Truth in Weak Theology - part three - kingdom without kingdom

Third in a series about Jack Caputo's The Weakness of God, following on from Truth in Weak Theology - part one - Names and Events, and Truth in Weak Theology - part two - Aporia, today I'm posting about the pragmatic, rather than semanitc, translation of events; the kingdom (without kingdom) of God; and hyper-realism.

kingdom without kingdom

Conceiving the name of God as a weak force of a call holds implications for phenomenological scriptural hermeneutics, wherein ‘these texts are solicitations that call for a response, appeals coming from I know not where about a way to be, a style of existence, about a poetic possibility that we are invited to transform into existential actuality’ (117).

Scripture is not treated as representational of reality, but as ‘hermeneutically explicative or phenomenologically disclosive or revelatory about a mode of being in the world’ (188). There is thus a movement from text to call to response and actualizing activity. For Caputo, ‘[r]eligious discourses are not “verified” like propositions, by finding a fact of the matter out there with which the proposition makes a snug fit, but rather the event they harbor is “testified” to in experience, by being borne out or confirmed in our lives’ (118).

While names are endlessly translatable semantically, the event calls to be translated pragmatically. This translation is ‘radical, beyond any semantic transfer, beyond any aligning of meanings in different semantic fields, beyond being and knowledge, because it is a translation into witnessing, into action. The name of God must be translated into an event, and the event must be translated into a deed’ (272). Semantics should not block pragmatics, which is why Caputo is concerned to ‘save the name of God, not absolutize’ or literalize or ontologize it (40).

He reflects upon continental philosophy’s fondness for the French word ‘adieu,’ holding for Levinas the sense of being turned to God: ‘The à in à-Dieu represents a turn toward God, not a turn taken by the conscious freedom of an auto-turning autonomous self, but a being-already-turned to God, long before the conscious self steps in and takes on turn or another’ (264). Long before one turns to God though intentional actions and aspirations for God, ‘before I even know this name,’ one is ‘always already turned by God to God: à Dieu’ (264).

The name of God, which contains an uncontainable unconditional event, names a transformation (whatever name we give it) which turns the self to the other, because the name of God is an undeconstructible event of justice, forgiveness, hospitality, and love. This is where, Caputo argues, Levinas and Derrida converge:

‘Starting out from the opposite shores of theism and atheism, they join rails in the middle. Even as for Levinas, religion, me voice, au nom de Dieu [here I am, in the name of God], translates into ethics, me voici, tout court [here I am, just that], so for Derrida, for whom deconstruction is justice, messianic peace, and hospitality, deconstruction undergoes a parallel translation into an ethic-politics and therefore into the name of God, into a working equivalence with speaking in the name of God. Me voici, au nom de Dieu, and me voici, tout court – these translate into the same thing, into hospitality, which is not their “common meaning” but the event they share in common, whether or not one rightly passing for an atheist.’ (274)

The experience of the impossible, the event, which is ethics for Levinas and deconstruction for Derrida, turns from semantics to pragmatics, from names to events and our response to the event. ‘What matters with the event,’ Caputo writes, ‘is to take a step’ (298).

To recap, ‘It is not what we call God that is at issue, but what God calls. Then again, it is not what God calls that is at issue, but the response’ (97). For Caputo, the response, the action or deed, constitutes what he calls a ‘sacred anarchism’ (14), visible in the poetics of the kingdom of God. The kingdom which unfolds when the event harboured in God’s name rules (with sovereignty but without force, or, rather, with the sovereignty of a weak force, a call, a word, a sigh) is a ‘kingdom without kingdom,’ an anarchic kingdom, an (Alice in) Wonderland of a kingdom, which is a ‘holy disarray’ (14), a ‘kingdom of the kingdom-less’ (26). This anarchism, like deconstruction, is undertaken ‘in the name of something’ (140), in the name(s) which we ascribe to the event, the call, the ‘infinite task of making good on Elohim’s “good”’ (128) with acts of love, justice, gift, forgiveness and hospitality, if there are such things (s’il y en a).

This ‘making good’ is vital for one of the senses in which Caputo understands truth, which will be examined in a later post, but it also pertains to his understanding of ‘hyper-realism.’ Events, which are ‘not what is present but what is coming’ (6), avoid the realist/anti-realist debates which concern the level of being, the level of names (102).

‘I do not take the name of God to pick out an entity, as in realism, or an illusion, as in anti-realism, but an event, an advent, a future and a promise, a call and a claim, a hope and an aspiration, which is why I speak of a hyper-realism, which hopes in a being beyond or below being with a desire beyond desire and a hope against hope’ (124).

Reducing or magnifying the name of God to the level of events is to neither confirm nor contradict theological realism or theological anti-realism, but is to affirm a different reality altogether, the reality to come, the to-come (l’à-venir), whatever name it be given now or in the unforeseeable future. Hyper-reality is a reality promised beyond what is presently taken to be real’ (11). Hyper-realism ‘reaches beyond the real to the not-yet-real’ (11-12), so that it is a realism of the called-for to-come.

The translatability of names (mentioned in part one), the context of undecidability (part two), and the importance of pragmatics over semantics (here in part three) lead on to the discussion of a/theism, which I will post about in tomorrow's installment: Truth in Weak Theology - part four - A/theism.

Truth in Weak Theology - part two - Aporia

This is the second post in a series about Jack Caputo's The Weakness of God. It follows on from yesterday's post: Truth in Weak Theology - part one - Names and Events. Today we're looking at aporia, or undecidability; the impossible; and weakness. Here's where we left off yesterday:

Aporia

Faced with the radical ‘undecidability’ of life – of from whence the call comes, for example – it is this undecidability that constitutes the very condition of possibility for decisions to be made, for the non-cognitive leap of faith to be made.

‘[E]verything turns on keeping the gap between the name and the event open, on keeping the tension between them strong and alive, and thereby to be transported by that tension into the passion of life… It is when I truly do not know what I desire that desire is fired white-hot. It is when I truly do not know if there is anyone to pray to that I find myself praying like mad. It is when I truly do not know where I am going that I am really faced with making a move’ (298)

This radical uncertainty forms part of the ‘element of irreducible indeterminancy and instability built right into creation’ (64). Aporia is a condition of possibility for both re-formation and de-formation, for both promise and threat. ‘The event is subject to all the contingencies of time and tide, of chance and circumstance, of history and power – in short, to all the forces of the world that conspire to prevent the event, to contain its disruption, to hold in check its bottomless disseminative disturbance, to betray its promise’ (5). Good, good, yes, yes, ‘Good – now let’s hope it works’ (71).

The risk of creation – what Caputo says Levinas might call a ‘beautiful risk’ (64) – comes with the gift (promise and threat) of what Derrida calls an ‘absolute future to come’ (à venire) (175), an ‘unforeseeable surprise, a promise and a threat, but about which Jesus would tell us not to be afraid, not to be of little faith, but to trust in God’s rule’ (175). This is a future for which we cannot prepare, for which no horizon of expectation can ‘absorb the shock of the event’ (297).

A correlative (or a ‘least bad definition’ 103) of deconstruction, différance and the event is an experience of the impossible. The event contained in the name of God is the possibility of the impossible (87-88), which is not simply a logical contradiction (p and -p), which implies a horizon of logical expectations, but rather ‘something unforeseeable that shatters our horizons or expectation’ (103).

