Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Learning from the “Sacramentalists”: Weaknesses of the Commemorative Ordinances View

I issue apologies for last time and issue them ahead of time in this post. Labels are tricky. Usually they are misnomers. It is a bit inaccurate to associate the Baptist view of the sacraments with Zwingli, who retained infant baptism (though the Anabaptist movement did begin among Zwingli's followers in Zürich who simply disagreed with the Reformer on the mode and subject of baptism but not on the spiritually "dry" nature of it, and, of course, one can argue that adult baptism is the logical development issuing from Zwingli's understanding of the nature of faith and his radical duality between spirit and matter.)

The "sacramentalist "label I utilize this time is liable to get me in trouble from the Reformed direction because it sounds too Catholic, but thankfully Scott Clark, Michael Horton, and the other radical Puritans do not read my blog even though I read theirs (though, duh, 1) who am I that they would read me, and 2) I read those guys primarily for comedic purposes anyway).

I must also note that it almost feels as if I take everything I offered as potential strengths of the commemorative ordinances view back in critiquing it, but I would offer that those things still are commendable even if emphasizing them too much can lead us into trouble. Such, however, is the nature of the entire theological enterprise, hence the things I'm always muttering about "balance." Now to my list. Please note there will be more personal prognostications and theologizing in this list than in the last one, as I am in apologetic mode for my position. Plus, some of my points require explanation:

1. That Baptist common sense, of which the commemorative ordinances view of baptism and the Lord's Supper is part, is often a good old-fashioned virtue. Sometimes, however, we are called on to repent of our virtues. That Baptist common sense is partially an un-biblical Cartesian brand of common sense that marks a wide gulf between spirit and matter. For instance, I bring forward the short version of the Southern (and I mean Southern) Baptist catechesis about baptism: "Water don't do nothin’ for you. If you ain't already saved, you go down a dry sinner and you come up a wet one." Absolutely, baptism is not effective for salvation if it is unaccompanied by present or future faith in Christ. What this fails to grab hold of, though, is the way signs and symbols, rites and rituals, and group belonging and identity can strengthen, form, and even create faith in individuals. Through baptism and the Lord's Supper, God can plant, water, and nourish seeds of faith and activate them for regeneration. Do we doubt that God's Incarnation as Jesus Christ, Christ's physical death and resurrection, God's Word spoken and read, and human messengers to bring the Gospel are indispensable to bringing us to saving faith and in causing that faith to grow and be nourished through sanctification? Matter matters and God has repeatedly used it throughout salvation history to reveal himself, accomplish his redeeming purposes, and communicate his salvation to his people.

2. The commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments presupposes an understanding of God's workings in the material and temporal spheres of existence that denies the angels' confession that "heaven and earth is filled with his glory." Modern evangelicals, even Calvinist ones, have conceived of God's work in the world and even in the visible church in ways that smack of Gnosticism, Platonism, and/or Deism. Basically, earthly, material existence is governed by the laws of nature and spiritual existence is governed supernaturally by God. This is not a biblical viewpoint. In spite of the Fall, God still actively governs the world. As Calvin has it, we should not think of ourselves as being nourished by food through the self-perpetuating, God-independent natural process of digestion but by the God who miraculously converts dead food into life and energy for our bodies. Of course, I am not denying biology or laws of nature, but nature could not function without the God who sustains all things by his power. The "death of God" theologians of the 60's were foolish to suppose that the universe would not dissolve into nothingness if God were to empty himself of his being.

3. Continuing in this line of thought, the commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments seems to be part and parcel of a truncated understanding of the scope of salvation and the means through which God communicates that salvation to us.

I will preface my explanation of that point by saying that Christians who hold the commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments are very good about getting the absolutely essential, first-order points of the Gospel right. Salvation is for the souls of individual people, and the salvation of the world begins with the spiritual salvation of individual people. Indeed, we are the firstfruits of cosmic salvation, because, as the spiritual condition of humanity goes, so goes the rest of Creation. Also, people are most assuredly added to the Kingdom by ones and by grace alone through faith alone.

