of Religious Experience William James moves from his discussion of the healthy-minded believer to speak of the sick soul. Again, the sick souls are those who tend to be the more pessimistic believers among us, those of us preoccupied with the problems of existence. In my own research, I've labeled this type the Winter Christian and the Existential Believer, so I won't write more about them in this post.

What I do want to write about starts with James' sick soul type but goes in a different direction. Specifically, I want to write about the place of introverts at church.

Most people are aware of Jung's typology of Introverts and Extroverts. What you may not be aware of is that trait affectivity is highly correlated with these types. Specifically, positive affectivity is significantly associated with extraversion and negative affectivity is associated with introversion. That is, extraverts tend to be energetic and enthusiastic while introverts tend to be mellower or even melancholic.

The point here is that James' sick soul type is very often going to be an introvert and the healthy-minded type is very often going to be an extrovert. It is this connection that I want to discuss.

Here's the question I want to ask you: Do introverts fit in at church?

The answer, obviously, is that it depends upon what kind of church we are talking about. In liturgical churches I expect introverts and extroverts fare about the same. But in non-liturgical churches they may fare differently.

Specifically, non-liturgical churches tend to be more sociable churches. So, let's call them that. That is, there are liturgical churches and there are sociable churches. Sociable churches tend to emphasize relationality among its members. For example, a large part of the sociable church experience involves lengthy greetings (being greeted and greeting others), adult bible classes that are conversational and oriented around fellowship (e.g., in my church we sit at tables drinking coffee, eating donuts, and chatting), and the in-depth sharing of personal prayer requests.

This is not to say that liturgical churches aren't sociable or don't have sociable facets to them. It's just the simple recognition that going to a Catholic mass (the prototypical liturgical experience) differs greatly from my day at church at the Highland Church of Christ in Abilene, TX. My experience is heavy on the “visiting,” as they say here in Texas.

In these highly sociable churches there is an implicit theological theme that marries sociability with spirituality. That is, being sociable—visiting intensively, and being willing to "get into each other's lives"—is highly prized. To a point, this is understandable. A sociable church is going to rely on extraverts to make the whole vibe work.

But introverts fare poorly in these sociable churches. The demand to visit, mix, and share with strangers taxes them. Worse, given that these social activities are declared to be "spiritual," the introvert feels morally judged and spiritually marginalized. As if their very personality was spiritually diseased.

Consequently, the "issue of the introvert" is one of the big overlooked problems in these sociable churches. For example, church leaders often want to make church more "meaningful." What they mean by this is that they want to create an atmosphere were deep human contact can be made. This is a fine goal, a worthy goal. However, to pull this off in an ordinary church setting demands a degree of sociability that introverts just don't have. Take a typical church service, communion service, small group service, or bible class. Let's say, to make it more “meaningful,” you ask the participants to find someone sitting close to them to have a spiritually-oriented exchange/conversation with. A time of sharing. Well, the introverts are just going to HATE this activity. They may hate it so much that they just might stop coming to your services. In fact, I know introverts at my church who purposely come in late to avoid the perfunctory meet-and-greet that occurs right at the start of our services ("Find someone close to you and say hello!").

Now, you may say that these introverts just aren't good people. But you would be wrong. Introverts are very, very relational. They just aren’t sociable. And to confuse the two is a grave theological and ecclesial mistake.

But many churches fail to make this distinction. They tacitly set up the following equation for church life:

Spirituality = Sociability

For example, I was once visiting with a church leader at my church who was making a recommendation that, to make our adult classes more "meaningful," we would need to share more of our lives in these classes. I stated that such a recommendation would drive the introverts crazy. The response was, "God is about relationships and church is about relationships. Thus, if these people aren't going to be involved in relationships they will just have to change."

The problems with this formulation are obvious:

1. From a psychological perspective, introverts don't change into extraverts (or visa versa). To expect this is ridiculous.

2. From a moral perspective, you are moralizing aspects of personality: Extravert = Good and Introvert = Bad.

3. From a pastoral perspective, you are confusing relationality with sociability. That is, your pastoral intervention, although well-intentioned, demands a kind of personality to work well. It is true that deeper relationships are needed at church, but the route isn't always best achieved by throwing strangers together into forced conversation.

4. From a theological perspective, you are insinuating that introverts are not created in the Imago Dei, in the Image of God. (In fact, the etymology of the word "enthusiasm," that trait of the extravert, means "filled with or by God." The association, then, is that introverts are NOT filled with or by God.)

This last is the most worrisome. For years, sociable churches have ignored the introverts in their midst. Worse, they have sent a consistent message that they were less spiritual than their extraverted brothers and sisters. That to be like God was to be extraverted.

In my opinion, the damage this subtle message has caused has been enormous.

The big religious news yesterday was that a new book out about Pope John Paul II claims that the pope engaged in self-flagellation. According to the Reuters article:

"In his closet, among his vestments, there was hung on a clothes hanger a particular kind of belt for pants, which he used as a whip," Oder writes.

When he was bishop in Poland, he often slept on the bare floor so he could practice self-denial and asceticism, Oder writes.

Many saints of the Church, including St. Francis of Assisi, St Catherine of Siena and St. Ignatius of Loyola, practiced flagellation and asceticism as part of their spiritual life.

For some historical context Christopher Beam has an article over at Slate about mortification in the Catholic Church.

In my class at church--entitled Faith at the Edge: A Conversation For Doubters--I began by stating my goals for the class. These were:

1. Explain why doubt is and will remain a fixture of the faith experience for many if not the majority of Christians.
2. To normalize doubt. To show that doubt isn't an illness nor is it dysfunctional.
3. To help doubters live with doubt. We can't (nor would I want to, see #5) eliminate doubt. But many people need some assistance reconfiguring their faith experience in the face of chronic doubt. What does faith look like when you doubt?
   
4. To help doubters and non-doubters live in community with each other. Too often these groups tend to misunderstand and stigmatize each other.
5. To show how doubt is a great gift for the church.
   

After describing these goals I went on to tackle #1 on the list, to explain why doubt is and will remain a fixture in faith communities. Doubt is widespread and it isn't going away. Church leaders are just going to have to figure out how to minister to lots of doubters within the church.

Why this is so is largely due to our historical location. Modernity has changed the way we experience belief. We live in the age of reason, empiricism, skepticism and science. The world has become disenchanted. The are no more witches or goblins, we live with molecules and entropy. As Bonhoeffer phrased it in his letters from prison, the world has "come of age." We don't need any more fairy tales.

That is, certainly, one way to tell the story. It is a version of what Peter Berger and Anton Zinderveld call in their book In Praise of Doubt the "secularization theory." The basic claim of secularization theory is that as modernity advances people give up religious belief and become "secular." I think this is what Bonhoeffer thought he was seeing, that modern people didn't "need" faith any longer. So they discard it. Modernity destroys faith.

But Berger and Zinderveld note that, empirically speaking, secularization theory has been falsified. Modernity hasn't run faith out of the building. If anything, faith is experiencing a renaissance in modernity.

What has happened in modernity, argue Berger and Zinderveld, is not secularization but plurality. What we see around us isn't a binary choice between faith and unfaith. Rather, it's choices amongst faiths, unbelief amongst them. What characterizes modernity is the radical range of choices now in front of us. I can choose to be a Christian. Or a Buddhist. Or a Muslim. Or a Humanist. Or an atheist. And I can change my mind. Faith hasn't been eliminated. Rather, faith has become radically open. The options available to us are dizzying. We live in the wake of what Charles Taylor calls "the Nova Effect," this explosive expansion of choices, worldviews and lifestyles.

Berger and Zinderveld explain how this happened in the following way. According to secularization theory the shift that was predicted to occur was this:

faith to unfaith

But what really has happened in modernity was this:

the-world-taken-for-granted to choice

To understand this shift we need to grasp some sociological terminology. Sociologists distinguish between the background and the foreground of human culture and cognition. The aspects of life that are assumed, instinctive, unconscious and taken for granted function in the background of life. Rarely do I reflect upon or evaluate the background structures of my life. In contrast to the background, the foreground of life is the location of choice, reflection, and decision making.

