I recently read an article on nytimes.com by Yale law professor Stephen Carter in which he laments the reductionist way in 
which recent comments by US attorney general Eric Holder were interpreted by the wider media. Holder, speaking to Justice Department employees for Black History Month, stated that “in things racial we have always been and continue to be, in too many ways, essentially a nation of cowards.” Strong words perhaps, especially if one does not consider the whole of his 2,300 word speech (not a task I am here interested in). And that was precisely Carter’s complaint. Our culture, he says, is increasingly one that takes complex and intricate issues and strips them down to sensational headlines and emotionally charged arguments.
There are few issues of any importance that are not reduced, in public dialogue, to sloganeering and applause lines. Whether we argue over war or the economy, marriage or religion, abortion or guns, we reduce our ideas to just the right size for the adolescent tantrum of the bumper sticker.
Perhaps Carter’s article is itself somewhat reductionist. Nevertheless, I am inclined to agree with his sentiment. It seems rare to find a public figure treating an issue with balance, respecting complexity and differing opinions, rather than attempting to make a splash for his or her contingent. This is, however, probably not a phenomenon peculiar to our culture and time, as Carter’s article seems to imply. Rather, the broader experience of post-Fall humanity seems effected by this weakness for shouting over dialogue.
It is not surprising, then, that dialogue in the church is also at times coloured by such reducing. One area which comes to mind is the ongoing debate concerning the interpretation of the early chapters of Genesis. A strong contingent of conservative evangelicals have in recent years developed a somewhat shrill cry for the view of young earth, literal six day creation and left little room at all for fellow believers who still have a high view of scripture yet have come to interpret Genesis 1 differently. Does scripture teach that the universe was created in six literal days or does it allow for the possibility that evolution was the process which God used to create and fill the heavens and the earth? This is a complex issue about which many orthodox Christians disagree. My plea is that we do not caricature or, worse still, demonize those who disagree, but rather agree to disagree in a spirit of humility.
Switching gears somewhat (and treading still closer to home), I sometimes wonder if this is a tendency with which the charismatic branch of the church must deal with in a peculiar way. In the pursuit of building faith (often for healing and the miraculous), areas of genuine complexity are often swept aside. For instance, could this be one of the (possibly many) reasons why the church so often goes without any sort of theology of suffering? Is there not an approach to a doctrine of healing that is actually made more robust by deep considerations of human suffering? My personal yearning is to have faith that can move mountains without having to circumvent more difficult issues to get there.
My concerns, however, are accompanied with great appreciation for many followers of Jesus who demonstrate a better way. A striking example of this can be seen in the council of Jerusalem as recorded in Acts 15. Here the young church, guided by the Holy Spirit, overcame profound cultural pressures and potential personality conflicts and rendered the deeply significant decision that being a Christian did not require conversion to Judaism. A potentially explosive issue was treated not with reductionist emotionalism, but with humility, dialogue and cooperation with the Spirit’s guidance. (No doubt this triumph has been duplicated in many ways and at many times in the history of the church, even in our time.)
It strikes me that the sloganeering which Carter laments is often a result of either pride (the thirst to puff up one’s ego, the desire to make headlines) or fear (of differing views, of complexity, of losing one’s place in the world). In any case, the solution will require not a nihilistic skepticism which seeks to cast all argument into the quicksand of a hopeless complexity (for this too becomes reductionist), but rather a deeper identification with the Christ, both in his humility and unswerving confidence in His Father. In other words, what is needed at the table of debate and conflict (whether on the cultural level or at the coalface of interpersonal relationships) is a new humanity in whom, individually and corporately, Christ is being formed. As disciples of Christ we can both resist the desire to stoke the fire of ego and fix eyes on the power and weight of God amidst complexity and uncertainty. Neither pride nor fear of complexity are congruent with the robustness and radical humility of the gospel.
In conclusion, I ask what does this mean in practice? At times we will need to hold our convictions with an open hand (as perhaps in the case of views on Genesis 1). At other times we will need to embrace the reality that complex issues are not outside of the sovereignty of God (as in the case of the relationship of healing and suffering…we should not be afraid that a humble searching out of such things should weaken our faith). At all times we should operate out of a sense of humility and service to others (after the manner of Christ) so that no aspect of our lives become reductionist and loud at the expense of love for neighbour and enemy. Finally, I reiterate that such an approach does not mean we treat the gospel lightly. Rather, we deepen our faith confession and in so doing find the resources for just the sort of humility that a “loud” culture needs. S.D.G.
I wholeheartedly agree! Reductionism, in areas of both public and Christian debate, seems to be the biggest barrier to proper and meaningful dialogue between competing viewpoints. The tabloid press does not help here at all. If as Christians we are to be peacemakers (and if the church is to be properly _catholic_) I think we need to realise that resorting to reductionistic caricatures of those we disagree with is a distortion of truth, and therefore basically sinful.
But a question. Your in ministry in a charismatic church. As we’ve talked about, there is rampant anti-intellectualism in that context. What can we do in practice to facilitate a more sophisticated and fuller understanding of doctrinal (and other) debates, so that we don’t resort to silly reductionisms? Obviously sound teaching is necessary – but when so many charismatics seems so reluctant to ‘think’, or are inclined to oppose reason and faith (or word and spirit), or (as in my experience) even see the word ‘theology’ as having negative connotations; what can we do? We obviously want to bridge the gap between theory and praxis, but how do we get over people’s initial unwillingness to think deeply about issues?