The possibility of this event, contained in the name of God as in many other names, isn’t an “anything-goes” eventuality, for this is not merely an experience of the impossible, but an experience by the impossible, external to (or beyond) the plane of being so that the experience is a desire beyond desire, ‘for the gift beyond economy, for the justice beyond the law, for the hospitality beyond proprietorship, for forgiveness beyond getting even’ (111; his emphases).

This experience of the impossible shattering of hopes, fears, prayers and tears, forces ‘being into motion, mutation, transformation, reversal’ (9). The experience of the impossible is ‘a transforming event on the level of meaning and existential significance’ (207), not instigating an entitative change but offering a new meaning and calling for transformation, for metanoia (206-207).

This transformation is not exacted through the strong force of the omnipotent God of metaphysics, a God which then requires the obscenity of theodicy. As Caputo writes, ‘God is not up to what metaphysics calls God’ (244). Rather, Caputo “cross wires” St Paul’s ‘weakness of God’ (which still hides power, 49) with Derrida’s ‘weak force,’ Vattimo’s ‘weak thought’ and Benjamin’s ‘weak messianic force’ (7). Both Caputo’s “God” and his theology are ‘weakened by undecidability and translatability’ (9) and ‘weakness is constructed as a blessing’ as in the Beatitudes (11). The event is thus weak, with a power of the powerlessness, as ‘a call is as weak as a word, as a breath of air, a trace, or a sigh’ (15) and is it a Derridean ‘sovereignty without force’ (29).

‘The name of God, what we call God, is God’s call, the word he pronounces, the promise that he inscribes in creation, the word that calls things good. The name of God is the name of an unconditional promise, not of an unlimited power. A promise made without an army to enforce it, without the sovereign power to coerce it. That is what I am calling the weak force of God. That force is the power of powerlessness’ (90)

Tomorrow: Truth in Weak Theology - part three - kingdom without kingdom.

Truth in Weak Theology - part one - Names and Events

Okay, enough posts on Oakland!



Over the next few days I'll post bits of what I'm working on at the moment, which is a paper on truth, weak theology and a/theism. To start with, a few posts laying down the key concepts in Jack Caputo's (2006) The Weakness of God. He ends with “A Concluding Prayer – for Theology, for the Truth, for the Event,” so I'll also be blogging about how truth is figured in TWOG.

• Weak Theology isn't a systematic theology, so it doesn't lend itself well to being broken up into distinct chapters within a linear progression, so it's going to be quite a job to hope (against hope!) to con(s)t(r)ain it to set of posts rather than one long one, but I'll try. The posts will roughly follow this pattern:

• Caputo's distinction between names and events

• Aporia, or undecidability; the impossible; and weakness

• Pragmatic rather than semantic translation of events; the kingdom (without kingdom) of God; and hyper-realism

• A/theism

• and truth in Weak Theology

Names and Events

Caputo’s (2006) The Weakness of God hinges on a reduction, which is at the same time a magnification, of the name of God to an event. His distinction between names and events pivots on the conditioned nature of names and the unconditionality of events. For example, the name of God contains an event it cannot contain, in a relative stability which will always be undone, deconstructed, by the event itself. In this way, ‘a name is a promissory note that it cannot itself keep… asked to carry what they cannot bear toward a destination they do not know’ (3). The burden of names is an event beyond and below being, not an actual entity nor being itself, but something – I know not what – astir in the plane of being, calling being beyond itself.

This event is uncontainable, while names are endlessly translatable into other names. ‘No name can be allowed to have a lock on the event, even the name of God itself, for the event that unfolds under that name comes and goes under many other names’ (267). As no conditioned name can contain the event and no conditioned name can ever be ‘impartially accessible to everyone or uniformly desirable by everyone’ (289), names need to be deliteralized and de-ontologized (3-4), reduced to the event which they harbour, a reduction which is simultaneously a magnification, even a Magnificat (123).

The event is a vocative, evocative and provocative force at work within names and beings, to solicit, seduce and disturb the plane of being (39), so that the event ‘would be something of which we would say not that it “is” but that it “calls”’ (13). The event is thus both excessive and unconditional, an in-coming (l’invention) rising independently of us (4), laying unconditional claim to us, without conditions (90) and without an ‘army to enforce its claims’ (17). The ‘best way to describe an event is not to say that “it is” but [that] it happens’ (153). Caputo prefers to ‘think of the world as addressed by a call, not produced by a cause, as an addressee, not an effect, and of God as a call, not a cause, as a beneficence, not a sovereign power’ (39).

His meditation on Genesis 1.2, in conversation with Catherine Keller’s (2003) theology of creation The Face of the Deep, highlights that God calls creation, contra creatio ex nihilo, not into being from non-being – as the barren earth (tohu wa-bohu), the deep (tehom), and the wind (ruach) are God's companions – but rather from being to beyond being, from being to life, from being to the good (58,67). Following this theology of creation, ‘God is an event, not in the order of power or being, but in the order of the good, the order of the order or command or call or appeal for the good, which calls for the good even when, especially when, things are going badly’ (53). Good, good, yes, yes. Viens, oui, oui. This call is Caputo’s ‘hermeneutical pre-understanding:’ ‘we are all constituted as the recipients of a call about whose origin we cannot comment with assurance’ (114).

While what is constructed (names) can be deconstructed, the event is undeconstructible. ‘The event is always undeconstructible because it is always promised or called for, always to come, whereas whatever actually arrives has arrived under present conditions and so is deconstructible.’ (6). Deconstruction of the conditioned name releases the unconditional event, but deconstruction is a condition built into the name, which cannot contain the uncontainable and so the name auto-deconstructs and the event translates itself endlessly. For example, ‘…when you cross the wires of différance with the name of God, the result is to have crossed out the name of God in order to release the event this name contains’ (35).

Deconstruction constitutes the slash between theism/atheism, the condition of possibility for distinguishing between names, their translatability, and the necessary structural gap between names and events (28). For Caputo, this gap ‘does not undermine faith but explains precisely why we need faith’ (25). Faced with the radical ‘undecidability’ of life – of from whence the call comes, for example – it is this undecidability that constitutes the very condition of possibility for decisions to be made, for the non-cognitive leap of faith to be made.

I'll pick up here tomorrow in Truth in Weak Theology - part two - Aporia

Oakland: Playing Games to Expose Emerging (Contemplative) Spirituality

Roger Oakland’s history of the emerging church and his aim of exposing emerging spirituality are a lesson in playing games.

Oakland’s aim is “to document in this book how the emerging church bridges Christianity and this ‘new spirituality’” of New Age mysticism (222), a “belief system that uses ancient mystical meditation practices to induce altered states of consciousness” (81).

However, his methodology involves neither fieldwork amongst authors, leaders, members and friends of emerging churches nor in-depth analysis of the published materials he quotes. Instead, Oakland uses several methods to draw inferences from literature by people like Leonard Sweet by placing this literature next to that of what Gordon Lynch terms “progressive spirituality” (2007 The New Spirituality), without interviewing those involved in emerging churches to determine if their spirituality is that of the New Age.

Firstly, Oakland plays a game of who’s related to whom. A few examples of this approach:

• Oakland refers to Lauren Artress, canon of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, whom he considers the catalyst for the use of labyrinths in ritual. He traces her connection to the emerging church through her pastoral overseer at the Cathedral, Alan Jones, who’s book, Reimagining Christianity, was endorsed by Brian McLaren (69)

• Concerning the history of the Emerging Church, the spirituality of the Leadership Network is traced from Bob Buford to the “business / management guru” (23) Peter Drucker: “while Drucker no doubt brought his business sense to the Leadership Network table, his spiritual overtones were prevalent as well; and they were passed on to Buford, who in turn passed them on to the emerging church” (24).
  