Consider the following example given by Berger and Zinderveld to illustrate the point. When I wake up in the morning I have to decide what I want to wear. These considerations are in the foreground of my life. I reflect and make choices about what clothes to put on. However, I never really question the assumption that I will be wearing something! That is assumed. It functions in the background.

The point is, a great of life is regulated to the background. There my worldview hums away, largely unnoticed. And this makes good adaptive sense. As Berger and Zinderveld note, if 100% of life was up for grabs, in the foreground, we would be cognitively and socially crippled. Everything would be a matter of conscious reflection and deliberate choice. I'd have to wake up and devote time to the question, "Should I put on clothes today? Or go to work naked?" Some things just have to be assumed.

With these understandings in place we can now see how modernity has affected us. Modernity has increased the foreground relative to the background. That is, things that used to be assumed and taken for granted have now moved into the foreground and have become objects of choice and reflection. Think about the choices you face that your forebears a 1,000 years ago didn't even consider:

What should my career be?
Should I change the job I'm in?
Should I get married? When? Should I get divorced?
Where should I live?
How many kids do I want to have?
What church should I go to?
Should I be Protestant or Catholic?

In the not so distant past all these things were taken for granted, they were in the background. People a 1,000 years ago didn't worry about what their college major should be or if they should change careers. Their "life work" was largely determined: farm or herd. People 1,000 years ago didn't worry about if or when they would marry. This was taken for granted. Nor could they use birth control to determine how many kids they would have. And, importantly for our purposes, people 1,000 years ago didn't think about what religion they would adopt. This was taken for granted.

In short, modernity didn't undermine the contents of religious belief. What modernity did was change the location of belief in the mind. Specifically, faith moved from the background to the foreground. From taken-for-granted to an object of choice.

And what this means is not that modernity has made faith unreasonable. But it does mean that faith is more fragile and unstable. As are all things in the foreground. The fact that faith is a choice means that faith can be revisited and the reasons behind that choice opened up to scrutiny. Further, we are constantly in contact with people making their own faith choices and can't help but be affected by their reasons. No longer taken for granted, faith is always exposed to reflection and revisitation. When faith is a choice it needs to be reasserted, like all our other choices. It's like waking up every morning and deciding what to wear. The choice is an everyday object in the mind. Thus, we need to keep choosing faith, over and over. And, like all things in the foreground, this take a lot of time and effort. Faith is now hard work. And some people, not surprisingly, just get tired.

In short, faith is going to feel different in modernity. It's going to feel vulnerable and fragile. It's going to be effortful. All this is simply saying that faith has moved from the background to the foreground.

This week I give my lecture on sleep for the the 200 students in my PSYC 120 Introduction to Psychology class. I've taught this class for years and I'm still surprised at how the lecture on sleep is the most popular lecture I give judged by the sheer number of hands going up and questions I get from the students.

In light of this coming lecture my eye was caught by a post on the Daily Dish about the blog Sleep Talkin' Man. The blog is written by the wife of an man who, apparently, says the most interesting and hilarious things in his sleep. Adam's wife listens, records and then posts these utterances on the Sleep Talkin' Man blog. Beware, Adam has quite the dreamlife so the blog isn't for kids. As Adam's wife tells us:

Some of the content on this page is not suitable for young eyes. Parents, shield your children! The views expressed by Sleep Talkin' Man rarely reflect the attitudes/opinions of waking Adam. Especially the desire to exterminate all vegetarians. But he does hate lentils.

Here are some of my favorite utterances from Sleep Talkin' Man:

"Oompa loompas don't sing in heaven. They tidy up the clouds."

"I'm here! I know, I brighten the room. Everything's better."

"My badger's gonna unleash hell on your a**. Badgertastic!"

"I want to be a cowboy. I don't want to be a panda."

"Monkey power! Straight from the jungle."

I've already used "Badgertastic!" a couple of times today.

Diagnostic Criteria:
Doubt is diagnosed when one or more of the following symptoms have been present during the same 2-week period and represent a change from previous religious experience; at least one of the symptoms is either (1) skepticism about the existence of God or (2) emotional distress associated with the "loss of God."

(1) Skepticism about the existence of God. The doubt is expressed intellectually as an ontological concern.

(2) Emotional distress associated with the "loss of God." The doubt experience is predominately emotional, a distress associated with the experience of Divine "absence."

(3) Apathy toward the faith (its beliefs and practices) often characterized by an experience of indifference or "deadness."

(4) A skeptical stance regarding the central claims of the faith. Doubts about the truthfulness of Scripture, founding events (generally those associated with the "miraculous" ), or metaphysical claims.

(5) Loss of an evangelistic zeal often replaced by a curiosity or acceptance of outgroup members.

(6) Feelings of distance and separateness during worship or rituals, a sense of "observing" the proceedings.

(7) Expressions of lament, frequently similar to grief or bereavement responses.

(8) A reappraisal of God's defining characteristics (e.g., benevolence, omnipotence). For example, God's benevolence might be replaced by judgments that God is indifferent or malevolent.

Given the diversity of clinical presentations, a diagnosis of Doubt is given one of the following Type specifiers:

Type Specifiers:

• Intellectual Type: Cognitive and intellectual features are predominant, often in the form of intellectual objections or skepticism
• Emotional Type: Emotional distress is predominant, similar to a grief response
• Apathetic Type: Features of indifference are predominant, a loss of zeal or interest in religious belief and/or practice
• Undifferentiated Type: A mixed presentation, where no one feature is predominant

A diagnosis of Doubt is also given an Onset/Course specifier:

Onset/Course Specifiers:

• Episodic (Single Episode/Reoccurring): Doubt manifests as a discrete temporal episode, often with alternating periods of "remission." Additional specifiers for a diagnosis of Episodic Doubt are Single Episode or Reoccurring. Single Episode Doubt is diagnosed when there have been no other discernible episodes of Doubt in the past. Reoccurring Doubt is diagnosed if the individual has met diagnostic criteria for Doubt in the past.
• Chronic: Chronic doubt has no discrete temporal onset and periods of "remission," if they occur at all, are short lived. Chronic doubt emerges slowly and can persist for years, often throughout the lifespan.

Examples of various Doubt diagnoses illustrating the use of the Type and Onset/Course specifiers are as follows:

• Doubt-Intellectual Type-Chronic
• Doubt-Emotional Type-Episodic, Single Episode
• Doubt-Undifferentiated Type-Episodic, Recurring
• Doubt-Apathetic Type-Chronic

Supplemental Information:

Prevalence and Occurrence Data:
Epidemiological research suggests that 30% to 50% of persons in religious populations have met diagnostic criteria for Doubt at least once in their lifetime. Some research has found incidence rates has high as 90% in certain populations.

Causes and Risk Factors:
Doubt has a variety of known causes. Some research has indicated that doubt may be influenced by personality suggesting that doubt may have heritable components. Traumatic life events are frequently implicated in the onset of doubt, particularly Episodic Doubt. Chronic doubt has also been linked to advanced education or intellectual exposure to ideas, information, or ways of knowing that create epistemological pressures upon religious belief.

Developmental Issues:
Doubt can occur at any time during the lifespan. Generally, the first episodes of Doubt occur in late adolescence and early adulthood. However, there are many documented cases of late onset doubt.

Demographic Correlates:
There are no known demographic risk factors associated with Doubt. Doubt is equally prevalent across gender, ethnic groups, and socioeconomic groups.

Treatment:
There are no known treatments for Doubt. Consequently, most treatments for doubt are palliative rather than curative.

I'm currently teaching a class at church called Faith at the Edge: A Conversation for Doubters. In the class I've made a distinction between Cold Doubt and Hot Doubt. Cold Doubt is the doubt of the studious, the intellectual and the questioning. Hot Doubt is the doubt of the wounded, the god-forsaken and the suffering.