However, where modern evangelicals and even classical, sacramental Protestants go wrong is in limiting salvation to human beings and in applying it almost exclusively to the spiritual capacities of human beings. God means to redeem every single inch of us and every single inch of the universe. In redeeming humanity to the uttermost, there is not a single aspect of human existence that is not grasped in some way by God's saving intentions. God means to redeem not just humans souls but human bodies as well and not just individuals but families, societies, and nations as well: "Go into all nations, baptizing them and teaching them everything I have commanded you." If God has targeted human society for redemption, then it follows that redemption is going to be expressed and communicated in and through human social structures, i.e., the family and the visible church. Likewise, if God has targeted the whole Creation for redemption, then it follows that redemption is going to be expressed and communicated in and through the earthly means of words, water, bread, and wine.

4. The commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments is connected to a misleading understanding of what faith is. The commemorative ordinances view seems to equate faith directly with beliefs, feelings, thoughts, and works of the will and works with anything that has a material or physical expression. Put in equation form, it looks this way: faith = spiritual > works = matter. That sounds a lot like the barren faith of James 2 that consists exclusively of propositions. This conceives of faith far too platonically. I think of faith as having an erotic quality. Like erotic love, faith is produced, revved up, and expressed through the senses. The sacraments work for faith like sex does for marriage. Sex produces, deepens, and expresses creaturely dependence on and trust in one's spouse (or so I‘m told) and the sacraments produce, deepen, and express the creaturely dependence on and trust in God that is faith.

An example: I have heard it suggested that the Roman Catholics might have come to a point of agreement with the Calvinists and Lutherans on the issue of justification by faith alone had they not confused or feared the confusion of the Platonist and anti-materialist understanding of faith espoused by the Zwinglians and the Anabaptists with the Calvinist and Lutheran understanding of faith. The Council of Trent condemned justification by faith alone because they feared that the Protestants meant in this doctrine that the sacraments had nothing at all to do with the application of salvation, as Zwingli and the Anabaptists taught. However, Lutherans and Reformed non-Zwinglians have absolutely no problem reconciling justification by faith alone with the sacraments' role in salvation. In fact, you won't find stronger stalwarts for the doctrine of justification by faith alone than the Reformed and Lutherans. Indeed, for us, the sacraments' role in creating and strengthening faith is a great support for justification by faith alone.

5. Holders of the commemorative ordinances view of the Lord's Supper, while not subject to the exclusive, myopic focus on the elements, have unduly narrowed the focus of this sacrament to a memorial of Jesus's death. What!? I'm not mad. Christ's death is the central focus, but he did rise again and he is coming again. The Lord's Supper is not a funeral; it is a celebration of the resurrection and the dawning of the New Creation. We remember Christ's death because of the resurrection. And, we are not just "remembering;" we are sharing in the body and blood Christ sacrificed for us once and for all at Calvary. Furthermore, we are not just communing in the body Christ offered for "me" but in the body he offered for the world and the body he has assembled and knit together out of people from every nation under heaven. We are not to simply look upward in worship to God but around us in love for our brothers and sisters. There is a lot to chew on in the Communion rite.

6. If the commemorative ordinances view does not kill the mystery in the sacraments by subjecting them to scholastic theology, it kills the mystery by denying that it exists! Mystery is not a bad word; it is our life. Luther believed that the memorial view was a "rational emptying" of the Lord's Supper. I agree. There is more than meets the eye going on in baptism and the Lord's Supper. We are worried about "magic," but I think we all too serious moderns could use a little more "magic" in our lives. Kids are far more innocent than we are and they like “magic.” They don't deny stuff because they can't explain it like we so often do. Faith is not so much the land of understanding as it is the land of simple belief and childlike awe and wonder. There’s nothing wrong with expecting God's work right where he promises it. This sacraments business may seem a little goofy and "mythological," but I'm fully prepared to be ridiculous. Screw Tillich and Bultmann! A "de-mythologized" Christianity is as good as dead.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Learning from the Zwinglians: Strengths of the Commemorative Ordinances View

A good exercise in intellectual honesty, Christian charity, and theological humility is to discern the points at which theological positions that one finds to miss the mark are helpful or valuable in considering the issue said positions seek to address. In addition to helping us put the best construction on our brothers and sisters and what they believe and so preserving love and unity in the body of Christ, this reminds us that we are not the only ones to come to the Scriptures and that what the Bible actually teaches is sometimes not quite so self-evident as it seems to us or to the theological traditions that guide and inform our thinking. Sometimes this opens the door to a new understanding of the issue at hand, or, sometimes, it reveals hidden points of agreement between positions that can serve as the basis for the resolution of the theological conflict.