  

A second method used to demonstrate the mysticism of the emerging church, is to interpret the writings of emerging church authors and leaders through the lens of a more thoroughly contemplative or New Age author.

An example here is when Oakland quotes Brian McLaren writing on what Oakland refers to as “Kingdom Now theology,” and then goes on to explain what McLaren means through the work of New Age leader Barbara Marx Hubbard, who is described as “someone who might agree with McLaren” (158). While Marx Hubbard may well agree with McLaren, McLaren is never asked, nor are his writings analysed to determine, whether he agrees with her! Indeed, Oakland acknowledges that “she puts a little twist in the Kingdom Now theology” (159). But then he states, without demonstrating this, that “What Marx Hubbard proposing is little different than McLaren’s message” (159).

This methodology of inaccurate inference from one writer to another is astonishing and inexcusable – especially when Oakland aims to expose the former as similar to the latter. Oakland appears to be constructing his parallels between the emerging church and New Age mysticism, rather than exposing them.

A third tactic is to quote mystical elements of authors who are tangentially connected to the emerging church, or might be placed on the fringes of what I am calling “the emerging church milieu.”

For example:

• Marcus Borg (whom only one of my participants has mentioned). Oakland acquiesces that “most would not consider him an emerging church leader,” but engages in a game of “who are his friends?”, noting that he and McLaren participated in a conference together in 2006, and that Rob Bell references him in Velvet Elvis, and so on (196). Combing the second methodology mentioned above as well, Oakland proceeds to quote Borg and then asks, “What is behind this mindset? Listen to one New Ager describe what underlies this line of thought” (197). Did he think to ask Borg whether what underlies his thoughts is the mysticism of the New Age movement?

• Other people with tenuous connections to the emerging church but who Oakland includes regardless, include Philip Yancey, who “may not be an emergent leader, but his beliefs certainly fit with emerging spirituality” (213)
  

• As well as individuals whom emerging churches may not regard as emerging, Oakland also refers to practices such as drumming, which is included “even though some in the emerging church might consider [it] a bit extreme” (70)
  
  

A fourth strategy is a clear (intentional?) misreading of emerging church literature. A clear example is Rob Bell, quoted by Andy Crouch in his Christianity Today article, as “discovering Christianity as an Eastern religion, as a way of life” (cited 109). Oakland asks, seriously, “does he really believe that Christianity is an Eastern religion?” (109) He seeks an answer to this question through Bell’s references to the science of emergence, in which he writes that, “God empowers the land to do something. He gives it the capacity to produce trees and shrubs and plants and bushes that produce fruit and seeds. God empowers creation to make more” (cited 110). From this quotation, Oakland concludes that Bell is saying that “all creation is divine. Everything is God” (111). I don’t believe that this is what Bell is saying here at all. And to couple this misreading with a misreading of the Christianity Today quote is to misrepresent what Bell is saying about Christianity. By referring to it as an eastern religion, I believe Bell is highlighting that the nature of religion is understood differently in eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism – as a “way of life,” something to be lived out rather than philosophically or theologically abstracted and dissected.

Surely, Oakland realises that he can only use tactics for so long before readers think that his criteria for including authors and leaders in his account of emerging spirituality serves his agenda of exposing it as New Age mysticism rather than accurately describing the spiritualities of the emerging church milieu.

There are a few other points to be made. Oakland’s characterisation of New Ageism, contemplative prayer, and Christian mysticism, is influenced more by his evangelical context than by academic study of these phenomena. This goes back to what I was saying a few days ago about the foundational position of Scripture in evangelicalism, which prevents serious consideration of church history, understood as the valid religious experiences of previous generations of Christians. Therefore, for Oakland, that “Catholic monks have taught [meditative] practice for a long time” undermines rather than legitimates the contemplative prayer (82). The same goes for the mysticism of the desert fathers. For Oakland, “while outer quietness is legitimate, inner stillness of the mind is not” (82). His rejection of church history and tradition is a necessary correlative of his rejection of Roman Catholicism as authentic Christian expression: “A mystical prayer movement endorsed and actually initiated by Catholic monks (and accepted by Catholic leadership) should be alarming to any discerning Christian” (83).

Oakland’s lack of in-depth (and methodologically sound!) analysis of emerging church literature and of empirical data, begs the question: Is the contemplative prayer and mysticism of emerging churches the same as that of New Ageism or eastern religious traditions? Tony Jones clearly identifies his Jesus Prayer and centering prayer (from his 2005 The Sacred Way) as based on “the reflections and writings of the Desert Fathers” (cited 105). Oakland’s rejection of church history is the motivation for his characterisation of such prayers as un-Christian because of their grounding in history rather than Scripture. But there are examples of evangelical beliefs which have their grounding not in Scripture but in church history – for example, the doctrine of creation ex nihilo (see Jack Caputo’s 2006 The Weakness of God and Catherine Keller’s 2003 The Face of the Deep).

Oakland’s desire to expunge all eastern aspects of Christianity betrays a colonialist mentality, in which it is forgotten that Christianity emerged in the context of the Middle East, before the canonization processes of Scripture, and not in the last few centuries of Western history.

The Emerging Church Road to Rome? The Foundations of Scripture and Tradition in Modern Theology

Okay, so I thought I was going to post about Roger Oakland’s history of the emerging church next. However, after finishing his book yesterday (2007, Faith Undone) I just had to comment on the anti-Roman Catholicism running throughout. Such sentiments got me thinking about the position of Scripture and tradition in modern (and therefore postmodern) theology, so I’ll also be reflecting on the other two books that I’m reading at the moment: the (2007) A New Kind of Conversation: Blogging Toward a Postmodern Faith edited by Myron Penner & Hunter Barnes, and Nancey Murphy’s (1996) Beyond Liberalism & Fundamentalism: How Modern and Postmodern Philosophy Set the Theological Agenda.

First up: Faith Undone. Oakland’s book is a presentation of the “belief system” underlying the emerging church (19), a belief system which he at first refers to as “emerging spirituality” but as the book unfolds he increasingly prefers the language of “contemplative spirituality” and “mysticism.” His work does suffer from not setting out this agenda in his introduction, as he claims at its conclusion to have “tried to document in this book how the emerging church bridges Christianity and this ‘new spirituality’” (222) whilst throughout conflating the emerging church and with the new spirituality of New Age mysticism. I’ll refrain from outright saying that this conflation is intentional and integral to his agenda, but, as you can see, I have no problem with inferring this. Having just read Gordon Lynch’s (2007) The New Spirituality, which is a much better analysis of the underlying spirituality of what many might refer to as New Ageism, there are clear differences between what Lynch describes as progressive spirituality and the spiritualities of the emerging church milieu – an analysis of which will form a part of my thesis.

The bridge Oakland portrays is not even accurately referred to as that between Christianity and new spirituality. Rather, he is keen to demonstrate that the emerging church bridges biblical Christianity (evangelicalism) and several “unbiblical” Christian traditions and other world religions, including New Ageism (97), eastern religious traditions (89), and Catholicism (79). Referring to the Catholic Church, he writes that “The emerging church is one of the more significant bridges that has been established to bring the separated brethren back to the Mother of All Churches” (130).