This distinction is not exact. For example, a great deal of Cold Doubt is simply vicarious Hot Doubt. We look at Haiti, Darfur or the Holocaust and, vicariously, experience the god-forsakenness of the world. But the distinction does highlight some differences among doubters. Some doubt for intellectual reasons. Others doubt in the wake of loss, trauma or pain.

I finished reading Part 2 of The Deliverance of God and I'd like to use two posts to summarize the points I think are important and/or interesting in this section of the book.

Before turning to the Pauline texts in Part 3 Campbell asks us to step back in Part 2 to examine our hermeneutical situation. Campbell is keen to do this because if we jump too quickly into a reading Paul we'll just read into Paul all of our preconceptions and assumptions. That is, we'll find in Paul exactly what we expect to find.

A large portion of Part 2 is devoted to understanding how Justification Theory fits into church history. Further, Campbell also discusses how Justification Theory is deeply implicated in the modern project (e.g., liberalism, democracy, capitalism). The links between Justification Theory and modernity are particularly important to note because, as Campbell observes, modern readers, steeped in the values and assumptions of modernity, might be unable to criticize Justification Theory properly. Like a fish that doesn't know it lives in water, modern readers might not be able to objectively criticize Justification Theory as being a tool of modernity. Being "in" the water of modernity we can't see its influence upon us or our theology, Justification Theory in particular.

In sum, Campbell wants us to trace the history of Justification Theory in the life of the church and how the theory partnered with various developments during the Enlightenment and beyond. According to Campbell, this analysis will help place some distance between us and Justification Theory, helping us to resist the temptation to read Jusification Theory into the Pauline texts.

In this post I'll try to summarize how Campbell places Justification Theory within the context of church history. In the next post I'll summarize how Justification Theory is implicated in modernity.

As noted in the earlier posts, Justification Theory is often called the "Lutheran Reading" of Paul. Most certainly, Luther was the first to articulate Justification Theory as we know it today. This formulation was later elaborated by other Reformers, John Calvin in particular.

Given this history we can make a couple of observations. First, the arguments about Justification Theory are largely "in house" Protestant debates. Catholics and the Orthodox don't have a lot of dogs in this hunt. Second, given the importance of these issues for Protestants appeals to Luther or Calvin carry a lot of weight in these debates. That is, a reading of Paul might be deemed more correct because Luther read Paul a certian way. In short, appeals to Luther or Calvin can function as appeals to authority in the justification debates. As Campbell observes, these are illegitimate arguments. At the end of the day, Luther might have been wrong. The proper reading of Paul should be judged on exegetical, not church-historical, grounds.

We could just leave it at that, but Luther and Calvin are towering figures. It is hard for Protestants to discount or dismiss their interpretations. So Campbell goes a bit further, suggesting that while both Luther and Calvin endorse Justification Theory at many points in their writing they also articulate positions that sit in conflict with Justification Theory. Campbell's claim is that Luther and Calvin were complex and that their thought cannot be easily or consistently read as supportive of Justification Theory. In many places Luther and Calvin seem to support the apocalyptic reading we considered in an earlier post.

Let me focus on the prime example of this tension within Luther and Calvin. Although Luther and Calvin each espoused Justification Theory they both, in many places, articulated a very pessimistic view of human agency. So much so, as witnessed in Luther's exchange with Erasmus, that Luther would deny that humans could do anything that might prove helpful in saving themselves from damnation. This includes faith itself, the necessary saving criterion. We tend to call this anthropological stance, in Calvin at least, the doctrine of "total depravity." And in light of total depravity how are humans to exercise faith? Both Luther and Calvin appeal to the action and grace of God. Faith itself becomes a gift. Calvin formalized this notion as the doctrine of election.

The point that Campbell makes is that the doctrine of election sits in tension with Justification Theory. Recall, for Justification Theory to work the human person must complete a tortured inward journey culminating in the realization that he stands condemned before God. But if the doctrine of election is operative this introspective and epistemological journey seems to be a bit irrelevant. Further, given the condition of total depravity how could humans even begin or complete the journey?

And here's the deal. Most of us are well aware of these problems. Justification Theory is, at root, a rhetorical device for evangelism. Through bible study or preaching you lead the listener through the critical realizations:

1. I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. And this includes you! "All" means all.
2. The wages of sin is death.
3. In light of the aforementioned realizations, you're screwed.
4. But you can have grace if you accept, through faith, Jesus as your Savior.

But if faith is a matter of election it seems that evangelism is problematized. Evangelism presupposes a clear head and a clear heart. It presupposes the ability to volitionally respond. But if faith is a matter of election is any of this necessary? And if total depravity is in play is any of this even possible? Depravity and election throw a monkey wrench into the machinery of Justification Theory, rendering most of the theory irrelevant.

These are very old debates. Witness the tensions between the Calvinistic and Arminian attempts to resolve these questions. The point is, Luther and Calvin were no simple and consistent advocates of Justification Theory. Important aspects of their theology (e.g., their anthropology, the role of God in granting faith) greatly complicated their espousal of Justification Theory, so much so that the children of the Reformation are still debating the issues. The tension between evangelism and election is still very much with us. Consequently, it would be silly to assume that Justification Theory has been handed to us by Luther and Calvin as anything other than a partial and incomplete soteriology.

And, interestingly, Luther and Calvin got their notions about election from passages such as Romans 5-8 and 9-11 where we find the apocalyptic soteriology within Paul. And isn't it curious that the conflict within Luther and Calvin's thought emerges from the same conflict we observed earlier, the tensions between Romans 1-4 and the rest of the book? In short, although both Luther and Calvin read Romans 1-4 as supportive of Justification Theory, other aspects of their soteriology (informed by texts such as Romans 5-8 and Romans 9-11) create tensions with that reading that remain unresolved to this day.

So the sum of the matter is this. Any appeal to Luther and Calvin doesn't resolve anything in the justification debates. Not only would this be an illegitimate appeal to authority it is, more importantly, simply a restatement of the problem we noted earlier: The conflict between Romans 1-4 and the rest of the book.

In the last two posts I reviewed some of the intrinsic (theoretical) and systematic (textual) problems with Justification Theory discussed by Douglas Campbell in his book The Deliverance of God. In this post we will examine the empirical difficulties of Justification Theory wrapping up my summary of Part 1 of The Deliverance of God.

As a biblical and theological theory Justification Theory is not, generally speaking, a theory that can be falsified with historical or empirical data. For the most part, Justification Theory will stand or fall depending upon how well it explains the soteriology of Paul given what he wrote in his letters. However, Campbell notes two locations where Justification Theory makes contact with empirical reality making claims that can be assessed sociologically and historically. That is, there is some hard(er) data we might consider in assessing the viability of Justification Theory.

Empirical Claim #1: The Experience of Second Temple Judaism
As noted in earlier posts, Justification Theory--salvation by grace through faith--is seen as the solution to a problem that was inherent in Judaism. Specifically, Judaism is characterized by a "works-based righteousness." More, the Jews were legalists, struggling under a perfectionistic criterion. 100% Torah obedience was the mark of righteousness. This, according to Justification Theory, was a dead end, a trap, a moral impossibility. Given this situation, the gift of grace was a way out of the perfectionistic trap of legalism.

This characterization of the Jews made by Justification Theory is, at root, an empirical claim. It is a description of the theology and experience of Second Temple Judaism. So, it seems reasonable to ask, is this description accurate? Were the Jews struggling under a legalistic and perfectionistic system?