The chief issue that has caused me to shift my theological and ecclesiological identity from Baptist to classical Protestantism of the Reformed and Presbyterian strain is the nature of baptism and the Lord's Supper. For me, I have become convinced that we should understand these rituals related to Christ's redeeming death and resurrection primarily in terms of God's work of using tangible signs and symbols to apply his promises of salvation to us. In other words, baptism and the Lord's Supper are sacraments. This is quite different from the Baptist and mainstream evangelical view that they are primarily memorials and human actions of obedience to attest faith in Christ, and thus that God is not at work in them in a particularly special way (at least not in any way that has to do with "things" or an objective Divine action for the church or for the members-God may very well be working subjectively in individuals' hearts or even in a way that engages the community but quite regardless of the "stuff" involved). For simplicity, I will describe this as the commemorative ordinances view.

Keep in mind, this distinction between sacraments and ordinances is a bit simplistic. They aren't polar opposites. We should understand this as more of a continuum than as an either/or proposition. That being said, we can most certainly sketch a theological divide between the view of baptism and the Lord's Supper as sacraments and the view of them as ordinances. I would submit that this issue is more broadly significant than the narrow question of what “happens” in these rites. The distinction reveals in the theologies of which each view is part important differences in hermeneutics and in understandings of the scope and nature of salvation, the ways in which God applies that salvation, the ways in which God is more broadly at work in the world, and somewhat different views of what constitutes faith.

The differences are not irreconcilable and I'm quite confident that most holders of both the sacraments' view and ordinances’ view are solidly orthodox Christians, but the differences of understanding in the bigger issues at play in this question were significant enough to compel me to shift my identity from a Baptist to a protesting catholic of a confessionally Reformed stripe. Furthermore, the issues involved in this question have been significant enough to constitute the biggest fissure dividing Protestants historically. It is this issue and not the sovereignty-free will debate that is the most fundamental divide between Christians this side of the Tiber (though it is quite likely they are connected somehow).

The following are the points at which I believe Christians who think otherwise can learn and benefit from the commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments.

1. This view is part and parcel of that common sense that makes the Baptist form of Christianity that most quintessential American Christianity. The faith that God is not bothered or hindered by nonexistent ecclesiastical structures or Christian social structures in non-Christian lands and on the American frontier—the faith that God can and does save even if there isn't anybody around to baptize you—was a huge factor in the evangelization of the North American continent and the Modern Missionary Movement.

2. This viewpoint is not susceptible to the obsessive, myopic focus on the bread and wine that has characterized Eucharistic theology for 2000 years. Obviously, what's going on with the symbols of Christ's body and blood is vastly important, but there are other considerations in play at the Lord's Table than how exactly Jesus is present in or with the elements.

3. In connection with the above point, the commemorative ordinances view of the sacraments is not susceptible to the blasphemous and objectifying instinct humans have to try to know and explain in precise, scientific detail the mysterious workings of God. If holders of the commemorative ordinances view shortchange themselves by failing to see God's special action through water and bread and wine, they do not shortchange themselves by killing the thing with scientific, metaphysical terminology and scholastic theology! No bothering about with "accidents," "pneumatic presence," "transubstantiation," "sacramental union," or thinking about "grace" as some kind of gas, substance, or goo to be accumulated.

4. Again, in connection with the previous points, if the sacraments are about communing with Jesus and seeing him face to face (in your fellow Christians' faces), trying to figure out how it's all working or thinking in terms of getting ready to receive something, i.e. "grace," rather than Someone seems to get in the way of experiencing Jesus. Holders of the commemorative ordinances view are not thinking about receiving a gift abstracted from the person of Jesus but rather about God's great gift of the Giver Himself, Jesus Christ. There's nothing to distract from Jesus when there's nothing but Jesus, even if it is just "Jesus in the air."

Next time, I will address the big points where the commemorative ordinances view fails to capture adequately the full and glorious biblical teaching about baptism and the Lord's Supper.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

For the Life of the World 4

I've been given the opportunity by my church to lead a small group study about the Church and the sacraments. We have been reading and discussing For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy by the late Father Alexander Schmemann. If you are interested in issues relating to the sacraments, ecclesiology, and Christian mission in secular society, this is absolutely an essential read. It is, of course, about the liturgical tradition of Eastern Orthodoxy from the perspective of an Orthodox. This book would seem to serve as a good starting point for exploring Eastern Orthodoxy and the sacramental theology of that tradition. As far as the sacraments are concerned, this would also be an excellent introduction to the topic in general and not just the Eastern view of them.