To take an example, Oakland writes that “many well-known Christian leaders and teachers who promote the emerging church are now advocating the Catholic view of the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist” (133). I have not researched understandings of the Eucharist within the emerging church milieu, but the evidence Oakland provides his readers does not support this claim. Despite an increasing emerging church focus upon “traditional” liturgy, which has been historically visible among many Protestants – for example, High Church Anglicans – as well as Catholics (a point Oakland forgets on p.139), transubstantiation is not mentioned explicitly and cannot be inferred merely from the authors and speakers Oakland quotes. As he himself recognises, the examples refer to “rituals associated with the Eucharist” (134) – for instance, the applying of ashes to the forehead, the signing of the cross, etc – but they are not necessarily supportive of the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation. Where one author, Robert Webber, does experience a Catholic Mass (in the context of an ecumenical weekend retreat) he writes, “I had taken into myself the experience of another tradition, I had been in dialogue with another worship tradition, and I was surely the richer for it” (cited 138). Webber does not say “I had taken into myself the real body and blood of Jesus Christ.”

Throughout Faith Undone, Oakland is at pains to inform his readers that the aspects of the emerging church which he focuses upon – primarily contextualisation, certain liturgies and rituals, mystical experiences of God, a “Kingdom Now” theology, and a rejection of substitutionary atonement – are not found in the Bible. Repeated phrases such as “…cannot be found in the Bible” (64), “there is no evidence in the Bible that…” (67), “…unbiblical practices supported by Rome” (69), “foreign to Scripture” (83), “Nowhere in the Bible is there any precedent for this…” (183), “Nowhere in Scripture…” (99), “the Bible is not the source” (102) and “post-New Testament extra-biblical revelation” (73) hammer the message home to readers that “I have searched the Scripture. [insert an element that Oakland equates with the emerging church] just isn’t there!” (118). That these practices and theologies “can be found in church tradition” (60) is used, however, to denounce them, especially since, we are reminded, “the church fathers are the fathers of the Catholic Church” (74). “Why,” Oakland asks, “not just stay with Scripture in order to remain in the truth?” (73)

Oakland’s anti-Roman Catholicism has made me think about the positions given to Scripture and tradition within modern Christianity and modern theology, and what might be happening to these positions today.

Nancey Murphy argues that modern philosophy has given modern Christianity “only two viable strategies” (x), creating the distinctly liberal and distinctly conservative theologies of the contemporary Christian landscape. The shift towards what Murphy label “Anglo-American postmodernism” offers an opportunity for future theology, in which “there will be no intellectual compulsion to bifurcate the spectrum [from liberal to conservative] into two discrete camps” (3). Setting aside this part of her argument for another post, and for when I’ve finished the book (!), in reference to the justification of theological claims, the modern philosophical theory of knowledge – foundationalism – led to two possibile foundations for modern theology: Scripture or experience. “Conservatives have chosen Scripture; liberals, characteristically, have chosen experience” (2). For conservatives, this choice requires a bibliology (doctrine of Scripture – a word I learnt from A New Kind of Conversation) which includes the inerrancy of Scripture:

“if Scripture is to provide an indubitable foundation for theological construction, then all of its teachings must be free from error, lest the theologian make erroneous judgements in distinguishing true teachings from false ones or essential teachings from incidental cultural assumptions” (17).

For liberals, this choice requires a general anthropology which includes the possibility for all human beings to experience God, not just Christians (22-23):

“the scriptural claim that Christian self-understanding expresses an understanding of authentic human existence is to be tested against the criterion of adequacy to common human experience” (25).

Neither conservative nor liberals entirely divulge their theologies of either path, however each tends to privilege one over the other.


Murphy’s distinction is articulated in somewhat altered language in the multimedia project which produced a book of the blog http://www.anewkindofconversation.com/. Here, the dualism of Scripture or experience is expressed, as in Oakland’s work, as Scripture or tradition, which can be understood as collective experiences of Christians throughout time and space, history and geography. In responding to the observable suspicion or rejection of church history by evangelicals, Bruce Ellis Benson writes of the Protestant Reformation’s tenet of sola scriptura and its relationship to church tradition:

“Sola scriptura is taken to be the denunciation of the Roman Catholic magisterium as the true interpreter of Scripture, but not the denunciation of tradition as having an important effect upon interpretation” (68)

This position sparked a conversation among bloggers and commenters concerning the nature of epistemic foundations in postfoundationalist theologies, a conversation integral to my research in which many participants do talk of foundations for their “ordinary theologies” and “ordinary philosophies.” These foundations are, however, not based on rationalism. There are still profoundly important reasons for these foundations, however. In this sense, their postfoundationalism is a move beyond foundationalism, not beyond foundations themselves; their foundations are their beliefs, and this necessitates a whole other conversation about the nature of belief – which has itself shifted dramatically since one dictionary's definition of belief as “the feeling of certainty that something exists or is true.”

Roger Oakland's Critique of the Emerging Church

I’ve finally gotten around to reading Roger Oakland’s (2007) Faith Undone: The Emerging Church… A New Reformation or an End-Time Deception (I’ve noted the ominous absence of a question mark previously!)

I have a core set of books which form a critique of what they usually refer to as “the emerging church movement:” D.A. Carson (2005) Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church: Understanding a MOvement an Its Implications, R. Scott Smith (2005) Truth and the New Kind of Christian: The Emerging Effects of Postmodernism in the Church, and Thomas Hohstadt (2007) Beyond the Emerging Church: The End and the Beginning of a Movement, as well as various articles (online and mainstream media) from people like Chuck Colson and Phil Johnson, and more general evangelical denouncements of postmodernism like Douglas Groothuis (2000) Truth Decay: Defending Christianity Against the Challenges of Postmodernism, and Art Lindsley (2004) True Truth: Defending Absolute Truth in a Relativistic World. I also just found Whatever Happened to Truth? (2005). Any others out there?

But after only a few chapters, I was pleasantly surprised by Roger Oakland’s approach in his critique. I disagree with his conclusion that “behind this new kind of church is a well designed strategy and maneuver by the prince of this world, the enemy of our souls, to literally take apart the faith of millions” (20). That said, however, I’m glad of his approach.

Oakland notes the reductionism of other critics (19), who limit their “analysis” of the emerging church milieu to a few books published by some (more and less) influential authors. For example, D.A. Carson (2005) focuses upon Brian McLaren’s (2004) A Generous Orthodoxy and Steve Chalke’s (2003) The Lost Message of Jesus, written with Alan Mann. Fellow critic R. Scott Smith (2005) extends his literature review from the work of Brian McLaren and Tony Jones to postmodern theorists, theologians, and ethicists such as Stanley Hauerwas, Brad J. Kallenberg, Stanley Grenz & John Franke, and Nancey Murphy.

However, a limited, literature-based approach inevitably fails to grasp the complexities of this milieu, and privileges certain voices within it above others. Most research is conducted among a select number of leaders of emerging Christian communities, whether through interviews with them or through reviews of their published works, instead of undertaking fieldwork amongst ordinary community members. But this reductionism not only occurs amongst a group that might be called “anti-emerging church outsiders”; it is also important to note that, particularly in a UK setting, several popular empirical studies are undertaken by these same select leaders themselves. For example, Jonny Baker’s MA dissertation on the labyrinth, Ben Edson’s doctoral work on emerging church missiology, and Ian Mobsby’s MA dissertation on emerging church and fresh expressions’ ecclesiology and Anglicanism. Emerging church researcher Bryan Murley has blogged about the need for “outsider” research here.