The short answer is no, they were not. The historical picture, filling in more every year, of Second Temple Judaism presents a picture at odds with the characterizations made by Justification Theory. A lot of this work has suggested that the Jews were not working with a legalistic model but were, rather, working within a covenantial model. More importantly for Campbell is what we have learned about the emotional experience of life in Second Temple Judaism. According to Justification Theory the Jews would have been in either one of two emotional states. First, an emotional despair at failing to live up to the perfectionistic criterion. Or, second, a (delusional) pride for being "blameless" under the Law. But there is little in the historical record to suggest that this is how the Jews experienced life under the Law or Covenant. Life during Second Temple Judaism was all over the place, with pockets of very different emotional experiences and performance expectations. No doubt there were Jews with tortured consciences (the Second Temple Jewish equivalent of Martin Luther) and Jews who were prideful hypocrites. But most Jews, well, were kind of like us. Trying to do good but with a somewhat realistic stance about what humans might achieve, morally speaking. Further, when the Jews experienced moral failure the Temple had its rituals of sacrifice and absolution, providing the Jews a regular means to handle their sin and disobedience. Jews went to the temple like Catholics go to confession. There was no hypocritical pride, no legalistic expectation, no angst at being damned. The Jewish soteriological system, in short, was working just fine, thank you very much. Thus, why would the Jews need to be rescued by the message of grace?

In short, Justification Theory, to make sense, needs to specify the theology and experience of Second Temple Judaism (i.e., they were tortured or prideful legalists). But, as we have seen, this specification is false. It's a straw man. In this sense, Justification Theory is an "answer" or a "gift" to a non-existent "question" or "trap." And if the trap never existed in the first place it's hard to see why Justification Theory is needed at all.

Empirical Claim #2: The Experience of Conversion
As noted in earlier posts, Justification Theory suggests that conversion occurs in a very particular way. Essentially it is a tortured, private, introverted, epistemological journey. You reach certain realizations that make your situation clear ("I am a sinner and stand condemned, justly, before God."). Having reached this place you accept, through faith, the offer of grace.

As Campbell points out, this view of conversion is an empirical prediction. Justification Theory makes the claim that, generally speaking, conversation will look a certain way. So the question becomes, does conversion in the real world look like the conversion described by Justification Theory?

The answer, unsurprisingly, is no, it does not. Few Christians are ever converted in this manner. Campbell reviews the sociological literature that suggests that conversion is more relational than intellectual. Although people might report spiritual journeys that seem to follow the path of Justification Theory, in empirical fact the "response" to the gospel occurs over time as a person becomes more and more affiliated with a particular faith community. That is, there is less a moment of moral crisis than a gradual identification with and participation in the life of a faith community. Conversion happens when we become more and more dislocated with the people on the "outside" and more and more affiliated with the people on the "inside." The final shift might be sudden and emotional, but the movement began well ahead of the final altar call.

The point of all this is that Justification Theory has a hard time explaining the inherently communal and participatory nature of real-life conversions. Few conversions look like the tortured inward journey posited by Justification Theory.

But it should be noted that the apocalyptic soteriology described in the last post does fit very well with how actual conversions work: The soteriological notion of ethical and liturgical participation in the life of a new, inherently communal, Kingdom. In short, there are readings of Paul that make more theological, textual and empirical sense than Justification Theory.

For any interested, a podcast of my recent sermon at the Highland Church of Christ can be found here.

H/T to the Daily Dish for pointing to this website where you can listen to four sermons and one interview from American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr.

The quote above comes from the interview with James Baldwin about race relations in America in the aftermath of the 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama which killed four African American girls.

After working through the intrinsic (analytical/theoretical) problems in Justification Theory, The Deliverance of God turns to consider the systematic problems of Justification Theory. These are, as noted in the last post, problems Justification Theory has in explaining Paul in a coherent fashion. As Campbell points out, whenever we import Justification Theory into Paul we immediately create tensions and contradictions in relation to other things Paul has written. In short, Justification Theory tends to import contradictions into our understanding of Paul. Rather than resolving tensions and conflicts within Paul Justification Theory tends to do the opposite. This is problematic for any theory hoping to explain Paul in a cogent fashion.

To illustrate this Campbell examines the soteriologies in Romans 1-4 and Romans 5-8. Historically, Romans 1-4 has been read as the dominant text supporting the key features of Justification Theory. If this is taken for granted (i.e., we assume that Paul is preaching Justification Theory in Romans 1-4) scholars have long noted that this creates tensions with the soteriology presented later in Romans 5-8. That is, if we read Justification Theory into Romans 1-4 we create tensions with Romans 5-8. This is an example of what Campbell calls a systematic difficulty. Rather than giving us a seamless and consistent reading of Paul from Chapters 1-8 Justification Theory tends to cuts Paul's argument into two pieces that don't fit together very well.

To illustrate the disjoint let me point out a few of the tensions (discussed by Campbell) between Romans 1-4 and Romans 5-8 (again, if Romans 1-4 is assumed to be a proclamation of Justification Theory). First, and I'm following Campbell's lead here, we need to sketch the soteriology of Romans 5-8 to make the relevant comparisons with Justification Theory.

The soteriology in Romans 5-8 is a soteriology that is often called apocalyptic. This is in contrast to the contractual soteriology found, presumably, in Romans 1-4. That is, Justification Theory posits an inward and tortured epistemological journey culminating in the exercise of the saving criterion ("faith"). In contrast, the salvation in Romans 5-8 is characterized by God's unconditional act of deliverance and rescue. There is no introversion. No emphasis on epistemology. No contract we must accept. No saving criterion we must exercise to "receive" God's gift. Rather, God decisively breaks into history through the revelation (i.e., apocalypse) of Jesus Christ who rescues us from "Sin and Death," the ontological condition of being "in Adam."

With this minimal specification we can now make some contrasts between the apocalyptic soteriology in Romans 5-8 with the soteriology of Justification Theory:

Epistemology:
According to Justification Theory humans always have epistemological clarity. This is needed to make Phase 1 work. You need to realize that you are in a doomed situation. Further, we take this knowledge forward in time. We recognize our doomed situation and then move forward, prospectively, into Phase 2. Finally, the entire process is rationalistic. I move through the phases by coming to appreciate and believe in a set of propositions about myself, my situation, and about how to secure the gift of grace.

The soteriology in Romans 5-8 has none of these things. First, prior to salvation humans don't have epistemological clarity. In Adam we are deluded and blind. Hostile to God. Further, we make this realization only retrospectively. Finding ourselves delivered we look back and see the state we were in. Finally, salvation is neither introspective or epistemological. God pulls you out of Sin and Death. There is no sales pitch, no crisis of conscience. You simply discover yourself free from bondage. Like you've woken up from a long nightmare.

View of God:
The fundamental characteristic of God that drives Justification Theory is the attribute of retributive justice. Your first recognition of God is dominated by fear.

In Romans 5-8 God's character is wholly benevolent. Finding yourself rescued, your first recognition of God is an experience of love, joy and doxology.

Ethics:
Justification Theory has great difficulty connecting ethics to the experience of salvation. The crux of Justification Theory is to get the judgment of death shifted off one's head (through Jesus's substitution). More, recall that Justification Theory posits that the gift of grace emerges as the solution to "works-based righteousness." You can't save yourself by ethical practice so you must give up that attempt. Needless to say, this entire arrangement demotivates ethical living in Phase 2. Once saved there seems little left to motivate vigorous ethical living. Further, vigorous ethical living was the very thing you needed to be saved from!

Within Justification Theory this problem is usually addressed by contrasting justification with sanctification. Justification is that moment when you are declared "righteous." This happens when you exercise the saving criterion (i.e., accepting grace "through faith"). Sanctification, by contrast, is the ongoing process of Christian growth and maturity.

Campbell points out, however, that there are a number of problems with this solution. Specifically, Justification Theory only handles the consequences of sinful living (i.e., it removes hellfire from the equation). Consequently, it fails to specify the ethical code for Phase 2. Jews in Paul's day who converted and moved from Phase 1 to Phase 2 would be freed from salvation via Torah Obedience. However, once in Phase 2 what is to guide the journey of sanctification for this new, formerly Jewish, convert? Presumably they should continue to practice Torah obedience. There is nothing in Justification Theory to suggest that the rules of holy living changed from Phase 1 to Phase 2. Jews stand condemned in Phase 1 because of their fundamental moral incapacity. Not because the Law was invalid. If anything, the Law must remain in force in Phase 2 for God's judgment in Phase 1 to be just and right. Because if the problem was with the Law God should remove the Law, not condemn those struggling underneath it.