We are into the fifth week of the study. The following represents an expanded transcript of my outline and notes for this morning's discussion on chapter 4 regarding baptism, confirmation, and penance. It has been expanded from my original to incorporate the various directions that our discussion ended up going. It sparked quite a lively discussion about the meaning and effects of baptism. Please note that the following does not represent an Orthodox view of baptism but my own engagement with the material and my response to this morning's discussion. I will be posting my outline from previous weeks as well.

Of Water and the Spirit: Eastern Orthodoxy, Reformed Protestantism, and Baptism

We went out of the usual order of discussion by looking at the Eucharist before we discussed baptism. When I first read this book, I thought that was a little odd, but I thought it was really, really strange when Schmemann jumped to the topic of sacramental time before even dealing with baptism. People usually start with baptism because that marks the beginning of the Christian life. They try to follow the chronological order in which we experience the sacraments. Well, there's a method to Schmemann's madness. He tells us he deals with the Eucharist and the sacrament of time before baptism so we can see the cosmic dimensions of what exactly we are baptized into.

He mentions how baptism is appropriately tied up with the Church. It's the entrance and integration into the Church. Well, what have we affirmed about the Church so far in our study? What is the Church in its full cosmic significance? It is the sacrament of the world, the means by which God is reclaiming fallen humanity and by which the world and time is being returned to the purpose for which it was created, to be a means of communion with God. When we are baptized, then, we are caught up in everything great, awesome, holy, and redemptive that God is doing in the world.

I just wondered if you all noticed that funny little word on the first paragraph of 68, it's kind of a made up word but it's important when we're talking about the Church. "Ecclesiolatry"- "thinking of the Church as a 'being in itself;' not thinking of the Church as the new relation of God, humanity, and the world; thinking of the Church as Savior rather than of Christ as Savior of the world and humanity through the Church." We need to be careful; I've come close a couple of times to going over this line, but we need to be careful not to blur the line between the human and the Divine. Remember what I said in the Orthodox tradition about the statement, "I have become God." Sometimes you'll hear something like that. That's a relative statement. If one meant that literally, that'd be blasphemy, but what an Orthodox would mean by that is simply that he or she is united with Christ, that this person is one with Jesus. Though this "I have become God" business is a really radical way of saying that, we kind of have the same idea in one of our metaphors for the Church. What's the metaphor we used when talking about the Church during our discussion of the Eucharist? The Body of Christ. As the Church, our connection to Jesus is so strong that He is our Head and we are called the parts of His Body. There are a couple of things I want to note about this. The first thing is that, as the Church, we are instruments in the hands of Jesus. He works in us and through us. This means that we should regard our corporate actions as the Church as those of Jesus. The second thing is that the Church is united with Jesus. If baptism incorporates us into Christ's Body, and if Christ's Body is united with Christ the Head, then what does baptism do? Baptism unites us with Christ. And put emphasis on the us, we are united with Christ together, not one by one. Our salvation is corporate.

I don't want to stay long on this issue; I don't want to narrow the discussion on baptism to matters of the salvation of the individual soul, but we need to have a brief talk about the Reformed view or views of baptism and its relation to individual salvation. As a former Baptist, my understanding of salvation had a very revivalistic tone to it. I'm still very much of an evangelical in the sense that I think in our natural state, we are dead in our sins and so need God's redeeming action in order to be saved, but I do not think that there should be a certain type of religious experience that people have to have before they are to be considered "saved." You must be born again, but that doesn't mean that you have to have a definite conversion experience. I've undergone a bit of a spiritual pilgrimage from where I once was, and in the course of that pilgrimage, I have come to see baptism as not just a symbol of being "born again" but as being itself an important part of the way that God washes our sins away and gives us spiritual life. I can now confidently affirm in Peter's words that "baptism now saves you." What do you guys think? Does baptism save us?