I was both genuinely surprised and genuinely glad that Roger Oakland has identified this tendency within the criticism of emerging churches, and that he seeks to avoid such a reductionist methodology in his book. “Faith Undone examines not just the obvious leaders of this movement but will examine the much more encompassing emerging spirituality. Through this book, I hope to expose a belief system, rather than just a group of particular leaders” (19 his emphasis).

This approach is similar to Gordon Lynch’s methodology in his (2007) The New Spirituality, which I’ve blogged about before. Oakland, albeit through a literature review and ostensibly not through empirical research, seeks to identify “the spirituality behind the teachings” (19) in a similar fashion to Lynch’s identification of a progressive milieu and the progressive spirituality which emerges from such an environment. I aware that Lynch is engaged in the academic study of the sociology of religion and spirituality, whilst Oakland is engaged in the polemical defence of one theological position and the concerted attack of another. However, Oakland's objective of attempting to “unveil a belief system” (19) which underpins numerous individuals, communities and organisations, rather than to assess (or indeed “attack” 19) individual authors or leaders, significantly increases the analytical value of this work, in comparison with other critics’ reductionism. I disagree with his conclusions and he still makes some inaccurate generalisations, but I appreciate Oakland’s more inclusive approach to data collection in his denouncement of the emerging church.

Oakland's history of the emerging church is also interesting: in parts thought provoking, in others highly entertaining. I’ll post about that shortly!

Seminar Paper Invitation

Somewhat closer to finalising this term’s Religious Studies seminar series (co-ordinating with Prof. Paul Heelas – he’s the one at the back - I'm not pictured!), I'm filling a gap by giving a trial run of ideas I hope to present at the Society for Continental Philosophy and Theology conference in April. The conference now has it's own website here.

The paper has to be written and submitted by 15 Feb, and will be presented to philosophers and theologians. I'm used to sociologists of religion, so I'm going to give this more philosophical paper it's first outing in the friendly atmosphere of our Departmental Seminar Series '08. It'll be entitled "Truth, Weak Theology, and the Emerging Church Milieu," to cover enough ground for an hour's talking and half an hour's questions - which can then be distilled into the 3,000 word paper I need to submit to the SCPT.

I'm going to try to solidify my thoughts about a new approach to the emerging church phenomenon, trying to define the (porous) boundaries of a milieu, rather than attempting to contain the diversity exhibited by emerging churches in one all-inclusive definition of an 'emerging church.' So I'll be playing with this idea of a milieu, and how I might present this milieu to others unfamiliar with the subject. It'll be a more sociological introduction to get everyone into the topic, before moving onto some more philosophical and theological aspects.

Still in the process of transcribing, I'm trying to talk in broad brush strokes about the fieldwork, but by the time it comes to presenting the paper I hope to have done enough transcribing to speckle it through with quotations from participants. I'll talk broadly about the themes around truth that are emerging from the fieldwork (can't help using that word sometimes!), before concentrating on deconstruction and weak theology.

I'll post a bit more about this paper once I know where it's going, but if anyone is in the Lancaster area on Monday Feburary 4th (4.30 - 6.00pm) you'd be more than welcome to come along! It's held in a place called the Institute for Advanced Studies (which makes every other department in the University feel like it isn't advanced enough!).

I'll also doing a mini-presentation around "Critical Terms for Religious Studies" the week after (Feb 11th). Paul is going to present the difficulties surrounding the term 'belief,' and I'll be exploring 'culture.' Increasing attention is being paid to the manifestations of religion and spirituality in what is commonly referred to as 'popular culture' or 'contemporary culture.' Entities such as 'Western culture' and 'indigenous culture' are also frequent sites of study for researchers. New expanding areas incorporate this language, such as the study of 'occulture' (Chris Partridge). But what do researchers mean when they talk of 'culture'? What is this thing called 'culture'? What is 'popular culture'? Or 'indigenous culture'? How have researchers defined 'culture'? Why is 'culture' critical in the study of religion? All this and more... Feb 11th.

UPDATE: Check out the schedule for our Lent Term seminar series here.

Spiritual Warfare against Uncertainty

Over New Year, I read John MacArthur’s (2007) The Truth War: Fighting for Certainty in an Age of Deception. The inclusion of the theme of certainty in the subtitle, as well as the general focus upon truth, makes this book of particular relevance for my literature review of evangelical publications which condemn the notions of truth at work in what I’m now calling the ‘emerging church milieu.’

Revealingly, in his subtitle MacArthur does not contrast certainty with uncertainty, but rather with “deception.” For him, not knowing is a form of unbelief and unbelief among church leaders deceives others. He writes that, “It is unbelief cloaked in a religious disguise and seeking legitimacy as if it were merely a humbler kind of faith” (xvi) and, “Advocating ambiguity, exalting uncertainty, or otherwise deliberately clouding the truth is a sinful way of nurturing unbelief” (xi). MacArthur therefore sets out to show not only the certainty of Christian truth (i.e. that “we can be supremely confident, even in this era of doubt and uncertainty” [51]) but the nature of uncertainty as unbelief.

Though the “Emerging Church Movement” is explicitly mentioned as the target of this book’s unfriendly fire, MacArthur does not engage in a thorough examination of the emerging church milieu. Rather, he limits himself to a few texts, primarily Brian McLaren’s (2004) Generous Orthodoxy, and (2001) A New Kind of Christian, Stanley Grenz and John Franke’s (2001) Beyond Foundationalism, and makes minor references to Andy Crouch’s (2004) ‘The Emergent Mystique,’ Donald Miller’s (2003) Blue Like Jazz, and Rick Warren’s (1995) The Purpose-Driven Church.

While MacArthur states that “Truth never changes with the times, but heresy always does” (100) and is clear that such heresies include Judaizers (85-88), Gnosticism (88-94), Sabellianism (100-102), and Arianism (102-115), the contemporary heresy he identifies in this book is blurred, as both the emerging church and mainstream evangelicalism are criticised.

At the conclusion of the book, contemporary evangelicalism is the clearer target: obsessed with PR and marketing approaches to packaging the gospel, overly concerned with methodology rather than theology in order to present itself as relevant and cutting edge, accommodating of political correctness, and catering to reduced attention spans (146-150, 152-154, 166).

But at the outset, the postmodernist uncertainty of the “Emerging Church Movement” is presented as the threat, where “The remodeling (sic) of our ideas about truth and certainty poses a severe danger to the heart and core of the Christian gospel” (xxiii). MacArthur states (rather than demonstrates – he does not engage any postmodernist theorists) that whilst “Postmodernists despise truth claims” (12), “Uncertainty is the new truth” (16). However, for MacArthur, both the “overconfident rationalism and human conceit” of modernity (10) and the irrationalism of postmodernity (13) are “dead wrong and equally hostile to authentic truth and biblical Christianity… Rationalism needs to be rejected without abandoning rationality” (13). Such an understanding of postmodernism, however, mistakes a desire to rethink human reason in late- or postmodernity for a wholesale rejection of reason and embracing of irrationalism.

For MacArthur, both the emerging church and the state of evangelicalism today require that “faithful Christians” (xxiv) respond through spiritual warfare, as “it is actually a sin not to fight when vital truths are under attack” (xxiv). Whilst MacArthur is not advocating physical war (28-32) – contrasting Christian spiritual warfare with Islamic (lesser) jihad and in the process ignoring Islam’s greater jihad which is spiritual in nature – he describes this warfare as “cosmic,… engaging the armies of hell, which are arrayed against Christ. Their weapons consist of lies of all kinds – elaborate lies, massive philosophical lies, evil lies that appeal to humanity’s fallen sinfulness, lies that inflate human pride, and lies that closely resemble the truth. Our one weapon is the simple truth of Christ as revealed in His Word” (49). For MacArthur, then, this war is a “Truth War” in the sense that it is a war fought against the untruth of others and a war fought with the weapons of truth.