And, interestingly, this is exactly what we find in Romans 5-8. God rescues us from the Law (among other things). God's deliverance is, ethically speaking, a game changer. For both Jew and Gentile. No doubt, some of the older ethical practices will be carried forward. However, at root, a reset button has been pushed. A New Order has commenced.

All this is a problem for Justification Theory. Justification Theory needs the Law (God's moral expectations) in Phase 1 to be righteous and just. Only in this way can I be condemned as a moral failure. (Otherwise it's the Law that has the problem, not me.) But after salvation the Law should remain in full force. It is, after all, as we learned in Phase 1, the way God wants us to live. We just couldn't live up to its expectations. Grace thus saves us from the consequences of that failure but there is no reason to expect that the moral expectations (for the Jew at least) will be changing in Phase 2. And yet, no reading of Paul suggests that this is, in fact, how Paul viewed the Law in light of the apocalypse of Jesus Christ. A Paul writes in Romans 7.4-6

So, my brothers, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit to God. For when we were controlled by the sinful nature, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code.

Justification Theory, by focusing on the consequences of Law (hellfire) rather than the apocalyptic focus on ontology ("Who will rescue me from this body of death?"), has no real mechanism to explain the deliverance from the Law in Phase 2. Grace is simply about avoiding hellfire rather than the inauguration of a new ontology.

Campbell goes on to discuss many other systematic difficulties, most of which can be seen as points of contrast between a Justification Theory reading of Romans 1-4 and Romans 5-8. My goal in this post was to simply give a taste of Campbell’s argument, to show how, if we import Justification Theory into Paul, a host of tensions and contradictions quickly emerge. All of which should make us skeptical that Justification Theory is giving us the correct reading of passages like Romans 1-4.

"Was not Jesus an extremist for love?"
--MLK, Letter from a Birmingham Jail

I'd like to share one last reason about why I pray. This reason leans heavily upon the work of Arthur McGill and his books Suffering and Life and Death.

One of the reasons I pray is that it shapes the way I understand my identity. More specifically, it helps me reject what I'd call a Malthusian identity. McGill would call it an identity through possession or domination.

As a biologically contingent creature in a world of real or potential scarcity my existence crackles with survival anxiety (this is the "Malthusian" part). Due to this anxiety I attempt to possess, own or dominate some part of the world to secure the status, health, security and, when push comes to shove, the survival of myself and those I love. Obviously, when we are all doing this human existence becomes rivalrous, competitive, envious, selfish and violent. In short, the "identity of possession" is the source of sin in our lives. Here is a bit of McGill on this point:

What is the center, the real key, to sinful identity? It is the act of possession, the act of making oneself and the resources needed for oneself one's own. This act can be described with another term: domination. If I can hold onto myself as my own, as something I really possess and really control, then I am dominating myself. A sinful kind of identity surely requires aggression or appeasement; it requires defenses against others and against the threat of death as final dispossession. But fundamentally, a sinful kind of identity consists in the act of domination. I am because there is some section of reality which I own, which bears my name and I truly own it; it truly bears my name because I dominate it completely, because it is an instrument of my identity and my will...

Salvation for the Christian is to step out of this trap. If we can step out of the identity of possession we can adopt a non-fearful and non-aggressive stance toward the people around us. Further, and deeper, we can adopt a non-fearful stance toward death, the real threat of dispossession, the real engine of our Malthusian anxieties.

So how does this happen? McGill has us consider the identity of Jesus in the gospels:

In the New Testament portrayal of Jesus, nothing is more striking than the lack of interest in Jesus' own personality. His teachings and miracles, the response of the crowd and the hostility of the authorities, his dying and his resurrection--these are not read as windows in Jesus' own experience, feelings, insights, and growth. In other words, the center of Jesus' reality is not within Jesus himself. Everything that happens to him, everything that is done by him, including his death, is displaced to another context and is thereby reinterpreted. However, this portrayal is understood to be a true reflection of Jesus' own way of existing. He himself does not live out of himself. He lives, so to speak, from beyond himself. Jesus does not confront his followers as a center which reveals himself. He confronts them as always revealing what is beyond him. In that sense Jesus lives what I call an ecstatic identity.

In all the early testimony to Jesus, this particular characteristic is identified with the fact that Jesus knows that his reality comes from God...Jesus never has his own being; he is continually receiving it...He is only as one who keeps receiving himself from God.

The Christian identity is found by stepping into the ecstatic identity of Jesus. To not own or possess your identity, but to receive it. To approach life as open rather than closed, as grateful and peaceful rather than paranoid and anxious. Christians call this "freedom from sin" or "resurrection." McGill on this point:

[B]ecause I no longer live by virtue of the reality which I possess, which I hold, which I master and keep at my disposal, I am free to share myself and all my possession with others. Above all...I can be honest with others. I can be open before them. I do not have to draw a line to mark the boundaries of my reality where I place a sign which says "Keep Out." I do not have to conceal my being behind a wall in order to keep it mine and to prevent others from taking it from me. Since I never have myself, I can never be dispossessed of myself. In short, in all my relations with other people I am freed from the anxiety of having always to keep possession of my own reality in order to be.

Importantly, this received identity doesn't just reformulate how I approach others. It also reshapes how I approach my death. Never really owning my life I cannot "lose it" in the act of death. Rather, as Jesus did on the cross, we return the gift which was never ours in the first place. "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." In this, Death, the final enemy, is defeated.

So this is why I pray. Of all the things I do during the day prayer is that act which defines my identity. Prayer places me in the receptive state, of receiving my identity rather than owning it. And I come back to prayer over and over again to keep my hands open to receive the gift of my identity and to constantly pry back my fingers when I'm clutching the gift too tightly. Because the minute I "own" who I am and all I have my soul beings to curdle and my mind slowly poisons itself.

Thanks for all the comments, encouragement, and feedback about these posts on prayer. There are other reasons why I pray but the three I've discussed--Solidarity, Resistance, and Identity--are the most important for me.

[Note: Dr. Campbell was kind enough to comment on the last post. So, as this series moves forward everyone be on your best behavior. Let's not embarrass ourselves.]

As we noted in the last post, Douglas Campbell's contention in his book The Deliverance of God is that our understanding of Paul, his soteriology in particular, has been distorted by the prism of Justification Theory. In one sense, this a shocking claim as Justification Theory is the consensus view regarding salvation (at least in the West). But in another sense, Campbell's claim isn't news, particularly in scholarly circles, as there has been a growing disillusionment with Justification Theory. Many scholars have raised concerns about the Lutheran reading of Paul. However, these criticisms have been particular and piecemeal, a picking away at the edges. Thus, advocates and defenders of Justification Theory have been able to respond and, to some degree, fend off these localized objections. Due to this piecemeal approach Justification Theory has survived relatively unscathed. True, it might be admitted, the theory wasn't perfect. But its general thrust and foundation was solid and cogent.

In light of all this, what is significant about The Deliverance of God is its exhaustive and thorough dismantling of Justification Theory. It really is quite a beatdown. Although parts of Campbell's argument have been known for some time, no one had pulled it all together, marshaling all the damming evidence into one prolonged, devastating and withering critique. This, I suspect, is another reason why The Deliverance of God is on everyone's must read lists. Justification Theory has been thoroughly discredited.

There is no one reason that discredits Justification Theory. That is likely the reason for the theory’s long shelf life. What Campbell does is gather, point by point, all the problems and inconsistencies associated with Justification Theory into one big heap. And when Campbell is done with this work you look at that heap and say, "Justification Theory just can't be right." There are just too many cracks. Too many holes. Too many leaks.

I'm not going to survey every one of these holes, cracks and leaks. I'll simply give a taste, picking up the criticisms of Justification Theory that I think are easy to understand and grasp.

Campbell groups his criticisms of Justification Theory under three headings. These are:

1. Intrinsic Difficulties:
Theoretical, logical and analytic problems within Justification Theory. That is, the problems of Justification Theory as a theory. For example, a theory that contradicts itself is bad as a theory, irrespective of any ambitions it might have about explaining the world.