I did my reading from several sources in the Reformed tradition the other night to confirm that I didn't just dream it up, and, yeah, this view has a lot of support historically in Reformed and Presbyterian theology. It depends on who you read, though. Calvin, Francis Turretin, most of the Westminster Divines, the Mercersburg theologians Philip Schaff and John Nevin, the great Dutch Calvinist theologian Abraham Kuyper, and contemporaries like Peter Leithart and his "Federal Vision" friends have maintained the biblical teaching on baptism. Unfortunately, most Presbyterians are strangers to their own tradition and are more likely to Gnosticize baptism away according to the fashion of the Swiss Reformer, Ulrich Zwingli, the Princeton theologians Charles Hodge and B. B. Warfield, and contemporary mainstream evangelical Presbyterians like R.C. Sproul. What many of these folks would sneer at and call heresy in regard to baptism is really historic Calvinist orthodoxy and the teaching of Scripture and the ancient tradition of the Church. Though you might find it surprising, the Westminster Confession and the catechisms affirm God's saving action in baptism. For instance, take this from the Westminster Shorter Catechism:

Q. 91. How do the sacraments become effectual means of salvation?
A. The sacraments become effectual means of salvation, not from any virtue in them, or in him that doth administer them; but only by the blessing of Christ, and the working of his Spirit in them that by faith receive them.

Q. 94. What is baptism?
A. Baptism is a sacrament, wherein the washing with water in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, doth signify and seal our ingrafting into Christ, and partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace, and our engagement to be the Lord’s.

Let's also consider 1 Peter 3:21: "And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ." Now, we can't just use this as a proof text; we have to be much more sophisticated in our scriptural exegesis than just to pick passages pell-mell from the Bible to support our doctrinal positions. We have to look at the context of this passage. Peter is speaking of how Noah and his family were saved through the waters of the flood, which prefigures baptism. Just as Noah and his family passed through the waters in the ark and were saved, so are those in the Church saved by passing through the waters of baptism. Notice how baptism doesn't work like "a removal of dirt from the body" but "as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ." We appeal to God, but God is the prime actor in baptism. It is He who saves us through baptism and not the waters themselves.

This even goes for little children who cannot yet confess their faith. The French Reformed Church baptismal liturgy says it this way:

“Little child, for you Jesus Christ has come, he has fought, he has suffered. For you he entered into the shadows of Gethsemane and the terror of Calvary; for you he uttered the cry ‘it is finished.’ For you he rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, and there for you he intercedes. For you, even though you do not yet know it, little child, but in this way the Word of the Gospel is made true, ‘We love him because he first loved us.’”

Of course, we must affirm that God can and does save without baptism. Calvin says this in the Institutes: "We must utterly reject the fiction of those who consign all the unbaptized to eternal death. . . . Baptism is not so necessary that one from whom the capacity to obtain it has been taken away should straightway be counted as lost."

We must also keep in mind that baptism inaugurates us into what is a conditional covenant. It is not guaranteed that all of those who were baptized will persevere and be finally saved. People must have faith in Jesus and persevere in that faith or they will forfeit the benefit of their baptism. There is definitely the idea in Reformed thought that our relationship with God must grow as we do. Baptized children are definitely "saved," at least for the time being, but a small child's faith in Jesus must grow. Faith must be age-appropriate if we are to affirm that it is saving faith.

There is also the fact that God gives many ways of nurturing the seed of regeneration that is sown in our hearts. Baptism can plant that seed, or it can water that seed if that seed has already been planted in our hearts by the Word. The other means of grace are required to make sure that the seed of grace, regardless of how it initially got planted, flourishes and does not wither; that it blooms into the fullness of grace and perseverance. To assure that the seed reaches the end of lasting justification, it must be watered by Scripture, by preaching, by prayer, and by taking the Lord's Supper.

Well, I need to get us back on track. On 68 and 69, Schmemann talks about how much of the life of the Church arose surrounding the baptismal rite and also how the Church finds much of its meaning and significance in baptism. Baptism delivers us from slavery to sin and evil and puts us into a cosmic fight against evil. He talks about the exorcisms that are part of the Orthodox rite. The paragraph that starts on 69 and goes over on to 70 really grabs me. Does the idea of real evil, especially real personal evil, belong in our modern thought? Can those of us who use electricity get ready for the idea of demonology? Schmemann makes reference to the Holocaust, that a civilized nation "used electricity" to murder 6 million people, and, during the time that he wrote this, the Soviet Union had a vast system of prisons and work camps holding tens of millions of people going; he says that in a world where these things go on, "demonic" reality is not a myth. This is what we're up against:

"It is this reality that the Church has in mind . . . when at the moment of baptism, through the hands of the priest, it lays hold upon a new human being who has just entered life, and who, according to statistics, has a great likelihood someday of entering a mental institution, a penitentiary, or at best, the maddening boredom of a universal suburbia. The world from which the human being has received his life, and which will determine this life, is a prison."