Whilst this war is waged against evil ideas rather than against the people who believe them (180), such believers are explicitly and implicitly regarded by MacArthur as:

• “trendy thinkers” (1)
• “grossest hypocrite[s]” (37)
• “false teachers” (42)
• apostates (43-44)
• “wolves in sheep’s clothing” (44)
• “shallow and insincere people” (45)
• “those who are immature, weak, ignorant, or cowardly” (48)
• “satanic missionaries” (62)
• “spiritual terrorists and saboteurs” (82)
• “truth vandals” (97)
• “ungodly” (136)
• even lewd (120)
• power hungry (143)
• “proud” (143)
• celebrities (169)
• “confused” (178)
• “soiled underwear” (181)
• “evil” (181)
• and “no true friends of Christ” (184).
  
  

MacArthur writes, “Speaking plainly: if you are one of those who questions whether truth is really important, please don’t call your belief system ‘Christianity,’ because that is not what it is.” (xx) However, this is to misunderstand those within the emerging church milieu, who do not question the importance of truth, but rather question its nature.

MacArthur’s understanding of truth is stated as biblical in its content, its effects, and its nature. Thus, truth is “what God decrees” (183), including “the doctrine of justification by faith, the principle of substitutionary atonement, and the absolute authority and perfect sufficiency of Scripture” (47). Secondly, truth is salvific: “Truth (the simple truth of the gospel, to be specific) is necessary for salvation” (119), and salvation is understood as personal – “truth is the only thing that can liberate people from the bondage of sin and give them eternal life” (119). Thirdly, truth is an objective reality. “Truth exists outside of us and remains the same regardless of how we may perceive it. Truth by definition is as fixed and constant as God is immutable. That is because real truth (what Francis Shaeffer called ‘true truth’) is the unchanged expression of who God is; it is not our own personal and arbitrary interpretation of reality… Such a self-willed approach to the truth is tantamount to usurping God” (xx-xxi). Truth is “the way things really are” (2) and “cannot be adequately explained, recognized, understood, or defined without God as the source” (4).

But MacArthur doesn’t actually prove this latter point, he just states it. He gives a very brief history of secular philosophy: Socrates, Plato and Aristotle (truth through nature), “DesCartes” (sic) (truth through reason), Locke (truth through the senses), Kant (truth through a combination of rationalism and empiricism), and Hegel (truth as progressive evolutions), whence the irrationalism of Kierkegaard, “Nietzche” (sic), Marx and Henry James flows (6-7). He then states that, “Elaborate epistemologies have thus been proposed and methodically debunked one after another… After thousands of years, the very best of human philosophers have all utterly failed to account for truth and the origin of human knowledge apart from God.” (7). However, there is no critical engagement with these philosophers in order to demonstrate their utter failure.

On the back cover, it is claimed that this book “reveals:

• The pitfalls of postmodern thinking
• Why the Emerging Church Movement is inherently flawed
• Past skirmishes in the Truth War and their effect on the Church
• The importance of truth and certainty in a postmodern society
• How to identify and address the errors and false teachings smuggled into churches.”
  

I’m not sure The Truth War does these things to the degree hoped for by MacArthur – or even by myself, as there is not much here to get my teeth into in terms of an academic response.

MacArthur does not engage with postmodern thinking to a sufficient level to reveal its pitfalls, and does not even reference other scholars and theologians who have endeavoured to do so. His presentation of ideas within the emerging church milieu (restricted to roughly three texts, and conducted across relatively few pages) is likewise insufficient to provide a base understanding from which to demonstrate any flaws. While I agree MacArthur introduces the reader to four heresies (Judaizers, Gnosticism, Sabellianism, and Arianism) with a clarity that comes from their introductory nature, the effect of these heresies on the church is not treated with any historical or theological depth.

MacArthur signals the fervour among fundamentalists for truth and certainty in late- or postmodernity, and observes the apathy of many others concerning religious truth. He likewise paints broad brush strokes of postmodern approaches to truth. While the back cover claims MacArthur reveals the importance of truth and certainty in a postmodern society, MacArthur himself seeks to show the importance of his understanding of truth and certainty for a postmodern society. The ways in which he attempts to demonstrate this importance require the threat of damnation (133).

Finally, his advice for identifying false teachings and wolves in sheep’s clothing emphasises biblical discernment: “The only way to develop the discernment necessary for detecting such subtle error and correctly assessing its danger is by applying oneself conscientiously to the task of rightly dividing the Word of God” (133-134). I’m not completely sure what “dividing the Word of God” is, and MacArthur doesn’t feel the need to explain. Maybe it’s one of the many references to evangelical culture I don’t get. But elsewhere MacArthur is clearer: “God’s Word is plain enough” (157), “far more issues are black and white than most people realise” (195), there are “universally self-evident truths” (3), and “The true meaning of Scripture – or anything else, for that matter – has already been determined and fixed by the mind of God. The task of an interpreter is to discern that meaning’ (xxi). Whilst humanity cannot know God’s mind exhaustively, we can know it sufficiently to identify it’s opposite (183), as “Most of the truths of God’s Word are explicitly contrasted with opposing ideas” (195). Nowhere does he address contemporary literary theory in order to debunk the death of the author thesis.

MacArthur’s correspondence theory of truth and realist approach to language are signalled by this and other examples of his stance on biblical interpretation. These theories rest on ‘sure’ foundations, the construction of which as ‘true’ and ‘certain’ necessitate MacArthur’s association of uncertainty with untruth and unbelief, and therefore deception. He does not, however, critically examine any of these assumptions, and this is the main flaw of his work.

Progressive Spirituality and the Emerging Church Milieu

Over Christmas I read Gordon Lynch’s (2007) The New Spirituality: An Introduction to Progressive Belief in the Twenty-first Century. Despite some minor quibbles (for example, his confusion of the 2nd and 3rd waves of feminism, and his inclusion of Willow Creek and the Alpha Course alongside “other forms of experimentation with the ‘emergent church’,” - two disappointing misunderstandings, both on p.25), Lynch’s study of what he refers to as “the progressive milieu” is impressive, absorbing, and stimulating.

Through an extensive review of print and online media, Lynch argues that far from being amorphous and/or insignificant entities, both this milieu and what he terms a “progressive spirituality” are organised around and arise out of identifiable sets of values, beliefs, and practices.

Firstly, then, the progressive milieu is constituted “by individuals, groups and networks who tend to be either liberal or radical in theological terms or green and left-of-centre in political terms” (20). Those involved are sympathetic to liberal democracy’s core values (for example, tolerance, autonomy, diversity), hold green or left-wing political attitudes (for example, concerned with environmentalism, social justice, civil rights), and/or are theologically liberal or radical. Lynch includes in this latter characteristic a willingness “to revise religious tradition in the light of contemporary knowledge,” a sympathetic relationship to feminist critiques of institutionalised religion, and beliefs that “there is a truth inherent in all religious traditions” (98).