2. Systematic Difficulties:
Problems Justification Theory causes for our reading of Paul. Again, as a theory Justification Theory is trying to help us understand (i.e., organize and explain) Paul's thought. But if our theory makes Paul seem confused, incoherent, or inconsistent we should wonder if the theory is doing its job. A proper theory should make reading Paul simpler, not harder. It should turn the lights on, not throw us into darkness.

3. Empirical Difficulties:
Justification Theory is, generally speaking, theological in nature. However, there are places where Justification Theory requires empirical specifications. That is, for Justification Theory to work the world needs to be a certain way. So is the world that way? If not, then even if Justification Theory was self-consistent (which it's not, see #1 those Intrinsic Difficulties) it wouldn't correspond to the world we live in. Justification Theory might be a perfectly fine soteriology for, let's say, Martians, but it wouldn't speak to our realities.

For the rest of this post let me give some examples of the issues Campbell discusses as Intrinsic Difficulties for Justification Theory. In the posts that follow I’ll discuss the Systematic and Empirical difficulties.

Example 1: Natural Revelation and Epistemology
For Justification Theory to work Gentiles (during Paul's day) and non-Christians (in out time) must be able to examine the cosmos and, if they are honest, reach a few basic conclusions. Some of these conclusions are:

Theism

Monotheism

God's Retributive Justice

Divine Concern for Human Heterosexuality and Monogamy


Divine Concern for Ethical Perfection

Recall, for Justification Theory to work people must stand self-consciously guilty in Phase 1, the Pre-Christian phase. But if these propositions cannot be self-evidently squeezed from the cosmos then how could you claim that the people in Phase 1 were willfully disobedient and violating their consciences? In short, how could God judge people when there is no way for these people to reach any of these conclusions?

Immediately, Justification Theory seems incoherent. Is it self-evident when people examine the cosmos that God exists? That there is only one God? That this God demands moral perfection and will condemn you if you fail to achieve perfection? Is it clear that God finds homosexuality unacceptable? That monogamy is okay and polygamy is not? Is any of this obvious? Well, no, it's not. So how could God judge anyone on these particulars?

These realizations about God are only obvious after one has encountered the "Christian" message. And this brings up a related criticism made by Campbell. There is a disjoint between the epistemology of Phase 1 and of Phase 1. As we have just seen, Justification Theory posits a universal and transparent epistemology for Phase 1. Every person should be able to examine the universe and conclude that, for example, God exists, what this God expects of you, that you must be perfect, and that God won't forgive you aren't perfect. All that, to put is mildly, is a bit of a tall order. But even if we grant all this, the person in Phase 1 can't get to Phase 2--the Christian Phase--by examining the cosmos. People can conclude they are damned in Phase 1, but they aren't expected to figure out how Christ can save them. This very particular information isn't embedded in the cosmos. Rather, it is a historical and contingent revelation delivered by human messengers. Concretely, a missionary has to show up at your village.

This is a very odd situation. But we can see why Justification Theory needs it to be this way. The goal of Justification Theory is to have everyone, and I mean everyone, stand condemned in Phase 1. No one is "without excuse." Everyone is doomed and, importantly, they know it. And if they don't know this it is due to the fact that they are disobedient and wicked, willfully ignoring the transparent claims of the cosmos. This universal condemnation functions as a prerequisite, the stage setting for the delivery of the Christian message. The trouble is that the Christian message might never come. It needs to be delivered by human persons. For Justification Theory this makes sense. The Good News isn't philosophical or metaphysical. You can't save yourself by examining the cosmos and worshiping the God (or gods) revealed to human reason. You need to hear about Jesus. The trouble is that while our universal condemnation is open to reason our salvation is not. We all stand condemned but only some people have had the luck to hear the message of Grace. In short, there are two epistemologies in Justification Theory. One that is universal, transparent and a product of natural revelation. The other one is particular, historical and the product of human declaration. And, on sheer theoretical grounds, a theory positing such disjointed epistemologies seems deeply problematic, creating a host of philosophical problems.

Example 2: Theodicy and the Nature of God
For Justification Theory to work God has to send you to hell if you are not morally perfect. This immediately raises problems. Why does God require 100% moral perfection? In the last post we noted that a "good enough" criterion--51% rather than 100%--is unworkable in Justification Theory as it would allow people, through their own moral effort, to save themselves. Thus, it is critical that Justification Theory require 100% moral perfection. Why? Because no one can meet this threshold. Thus, everyone stands condemned. And that is what Justification Theory is trying to accomplish: Universal condemnation. The trouble is that, to accomplish this feat, Justification Theory has to make a claim about God that seems deeply problematic.

First, why would God create this flawed creature and then expect moral perfection? No reasonable person would expect perfection from a biological creature It's just not in the cards.

Second, why is God so harsh? Why isn't his nature more kind, generous and forgiving? Humans don't demand perfection from each other. We forgive. God, apparently, doesn't. And it's not clear why, in light of Justification Theory, God couldn't be this way. Why couldn't God be forgiving and nurturing in light of our transgressions? Not that God would be a pushover, but at least God would be nice and reasonable given that he's working with human beings, creatures that frequently make moral mistakes because, like any animal, we get scared or confused. The trouble for Justification Theory is that if God were like this--nice and reasonable--then the salvific machinery of Phase 2 is rendered moot. God doesn't require the blood sacrifice of Jesus because God is intrinsically forgiving.

Third, in all times and places there have been sweet, kind and decent people. They are not perfect, but they are the moral exemplars amongst us. Think of the sweetest and nicest person you’ve ever known. Perhaps it’s a friend, neighbor or grandparent. According to Justification Theory even these sweet and decent people will be sentenced to eternal hellfire. Further, Justification Theory claims that this outcome is both righteous and just. These people deserve this treatment. And as Campbell points out, this is hugely problematic as it violates every notion of justice and proportionality. As a theory that purports to show God's justice and goodness Justification Theory is just a total failure. Nothing in it shows God to be either just or righteous.

Campbell goes on to discuss other intrinsic difficulties within Justification Theory. Quickly, here are a few others:

1. Why, during Phase 1, did the Jews and Gentiles play by two different sets of rules?
2. How, exactly, is the death of Jesus a "payment" for sin? As a metaphor this might make sense, but when pressed the metaphor is incoherent.
3. Why is faith privileged the way it is in Justification Theory? And are the models of faith in the theory--Arminian (free will) and Calvinistic (election)--even coherent?

In sum, there are a host of intrinsic difficulties with Justification Theory. These are the problems that can be raised simply at the theoretical level, how well the theory makes sense on its own terms. And as we have seen, the whole structure of Justification Theory is a patchwork of problems and contradictions. A house of cards really.

In the next post we will move into the systematic difficulties of Justification Theory. That is, we’ll turn to the biblical text to see how Justification Theory performs in doing what it says it does: Explain Paul.

Check out this guest post by Robert Taber, a doctoral candidate in Carribbean History at the University of Florida, at the 538 blog. It offers some nuance and background to the conversation about Pat Robertson's claim that Haiti made a "pact with the devil." The opening paragraphs of Tabor's post:

Contrary to most people’s reactions to Pat Robertson’s remarks on Wednesday, his reference to Haiti’s “pact with the devil” did not appear out of thin air. As Matt Yglesias has pointed out this was a reference to the Bois Caiman ceremony at the beginning of the Haitian Revolution in 1791. This is not strictly a mangling of history on Robertson’s part. His comments come straight out of a blend of theology and history that, at the grassroots, pervades Haiti’s political discourse. Labeling the event at Bois Caiman a satanic pact touches on the most potent part of a vibrant oral tradition, a national myth that attempts to explain Haiti’s relationship with God and the world.