This is why the Bible says we must be born again, or born from above, so that we can begin to be freed from the prison that sin has made of the fallen world. Well, there is a society in our world that has been born from above and to which we can flee from the evil and the banality of the fallen world. The good news is that "the Church knows that the gates of this hell have been broken and that another Power has entered the world and claimed it for its true Owner. And that claim is not on souls alone, but on the totality of life, on the whole world."

Baptism brings us into the battle against evil on the winning side. It's not just against fear, frustration, and anxiety we are fighting. It is for the destiny of the world and humanity that we are fighting. It's not comfortable and pleasing, but we are called to war, and that requires discipline. That's why at baptism, we renounce the devil and all of his ways and we confess the Lord Jesus, bowing before the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He says something interesting on the bottom of 71 and 72 about it being hard "to convince modern Christians that to be the life of the world, the Church must not 'keep smiling' at the world, putting the 'All Welcome' signs on the churches and adjusting its language to that of the latest bestseller." Is this how it should be, or do we need to risk becoming unpopular so that we can stay true to our mission?

From baptism so far, then, we've learned that the Church is the society of liberation from evil and that it is a warrior society against evil in all of its forms. When we stop to consider the significance of the water, though, we see that the Church is not just a spiritual solution to the problem of evil in the fallen world, but, that through the Church, the physical world too is caught up in God's plan of redemption. Through the Church, the material world is being returned to the purpose for which it was created, to be a means of communion with God. Just like the bread and wine of the Eucharist, the water of baptism represents the whole world, which we offer to God and he returns to us as the instrumental means of our life in Him.

As we've talked about ad nauseum, there are certain worldviews that have a problem with this kind of stuff. It sounds impractical; it sounds magical that God would use things to save us. This kind of thought is reflected in the Baptist view of baptism; I don't think it's for any biblical reason that they don't believe baptism saves but because of that darned dualism we keep running into; spirit is spirit and matter is matter; they don't really have any relationship to each other; we need to keep them separate. Schmemann talks about the "demythologizers" who have a hard time with this kind of stuff too, the "spooky stuff," as one of my Religious Studies professors would call it. I really think it's a failure of imagination on their part. Life is just so much more interesting and exciting when reality points beyond itself to something bigger and better, when we think about things in a cosmic perspective. Otherwise, as Schmemann has been showing us all along, things as ends in themselves only just end up in death.

There are several important meanings for water in the biblical worldview. What does water represent? Life- there is no life without water, just as we have no spiritual life without God's Spirit. This is why the Bible says we must be born of water and Spirit. Water also means cleansing and purifying. It's the most powerful solvent and cleaner on the planet. What else would God use to wash away our guilty stains and carve a place for himself in our rock-hard hearts? Water also means death and destruction. The water of baptism indicates that we die with Christ, that we are "baptized into His death." We die to sin, to death, to ourselves. And it is in this death to self that we find life, because it is only in sharing God's gifts with Him and with others that we find the meaning of life. After all, it is because Jesus surrendered His life for us to His Father that He lives again and that we live again in Him. Water also means chaos, the disorganized stuff out of which God creates something new. Remember the Creation story, how God "moved over the face of the waters" and how He liberated the dry land from the waters. In the same way, in our descent into the baptismal waters, God remakes us into a new creation, where old things are gone and all is clean and brand-new again. As St. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:17-18, "If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold the new has come." This is what the Orthodox symbolize when they clothe a newly baptized person in a white robe.

Schmemann next moves on in this chapter to talk about the sacraments of confirmation, or what they call chrismation, and penance. As Presbyterians we don't have these two sacraments. We do something called confirmation but we don't consider it a sacrament. Nor do we consider penance a sacrament. We have something like penance that's called absolution but that's not a sacrament. Even though I disagree with the Orthodox on these two things, I think Schmemann is correct to treat confirmation and penance in their connections to baptism. As Presbyterians, we can follow him here in his discussion, but we should apply everything he says about these two things directly to baptism itself. He speaks about chrismation as the fulfillment of baptism, its "confirmation" by the Holy Spirit. The Reformed tradition would say that baptism itself is the "confirmation" of God's forgiveness toward us and that we receive the Holy Spirit in baptism itself. This is where the language in the Westminster Shorter Catechism of baptism as "sign and seal" of our "ingrafting into Christ," our "partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace," and "our engagement to be the Lord's" comes into play. Baptism is the "confirmation" and "seal" of our forgiveness. We also see the confirming presence of the Holy Spirit in Jesus' baptism,

Matthew 3:16-17: "And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’"

I've also got 1 Corinthians 12:13: "by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free."