First, it is you who said ‘rampant anti-intellectualism,’ not me.
Second, I think the place to start is just what I suggested in my post…particularly the humility of Christ. I find that at least some who my come across as anti-intellectual are actually afraid or feel insecure with regard to things doctrinal. When ideas are not immediately coherent, some respond with defensiveness (i.e. “Well I just read the Bible and believe it). For those who embrace theology, thinking and intellectual pursuits, it is imperative that it is not couched in a sense of superiority. This is actually a significant issue in my opinion.
Furthermore, I have been thinking (though not yet enacting) that a helpful approach could also be to discuss things concerning worldview. If one is gently helped to realize that there is no such thing as “just reading the Bible,” then examining in lesser or greater depth the thinking and faith assumptions that shape our reading. Along the same vein, it should be explored how we can show the basic relatedness of faith and reason, one informing the other and so on.
Lastly, the more we emphasize the goodness of creation and the connectedness of physical and spiritual (as was implied in your last post), the more ground we have to say that the mind and intellectual pursuit is just as integral to the life of discipleship as other areas. But those of us who are bent toward academia need to re-embrace the notion of a basic unity of theory and praxis so that we cannot be accused of pushing mere intellectualism…an often fair accusation that I think has caused much of the rift.
Those are great points. Very helpful practically.
Another question: the Catholic church, recognising the complexity of theological questions, has the system where an intellectual elite of Cardinals, theologians, the Pope etc. ‘decide’ on theological questions – or more accurately **define the boundaries of orthodoxy**. The task of the clergy is then to disseminate this already decided knowledge among the laity, and while there is room to manoeuvre on a lot of doctrinal issues, the laity know what the orthodox line is and have to stay within it to remain Catholic.
Do you think Protestant churches, and especially the ‘new church’ networks, have been damaged by favouring a much flatter structure, or no structure at all, where everyone is encouraged to study and interpret the Bible for themselves (albeit with some input from Sunday morning teaching), and if they then disagree with their church’s position, can just join another one which better fits their theology. I admit that description is a bit caricatured, but isn’t this flat structure just an extension of modernity’s invocation for everyone to ‘think for themselves’, and be very self-determining and autonomous (i.e. under no external authority)? And doesn’t this in turn explain the division in the Protestant church at large, over theological issues? [I note, of course, that some newer 'apostolic' networks have themselves gone a bit authoritarian, and over rather silly issues such as head-coverings - in this sense they go beyond the Catholic church in that they do not simply define the *boundaries of orthodoxy* (which should be generous), but dictate even small areas of Christian life and practice to the church member].
I’m not saying we all need to go Catholic, I’m just wondering if there are not things of value in that kind of system if it is well regulated and balanced, even though it can tend towards abuses of power, and even emasculate the laity, when taken to extremes.
“The Ammunition of Reduction and the Humility of Christ.”
That is the greatest blog post title I have ever heard.
Excellent thoughts. I read an article in a similar vein recently on NYT about so-called “experts” making wrong predictions. A longitudinal study found that “experts” who make decisive and headline-making predictions were statistically almost making random guesses, whereas more careful “experts” who were sensitive to nuance were more often correct.
I also think if the academy were to be more “incarnational” in its approach, it would close the gap of anti-intellectualism. Just as Paul “became as a Jew to the Jews, as weak to the weak,” so the academy needs to understand where the rubber-hits-the-road. This is why I liked that term “God•ol•o•gy” so much
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Re: Cardinals Defining Orthodoxy—
Stanley Hauerwas has vocalized a point that I had privately thought to myself, even before hearing he said it: The best thing that could happen for the American church would be for Bibles to be taken from the laity.
As insane as it sounds, there is a tremendous degree of truth. Protestantism represents what Alister McGrath has called Christianity’s “dangerous idea,” that each and every person can read and interpret the Bible for themself. And as history has demonstrated, this has had disastrous consequences for the unity of the church (Eph 4).
Stamping out false teachings is a command of the New Testament, so I never think polemics (rightly-conducted) should ever be stopped. Historic creeds have simultaneously maintained what we affirm, but also what we deny. If we don’t include what we deny, then lots of false teachings can still fall under the broad umbrella of “orthodoxy.”
When the Reformers translated scriptures and disseminated them, they had the foresight to know that they are ancient documents that cannot just be read however one wants. They made what we now refer to as “Study Bibles,” to teach people how to understand.
When I read Plato (400 BC), I don’t just pick it up and read. I have to understand the historical context, the purpose, etc. So I read introductions and study guides, to then be able to understand Plato.
The same should be true of Paul, Jesus, etc.
Similar to Cardinals (et al.) defining Catholic orthodoxy, Protestant equivalents can take forms such as we already see: cross-denominational committees collaborating on theologically-neutered translations of scriptures, cross-denomenational committees collaborating on study Bibles, etc.
I think this needs a lot more exploration. Ecclesiology has quickly moved to one of the highest theological points on my list, to explore how all of these dynamics can play out.
On the one hand, we need a strong stance on correct doctrine; on the other hand, we need the freedom to constantly evaluate our interpretations of scripture in light of discoveries in God’s general revelation (Galileo, evolution (?), etc.).
Ecclesia Reformata, Semper Reformanda — “The Church Re-Formed, Always Re-Forming”
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Good stuff, DJS.