The French Revolution had been going on for two years when slave leaders gathered in the Caiman woods outside of what’s today Cap Haitien. The fighting between and within the white elite and the free mulatto population presented an excellent opportunity for general revolt. Most of the slaves present worked as overseers or coachmen for their respective masters, giving them freedom of movement and the right to carry swords. Dutty Boukman, a slave originally from Jamaica, and a priestess of disputed identity led a Voudou ceremony where they allegedly charged the gathered slaves “to throw away the image of the god of the whites who thirsts for our tears and listen to the voice of liberty that speaks in the hearts of all of us.” They then made an oath of secrecy and revenge, sealing it by drinking the blood of a sacrificed pig, a ceremony possibly West African in origin. This event bears a similar relationship to the Haitian Revolution as the Boston Tea Party does to the American Revolution—a critical event that helped galvanize the founding generation and forms a centerpoint for revolutionary legend today.

As Christians we are called to simplicity. Well, what if we took that approach with movies? In light of the successes of 3D motives like Avatar, the people over at Slate think about the rich future of 1D movies.

I think they might be onto something:

The second reason I pray has to do with issues of politics and allegiance. Some quotes I find helpful in this regard:

When the Romans archons (magistrates) ordered the early Christians to worship the imperial spirit or genius, they refused, kneeling instead and offering prayers on the emperor's behalf to God. This seemingly innocuous act was far more exasperating and revolutionary than outright rebellion would have been. Rebellion simply acknowledges the absoluteness and ultimacy of the emperor's power, and attempts to seize it. Prayer denies that ultimacy altogether by acknowledging a higher power...prayer challenged the very spirituality of the empire itself and called the empire's "angel," as it where, before the judgment seat of God.

--Walter Wink

Prayer is not "talking" with God, to God, or about God. It is not asking God for anything whatsoever. It is not bargaining with God. It has no similarity to conjuring, fantasizing, sentimental indulgence or superstitious practice...More specifically, prayer is not personal in the sense of a private transaction occurring in the void, disconnected with everyone and everything else, but is is so personal that it reveals (I have chosen this verb conscientiously) every connection with everyone and everything else in the creation throughout time. A person in the estate of prayer is identified in relation to alpha and omega--in relationship to the inception of everything and to the fulfillment of everything...Prayer, in quintessence, therefore, is a political action--an audacious one, at that--bridging the gap between immediate realities and ultimate hope, between ethics and eschatology, between the world as it is and the Kingdom that is vouchsafed.

...the practice of prayer is essentially political--a matter of attention to events and of intercession and advocacy for the needs of human life and of the life of the whole creation. Prayer, in this sense, is not pietistic but, on the contrary, radical involvement in the world...

--William Stringfellow

Consequently, whether people serve themselves or serve others is not in their power to choose. This is decided wholly in terms of the kind of world in which they think they live, in terms of the kind of power that they see ruling the roost. The issue lies at the level of the god they worship and not in the kind of person that they may want to be. In New Testament terms, they live or die according to the king that holds them and the kingdom to which they belong.

--Arthur McGill

You may be an ambassador to England or France,
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance,
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world,
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

--Bob Dylan

I can't say it much better than these quotes. Prayer is, simply, pledging allegiance. Consequently, prayer is political and a form of resistance and protest.

Prayer specifies your God, your kingdom, your hope, your ethic.

When you pray you choose sides.

Last semester I noticed a lot of discussion on the theology blogs about the publication of Douglas A. Campbell's book The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul. There appeared to be a lot of excitement surrounding the book, with many thinking that it was a "game changer" in Pauline studies. Some predicted it would be the theology book of the decade and many had it at the top of their lists for Best Theology Book in 2009.

So I was curious and got a copy.

The book is enormous at 1218 pages. I worried if I'd be able to finish the thing. (I'm impatient with big books.) But I've just finished Part 1 and look forward to moving forward.

As I move through the book I'm going to be posting some "Notes," interpretive summaries of the broad outline of Campbell's book. I say "interpretive" since I'm not a specialist and there is a good chance that I'll misunderstand Campbell at certain points. And, given that I'm summarizing a long and nuanced argument, there is the risk of over-simplification. So reader beware.

I'm going to be posting these notes for two audiences. First, myself. The book is so long that if I don't take the time to summarize what I've read I'll forget it all by the time I get to the end. So these notes are primarily for my own edification and memory record. However, my second audience is people like me, non-specialists who would like to hear about a book that is buzzing among the professionals. I figure there are a lot of people who would like to get a sense of what is going on at “the cutting edge.” This is my frail attempt to bring Campbell's book to the masses.

To begin...

All works of scholarship begin with a problem, some crisis, controversy or conundrum. Campbell's area of scholarship is Paul, his letters specifically. As you might imagine, Pauline scholarship is awash in controversy and debate. We won't go into those debates in depth. I barely understand many of them. But to give you a taste let me present three:

The Meaning of Pistis Christou
What we know for sure is that Pistis means "faith" in Greek and that "Christou" means "Christ." So far so good. But in the Greek there is some genitive ambiguity concerning how the two noun's--faith and Christ--are to relate to each other. Martin Luther, and those who followed him, translated Pistis Christou as "faith in Christ." But a growing number of scholars (e.g., Richard Hays, N.T. Wright) have argued that the proper translation of Pistis Christou should be "faith of Christ." Wow, so much hanging on the switch from "in" to "of"! But it really is a huge change. Specifically, the change moves us from an anthropocentric view of salvation to a Christocentric view. In the former, the human person is the locus of salvation. I, Richard Beck, must have faith in Jesus Christ. My act of faith functions as the key to unlock salvation. In the latter view, it is the faithfulness of Jesus that unlocks salvation. Christ's faithfulness saves me.

Paul's Soteriological Inconsistency
Pauline scholars have argued that Paul's soteriology, his view of salvation, is hopelessly muddled if not outright contradictory. To be sure, this might be unfair to both Paul and the canon. Paul might not be aiming for logical consistency. Plus, Paul might not have written everything we attribute to him. Regardless, it is worrying that Paul, the great theologian of the faith, might be confused or contradictory. For example, when scholars read Romans they see inconsistencies between the soteriology presented in Romans 1-4 and the soteriology presented in Romans 5-8. Of course, not everyone sees these inconsistencies, but as with the Pistis Christou debate, this is a location of scholarly controversy.

The Characterization of Second Temple Judaism and "Works of the Law"
When you hear the Jews described in church, and Paul’s life as a former Jew, they are described in a fairly stereotypical way: The Jews were trying to "earn" their salvation through "works of the Law" (Torah obedience). In short, the Jews were legalists. And this legalism was a source of great pride as many Jews felt that they were, indeed, "blameless" before God. Now, this characterization of the Jews has important soteriological functions. Namely, "Christian" salvation through grace is, at root, a rejection of legalism through works of the Law. Grace is the opposite of legalism. In short, the Christian notion of grace requires a backdrop of Jewish legalism for it to make sense, to be something “new and improved.” The trouble is, is this characterization of the Jews a straw man? Specifically, there is a great deal of biblical and extra-biblical evidence that suggests that legalism wasn't really a problem, for Jesus, Paul or the Jews. Now, legalism was a problem for Martin Luther, his monastic attempts to save his damnable soul. But scholars have argued that Luther's problem wasn't the Jew's Problem. Nor Paul's. Nor Jesus's. And, once again, there is debate about all this. It's another location of controversy in Pauline studies.

In sum, these are three examples of the debates within Pauline scholarship. There are many more and Campbell reviews them all. Exhaustively.

Now here is the breathtaking move Campbell makes. Campbell's basic argument is simple. Most, if not all, of these problems across the wide reaches of Pauline scholarship are the result of a single mistake. One simple but catastrophic mistake. Given this contention you can see the riches that await us. If this one mistake is corrected then Paul breaks free into the sunlight. All this nagging debate and argument about Paul falls away in a single stroke.

This, I think, is why there is such a buzz about this book. There are all these micro-level debates about Paul, little provincial struggles about this or that aspect of Paul. Which is, by the way, what scholars do. We specialize and focus on these little details. Expertise is finding a detail you just dominate. No one in the world knows as much about Romans 1.3 as you do. You did your entire dissertation on that single verse!