Now, what we call confirmation, when young people learn the catechism and make profession of faith to assume full membership, is not the same as what Schmemann is calling confirmation. For the Orthodox, confirmation is when they anoint a newly baptized person with oil, that's why it's also called chrismation, the baptizand is anointed with chrism. We do that too as part of the baptism rite but it isn't considered a distinct sacrament the way it is in Roman Catholicism and, to a lesser extent, in Eastern Orthodoxy. But, the application of the oil is significant. It indicates that we have received the Holy Spirit and that God has commissioned, anointed us, if you will, for Kingdom work. Notice how this doesn't just apply to the soul but to the whole person. It sounds like the Orthodox basically cover a person with oil from head to toe to symbolize the fact that the Holy Spirit touches and transforms every part of our lives. Schmemann talks about how in this commissioning by the Spirit, we truly become ourselves. We truly become what God from all of eternity intended us to be. We don't have to take up a cookie-cutter "good Christian" role but we get to be who we truly are. The Spirit frees us from all need to pretend. How often do we fail to live in this kind of freedom when the Spirit freely offers us such fullness. Where the Spirit is, there's freedom.

And finally, we come to penance. There is a problem with this doctrine, I think. Schmemann mentioned how in a certain theological tradition baptism has been limited to removing Original Sin. Well, I'm not sure if that's the Orthodox position, but the Roman Catholic Church teaches that in baptism God only forgives Original Sin and any sins we committed before baptism but that the sacrament of penance is required to deal with all the sins we commit after baptism. John Calvin and the Reformers had something else to say, though, and I think it was the biblical teaching on post-baptismal sin. Calvin said:

"We must realize that at whatever time we are baptized, we are once for all washed and purged for our whole life. Therefore, as often as we fall away, we ought to recall the memory of our baptism and fortify our mind with it, that we may always be sure and confident of the forgiveness of sins. For, though baptism, administered only once, seemed to have passed, it was still not destroyed by subsequent sins. For Christ’s purity has been offered us in it; his purity ever flourishes; it is defiled by no spots, but buries and cleanses away all our defilements."

Sin isn't dead in us, but, as often as we sin, we can remember our baptism and know that God forgives us.

This isn't permission though because baptism means that we've been given the gift of the Holy Spirit and the Spirit won't let us comfortably go on sinning. Schmemann talks about the Christians on 78 and 79 who have dramatic, revivalistic conversion experiences and never know what it is after that to feel the sadness of being a sinner. Well, if that's their experience when it comes to post-conversion sin, then they ain't the real deal. I think we can affirm that we should be confident that God loves us and that he has saved us, but, we also need to always have that sense of sorrow for sin and of hungering and thirsting for righteousness. I believe it was Martin Luther who said that a Christian is always aware of three things: "A Christian is always sinning; a Christian is always repenting; and a Christian is always forgiven." When we sin, let us always run back to the baptismal fount. We were washed and forgiven once and for all there and the life that we were given there always enables us to do better and will one day deliver us into God's presence without spot or blemish.

To remind us of this, we have a word of absolution in our weekly liturgy after our corporate confession of sin. When we hear that word of absolution on the Lord's Day, the baptized can count it as the Lord's word and so be sure that it is true. I believe we also have absolution in the context of pastoral counseling, where the pastor can declare a personal word of absolution. And this is not a new word; it is simply a restatement of the message that we first heard in baptism: "My child, your sins are forgiven."

Sunday, February 1, 2009

The Sacraments Revisited

I have not written exclusively or specifically on the sacraments for a little while now, but I'm not done treating the subject in depth. So far, I have written three installments about reclaiming the sacraments for evangelicals. In the process, I have challenged philosophical and theological assumptions that undermine right views of the sacraments, described in brief the sacraments' relation to ecclesiology, exposited Scriptures related to baptism, surveyed various orthodox views of baptism, and given the question of the Lord's Supper a biblical and scholarly treatment from a classically Reformed point of view. I have yet to survey the various orthodox views of the Supper, or, to discuss the broad implications of recovering a sacramental theology.