Lynch portrays progressive spirituality (which is not the only spirituality possible within this milieu – a point to which I shall return at the end of this post) as arising out of four imperatives within the progressive milieu:

• “the desire to find new ways of religious thinking and new resources for spiritual growth and well-being that truly connect with people’s beliefs, values and experience in modern, liberal societies” (23-25);
  
• the development of “a spirituality that is not bound up with patriarchal beliefs and structures, and which can be relevant and liberating resource for women” (25-29);
  
• “attempts to reconcile religion with contemporary scientific knowledge,” particularly grounding spirituality in contemporary scientific cosmologies (29-25);
  
• and “moves to develop a spirituality which reflects a healthy understanding of the relationship of humanity to the wider natural order and which motivates constructive action to prevent ecological catastrophe” (35-38).
  
  

After tracing the development of progressive spirituality from these four imperatives, Lynch sets about clearly defining the ideology of progressive spirituality. This ideology is “a cluster of related ideas and values that recur with striking regularity” in the various media produced by the milieu (41). However, this ideology should not be understood as a spiritual worldview that is espoused universally by all those sympathetic to the wider progressive milieu. As mentioned above, Lynch’s methodology leans heavily towards a multi-media literature review (albeit supported by an amount of interview and ethnographic data), and he uses Antonio Gramsci to characterise the producers of these various media (books, magazines, articles, pamphlets, websites, etc.) as “‘organic intellectuals’ whose life and work is embedded within the social structures and relationships of the progressive milieu, and who represent its leading intellectual edge” (41). The resources thereby produced are used in a myriad of different ways for a multitude of different purposes, the exploration of which is beyond the scope of Lynch’s current publication (72).

Lynch presents the four key elements which characterise the religious ideology of progressive spirituality thus (43-65):

• “a belief in the immanent divine unity which nurtures and sustains the unfolding cosmos;
  
• “the sacralisation of nature;
  
• “the sacralisation of the self;
  
• “and a belief that these spiritual truths can be discerned within and beyond different religious traditions” (98).
  

This latter point revolves around an understanding of religion as historically and culturally contingent attempts to “approach the mystery of the divine presence – a mystery which ultimately defies definition” (60). However, while “no single tradition can claim to be the final, authoritative revelation of the divine” and are to be “treated as metaphorical ways of conceiving the divine [rather] than direct representations of the truth” (60), Lynch’s characterisation of progressive spirituality implies that it understands truth as correspondence and as accessible (albeit only in part), through a variety of religious practices. Lynch writes, “Progressive spirituality does resemble postmodernism in its celebration of different religious styles and traditions, rather than the pursuit of a unitary style that characterized some form of modernism, but in reality, progressive spirituality is much closer to modernism. Underlying the range of religious traditions that it welcomes, progressive spirituality sees a common essence of truth… It may be less optimistic about social and cultural progress than some earlier forms of modernism – but progress it seeks, nevertheless, towards a more spiritually grounded, sustainable and just society” (68). Hence the name, perhaps?

In relation to my PhD research, Lynch’s work touches on several interesting areas, as well as sparking thoughts about how I can present the ‘emerging church’ phenomenon to readers of my thesis. I’ll detail three particular areas of commonality between spiritual progressives and those involved in emerging Christian communities, before reflecting on the methods Lynch uses to introduce The New Spirituality of his title.

Firstly, Lynch recognises the central role which opposition plays in the development of collective identity among nascent movements. Progressive spirituality “distinguishes itself very clearly from certain other forms of religion and cultural ideology,” for example authoritarian religions and secularism, and “defining these opposing religious and ideological viewpoints plays an important role in giving shape and content to the identity of religious and spiritual progressives” (63). Constructions of ‘others’ by progressives (which is, as Lynch observes, “not to say that it has no external validity”) are vital in the process of community formation on ideological and practical levels. This construction of oppositional others is clear also among emerging Christian communities. Lynch’s description of religious progressives is helping me to think about how constructions of fundamentalist and modernist evangelicalism function for the ‘emerging church.’

Second, progressives’ views about social boundaries are also akin to positions taken by emerging Christian communities, particularly as these positions are articulated by the “organic intellectuals” of the ‘emerging church.’ Lynch writes, “By and large, progressive religious groups and networks are not interested in boundary issues of who does and does not properly belong to these groups or who does or does not fall within acceptable boundaries of ‘orthodoxy’ in progressive faith. Indeed the strong emphasis on tolerance and valuing of diversity amongst progressive groups, means that concerns with tightly maintained boundaries and group orthodoxy tend to be seen as the regressive and unhealthy obsessions of more traditional forms of religion” (42). The ideology which Lynch identifies with progressive spirituality is not, therefore, a ‘statement of faith’ which must be subscribed to by all progressives. Rather, the ideology is understood as a “potential basis for mutual identification, communication, and collaboration” (42). In much the same way, subscribing to more bullet points of ‘emerging church-ness’ does not make one more emerging, but rather enables broader and deeper levels of respect, dialogue, and support.

A third interesting point of comparison concerns another aspect of progressive identity. Lynch acknowledges that “collective identity within such movements is socially constructed, focused around overlapping and sometimes contradictory accounts of both the movement’s goals and methods, and the social and cultural environment in which it operates. This process of ongoing negotiation occurs not simply through explicit conversations about the movement’s identity, activities and context, but also takes place through the movements’ developing practices and rituals, and the way in which it produces and uses cultural artefacts. It is also a process that is embedded in a range of social relationships” (89-90). Crucially, then, identity formation is conducted within a range of contexts which produce both underlying cohesions and localised divergences. Lynch’s approach is thus able to take note of both these instrumental aspects of identity, and I am interested in what the “field of beliefs and aspirations” (90) might be within which individuals and groups negotiate what it means to be ‘emerging.’

A final point to be made about Lynch’s study of progressive belief relates to the method through which he introduces his readers to his subject. This “new spirituality” is first grounded within a particular religious milieu, the “progressive milieu,” and Lynch identifies the criteria through which individuals and communities can be confidently placed within this milieu. While allowing that this milieu might enable other types of religious ideology, progressive spirituality is then presented as the most prevalent spirituality within the progressive milieu, and its key characteristics are explored. The roles and practices of religious organisations and networks situated in the milieu are then likewise examined.

My attempts to accurately describe the ‘emerging church’ phenomenon to lay and academic readers, both familiar and unfamiliar to it, led me away from the language of ‘emerging church’ towards the more inclusive and plural phrase ‘emerging Christian communities.’ The realities of my fieldwork methodology then led me further to describe participants as ‘members and friends of emerging Christian communities.’ However, even this phrase is not entirely suitable. Firstly, the use of the word ‘members’ suggests an (over-)emphasis on boundaries which is not always present, and a differentiation between types of relationship (members and friends) could introduce social structures which may or may not be already apparent. Further, not all the individuals participating or communities represented understand themselves as ‘Christian.’ But over the last few days, Lynch’s approach to the progressive milieu and progressive spirituality has sparked further ideas about how to present my research subjects to readers.

Due to the similar nature of the two phenomena, Lynch’s approach can be mapped on to a study of emerging Christian communities without much modification. A relationship to the term ‘emerging church,’ however complicated, suggests that individuals and communities can be assigned to what I shall call the emerging church milieu. Inhabitancy of the emerging church milieu can accommodate a number of different understandings and usages of the phrase ‘emerging church,’ whilst simultaneously allowing me to dispense with speech marks!

I will then attempt to identify the defining features of the emerging church milieu, which will enable individuals, organisations, and networks to be placed within it without excluding the possibility of real differences amongst them. I will also examine the roots of the emerging church milieu, as well as the roles and practices of organisations, etc., within it. Through my exploration of the concept of truth among those involved in the emerging church milieu, I will then explore two potential (though not exhaustive) spiritualities within this milieu. Though I have yet to fix on names for them, you can guess from my thesis structure that I might call them Emergent Spirituality and A/theistic Spirituality.