So Campbell's work is stunning (and long) because he tries to take in the entire sweep of Pauline scholarship. A macro-level approach that, he thinks, can fix the various micro-level problems. Of course, to make such a suggestion, you have to demonstrate to the micro-level specialists that you know what the hell they are talking about. You have to demonstrate competence and a grasp of the relevant issues. And this Campbell tries to do. Which is why the book is so long.

Of course, I have no idea if Campbell is successful in this. I'm no Pauline scholar. But everyone can grasp what his goal is: Fix the fundamental mistake that is causing all these problems.

So what is the fundamental mistake? The fundamental mistake was reading Paul through a particular theoretical lens. This lens is often called the Lutheran Reading of Paul. Campbell, not wanting to get bogged down in historical details as aspects of this reading pre-date Luther, prefers to call this reading, generically, Justification Theory.

According to Campbell, Justification Theory was the big mistake. When you read Paul through the lens of Justification Theory you get a wildly distorted Paul. And the debates within Pauline scholarship are created by this distorted Paul. This warped, funhouse mirror image of Paul. And if Justification Theory is wrong and alien to Paul then clarity might be achieved if we could read Paul through the spectacles he was wearing. To see Paul as he saw himself, not as we see him through the prism of Justification Theory. So Campbell's project is twofold. First, show us the flaws of Justification Theory with a particular focus on how Justification Theory is implicated in the debates within Pauline scholarship. And, second, show us an alternative reading of Paul, one that approximates, as best we can, how Paul understood his own theology.

So what is Justification Theory?

First off, as a theory, Justification Theory is a way of explaining Paul. More specifically, it is a way of organizing the Pauline data--textual data mainly, but also historical, theological, anthropological and sociological data--in a way that makes sense of it all. And, like all theories, if Justification Theory creates more problems than it solves we grow dissatisfied with the theory and begin to wonder if a better theory should replace it.

Most Christians already know the broad outlines of Justification Theory. It is the consensus view on salvation, what it is and how it happens. A part of what Campbell does is to specify the theory in great detail, proposition by proposition, so that any disagreements about the theory can be taken up and debated point by point. But we don't need to go into that amount of detail. I'll paint the theory in broader strokes. In fact, I'll summarize Campbell's description of Justification Theory with a picture (click on it for a larger view):

As described by Campbell, Justification Theory posits two phases and salvation is, essentially, the movement from one phase of existence to the second. The first phase is the pre-Christian condition. Movement to the second, Christian phase is essentially an epistemological journey triggered by two realizations. The first realization is that there is a just, holy and omnipotent God who is characterized by retributive justice. The second realization is that human beings, across the board, are unable to achieve moral perfection. These realizations are reached in one of two ways. For the Jew, these realizations come through attempts at Torah obedience. According to Justification Theory, the Jew should come to the realization that he cannot keep the Law perfectly. For the Gentile, having never come into contact with the Law, the Phase 1 realizations come from an innate moral law that is shared and universal, a "natural law" available to everyone. Everyone knows right from wrong and you also know that you can never be perfect.

The nadir of Phase 1 comes when the two key realizations come crashing down upon you. God is a God of justice. All of us have sinned (i.e., are not perfect). Consequently, God will judge us negatively. Despair comes when we realize that we cannot rescue ourselves. We cannot keep the law--Torah or Natural--perfectly. We are doomed.

Pausing for a moment, you might be wondering if I have presented a caricature of Justification Theory. For example, is it really reasonable to expect Gentiles to reach these conclusions having never heard of the Torah or the gospel? But Campbell is clear that Justification Theory must endorse this proposition. If it doesn't then someone, somewhere could comfortably live within Phase 1, indefinitely and without blame. They simply wouldn’t know any better. And couldn't know any better. In short, for Justification Theory to work it must get everyone into the same boat and you need some mechanism to do that, some way to indict people who never heard of the bible or Jesus. The alternative would be that people could get into Phase 2 without acknowledging Christ (i.e., God takes them into heaven because they didn’t know any better) or that God judges these people unfairly (because these people are, after all, clueless about the gospel story). Thus, for God to be righteous in his judgment everyone must stand before Him with a guilty conscience.

Here's another oddity. Why does God demand moral perfection? Why does it have to be 100% rather than 51%. The trouble with a "good enough" criterion (I’m 51% good) is that many (if not most) people can, realistically, achieve this goal. Such a situation is intolerable to Justification Theory. It would suggest that people could, by hitting the moral criterion of 51%, achieve salvation on their own, through their own good works. So the perfectionistic criterion has to stay, as unreasonable as it is, for Justification Theory to work.

In short, the parts of Justification Theory that seem odd or caricatured are, in fact, integral and vital to the theory. Weaken these aspects of the theory and it collapses.

Returning now to the theory, many readers will recognize the journey to despair in Phase 1 to be the very same pathway Martin Luther walked. During his early monastic days Luther became acutely aware of God's looming judgment and his own moral imperfections. And, try as he might, Luther could not work hard enough to save himself. He felt himself to be doomed.

At this point the offer of salvation enters the picture. At the point of despair God extends salvation to the believer. The believer accepts this offer by exhibiting the saving criterion: Faith. In the Calvinistic variant faith is given by God to the believer. In the Arminian variant faith is a free act of human volition. Either way, the believer must exhibit faith to trigger movement into Phase 2.

Phase 2 is the Christian Phase and it is characterized by two things. First, the judgment of God, previously directed at the human person, is satisfied by the death of Jesus. In this view, Jesus "substitutes" himself, takes the place of the believer, taking the full judgment of God upon himself. Second, the righteousness of Jesus, his blamelessness, is imputed or reckoned to the believer. In short, where Phase 1 is characterized by a moral despair--the failure to achieve moral perfection in the face of God's judgment--Phase 2 is characterized by grace, accepting through faith the atoning sacrifice of Jesus. God’s judgment is satisfied and the believer is “saved,” counted as righteous before the Judgment Seat of God.

Most of this is familiar territory. It is, as Campbell points out, the familiar "turn or burn" view of salvation. Stuck in Phase 1 you cannot save yourself. If you think you can get yourself out of Phase 1 on your own that is a manifestation of delusional damnable pride. Further, no one can avoid the indictment of Phase 1. Either the Torah or Natural Law condemns you. Failure to acknowledge this is also a mark of pride. Thus, if you choose to remain in Phase 1 God is both righteous and justified to judge you negatively. The only way out is to face up to your fundamental moral incapacity and to accept, through faith, the gift of grace.

Stepping back from Justification Theory we can now make a few broad observations. I'll only comment on a few of these, picking up the ones I think Campbell emphasizes.

First, the theory is introspective. It is the inward journey of a tortured conscious. People will see both Augustine and Luther in all this. Being introspective the model is individualistic and pietistic.

Second, the theory is driven by human self-interest. At the critical moment an appeal is made, "You cannot save yourself. Will you not accept this wonderful gift of grace?" Self-interest is the motive force that propels you from Phase 1 to Phase 2. Salvation is, basically, a sales pitch.

Third, the entire journey from Phase 1 to Phase 2 is epistemological. Movement occurs via the acceptance of a few critical propositions. About God. About your moral situation (i.e., you are a sinner in the hands of an angry God). About the offer of grace. Faith is entirely rationalistic.

Fourth, the model is contractual. An offer is made and a stipulated criterion is specified (faith) for the offer to be accepted. Salvation has a conditional if/then structure.

Finally, the model is prospective, it moves forward in time. You begin with the present and move toward the future where salvation awaits you.

As you might expect, these aspects of Justification Theory will prove to be problematic. Many have been widely discussed and debated (e.g., faith as overly rationalistic). Some of these issues were new to me.

And now with Justification Theory described we will be able to explore its inconsistencies and weaknesses. In the next post I'll begin my summary of the rest of Part 1 of The Deliverance of God discussing the various of the problems inherent in Justification Theory.