This leads me to a criticism of Lynch’s approach, which lies solely with his choice of terminology. What Lynch describes in this book is one spiritual possibility for those in the progressive milieu, yet his assigning of the appellation ‘progressive’ to both the spirituality and the milieu implies a value judgement which is refused elsewhere in the book. It’s designation as a progressive spirituality suggests not only it’s prevalence in the milieu of the same name, but also it’s superiority and suitability over and above any other spiritual possibilities. The possible spiritualities which arise from the milieu should therefore be given different names from it, in order to avoid this confusion in an otherwise useful map for looking at contemporary spirituality.

Moving Forward

I had a good supervision session yesterday, my last one for a while as my supervisor is going on sabbatical next term [single tear rolls down cheek] I gave her an(other) overall structure for the thesis, which I feel comfortable working towards while she's away in Italy - although I imagine it will morph as I go along! It's already, like, the seventeenth structure I've had! My research questions (how do members and friends of emerging Christian communities understand the concept of truth, and what might the philosophical, theological and political implications of such concept(s) look like?) form the backbone of the thesis structure.

The Introduction contextualises my research questions by briefly framing them in the criticisms levelled at the "emerging church." I explain how the structure of the thesis relates to the main contentions I wish to make, and introduce themes which are peppered throughout.

Chapter One introduces the reader to emerging Christian communities through a thematic exploration of my (at the moment!) chosen terminology ("emerging Christian communities"). It consists of a sociological reflection on the position of these communities in the Christian landscape, an historical tracing of the emergence of these communities in the UK context, and a review of possible future trajectories. The last section of this chapter details the criticisms laid against the "emerging church" by evangelical detractors with particular emphasis on the ways in which these communities are imagined the undermine the truth claims of Christianity.

Chapter Two is a methodological chapter which details the multi-method through which I conducted this research. It introduces the reader to the participants and their communities, and reflects on theoretical, ethical and practice concerns generated by this project. I argue against the reductionist methodologies of other "emerging church" research which privileges the voices of certain individuals over others, thereby justifying my decision to conduct research on several levels in order to hear the voices of a spectrum of individuals. I also present my use of the Internet as both a research tool (e-questionnaires, Facebook) and as a research site (blogs, and other related spaces). I take the reader through the process of moving from an online context to an offline one, and back again, reflecting on the implications of these moves for research relationships.

Chapters Three and Four begin to unpick the philosophical implications of participants' understandings of truth. With regards to philosophy, there are two strands which emerge. An individual participant might stand firmly within one strand rather than the other, but several participants hold both strands in creative tension, and the communities from which participants come cannot be understood to fully exhibit one strand to the full exclusion of the other.

Chapter Three draws out the first strand. Here there is ontological realism and epistemological fallibility. Either there is or there isn't a God (the principle of bivalence) but human knowledge cannot fully grasp the nature of this reality. In this strand, deconstruction is understood as a phase which is a necessary response to modernist (evangelical) Christianity, but which must at some point give way to the process of reconstruction. Some elements within postmodern philosophy are understood to be relativistic or nihilistic, and Christianity cannot go the same way. This ontologically realist, epistemologically humble, and reconstructive strand has implication for evangelism, tending to emphasise cultural postmodernity, as well as a chastened (i.e. not nihilistic!) philosophical postmodernism, in order to contextualise mission in shifting paradigms.

Chapter Four details the second strand. Here there is a reluctance to answer (or even ask) questions of ontology. Rather than making judgements regarding the realist or non-realist nature of the Christian narrative, participants prefer to talk about hyperrealism. Also in contrast to the first strand, participants' epistemologies are not so much chastened as a/epistemologies, or epistemologies of active unknowing. Uncertainty and doubt is accompanied by the de-nomination of every naming of God. Deconstruction is understood as an inherent part of the Christian narrative, of Jesus' example, and of the Christian life. Christianity is understood as auto-deconstructive. Deconstruction, questioning, unravelling, are central to Christian faith, not as a necessary phase before the rebuilding, but as coexistent with faith. Truth is understood as an event which occurs to us and transforms us through a call, following the work of Jack Caputo. This understanding of truth as a call has implications for the type of community which develops around such a concept. A final section here explores the a/theism of participants and their understandings of orthodoxy as believing in the right way (i.e. lightly) rather than right belief.

A brief pause before I move on to explain the other chapters. I know what you are going to say, but it is not the case that Ikon can be neatly fitted into the second strand, with the other communities in the first! My differentiation between these strands doesn't work that way. There are participants within Ikon who, while holding to some of the tenets in strand two, identify more closely with strand one. And there are participants in other communities who have more affinity for the second strand than for the first. These two strands are not mutually exclusive, and can be (and often are) held in tension by participants.

Chapter Five meditates on the theological implications of participants' notions of truth and the philosophical strands drawn out in the preceding chapters. It examines Radical Orthodoxy in the light of participants' understandings of truth and argues that this theology is only useful for some of them. It also reformulates Radical Orthodoxy into what can be referred to as a "Generous Radical Orthodoxy." [titter, titter] I argue that Radical Orthodoxy's tone of certainty and preoccupation with being are the reasons that other participants can be said to exhibit a closer affinity with Weak Theology.

Chapter Six is the final chapter of the thesis (as it stands at the moment!) and explores the implications for politics of emerging understandings of truth. Here the two philosophical strands, which have continued to diverge theologically, re-converge politically. However truth is philosophically understood and in whichever theology these understandings feel at home, participants' responses to truth dovetail with each other. Here I explore notions of responding to the call and Caputo's kingdom without kingdom. I was tempted to also tackle a critique of Neo-Pragmatism from the perspective Generous Radical Orthodoxy and Weak Theology, though I think this was a little ambitious of me. Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see. Maybe a journal article, eh?

The conclusion will obviously do all standards things conclusion tend to do. I'll draw together all the threads of the thesis, breaking them down to show the various philosophical theories of truth at work among Christian communities. I reflect on the cultural contexts from which these understandings of truth emerge, and identify fruitful areas for further enquiry. Blah, blah, blah!

That's where my thinking is concerning my research questions and the structure of my thesis. I haven't yet finished transcribing the 30 interviews I conducted (in fact, I'm no way near), but I've been reflecting on the emerging themes [titter, God, I need a holiday!] and with this structure I feel more confident that I move forward with reading, etc., while I simultaneously try to finish the transcriptions. So... apologies to all participants who were looking forward to sitting down and having a good mull over their transcripts whilst sipping mulled wine - and I know that was, like, all of you!

As I transcribe, further themes are coming up which I will not be able to develop far in this thesis. For example, participants' views on Jesus, the historicity of the Bible, the nature of revelation, etc. I hope to be able to incorporate these themes into blog posts, however, so that everyone can continue those conversations even though they will not feature heavily in the thesis (whenever that gets done!).

As part of an open sourced approach to research, please let me know what you think of these preliminary thoughts.

Voices of the Virtual World wins Award

The first volume of the Wikiklesia Project, Voices of the Virtual World: Participative Technology and the Ecclesial Revolution, has won an award of merit from the Society for New Communications Research. From the press release:



"The Society for New Communications Research is a nonprofit global think tank dedicated to the advanced study of new communications tools, technologies and emerging modes of communication, and their effect on traditional media, professional communications, business and society."



A post revealing the other 2007 winners can be accessed here.