Before taking up these tasks, I think a little revision is in order when it comes to what I have already written on this subject. The things I had written before are by no means mature thoughts on the sacraments and their implications for the Church and the entire Christian life. They represent my earliest wranglings with these kinds of ideas. I've read and thought more extensively since then. Also, I've learned that doing theology is a constant balancing act. Here are some needed counterweights to my earlier thoughts.

First corrective: In a way that smacks of both medieval scholasticism and the more recent Enlightenment and Age of Reason-inspired evangelical Protestant scholasticism, I described salvation or grace (justification, sanctification, etc.) as a sort of commodity that is distributed by the Church. When we conceive of salvation in this sense, I think we are missing the point. Salvation is relational; it is none other than Christ we seek.

Second corrective: Also in reference to my previous point, commodifying salvation and thinking of the Church as some sort of salvation-dispensing machine diminish the overarching significance of the person of Jesus Christ. We should think of salvation, not as something that is abstracted from Christ and then applied to us, but as nothing more or less than the abiding personal presence of Jesus Christ in and with the believer. Similarly, we should not think of the Church as something antecedent to or separable from the person of Jesus Christ. We should think of the Church in terms of the Augustinian concept of totus Christus and the Eastern Orthodox idea of perichoresis.

The reality of totus Christus is the reality of Christ as the Head in heaven at the right hand of the Father united to the Church—His very own Body—on earth (see Ephesians 5). In other words, Christ is composed of both Christ our Head and we His Body. Therefore, we can say that whenever the Body acts in obedience to its Head, its actions are none other than the actions of Jesus Himself.

When I speak of perichoresis, I am speaking of the sense in which the Persons of the Trinity mutually indwell and interpenetrate one another. Through the Holy Spirit, we as the Body of Christ are taken up into this union the Persons of the Trinity share with one another. As a result, Christ is in us and we are in Christ. Christ is in us individually because we are in Him corporately as the Church.

The point is that neither the Church nor salvation can be theologically separated from Christ. Salvation is right relationship with Christ, embodied in the Church. The Church is salvation. The sacraments are instrumental in our salvation in that baptism incorporates us into Christ's Body and the Lord's Supper continuously renews our union with Christ and His Body.

Third corrective: The sacraments are not means of grace. Again, we are dealing with the problem of thinking of salvation as some sort of commodity. Grace is not some kind of ether that is abstracted from God and distributed. Grace is Christ Himself and the abundant mercy He shows to sinners. A better way to speak of the sacraments is as means of union with Christ.

Fourth corrective: The sacraments are not primarily visible words. This raises the specter of Zwinglian or Baptist memorialism and the worst abuses of medieval sacramental practice. The sacraments do not find their primary use or efficacy in visible demonstration. We certainly cannot neglect the symbolic significance of the sacraments, but we must understand that they are first and foremost performative actions. They are rituals. Preaching Christ's death, burial, and resurrection is more instructive than demonstrating the Gospel through baptism or the Eucharist, hence the reason why those who hold to memorialist views of the sacraments are often prone to neglect their practice.

Baptism is participation in the Gospel through repentance and the objective application of Christ's death and resurrection to us. The Lord's Supper is a participation in the Body and Blood of Christ through eating. It is a meal that embodies the humility and service to one another that are central to the ethic of Christ's Body and it anticipates the full realization of the Kingdom of God at Christ's return.

Certainly, God appeals to our senses in the sacraments but not just to our sense of sight. He appeals to our sense of hearing in that we hear the Word of God in baptismal and Eucharistic liturgies, the shuffling of feet in Communion lines, the sloshing of water, the clinking of cups and plates. God appeals to our sense of smell with the aroma of bread and wine. He appeals to our sense of touch with water, the passing of plates, the handling of pieces of bread and the cup. God appeals to our sense of taste with the Bread of Life and the fruit of the vine through which we truly taste and see that the Lord is good. And he appeals to our corporate human existence and experience by baptizing us into Himself before a great cloud of witnesses, by coming to be present with His Church at His Table, and by feeding us with His flesh and blood.

Fifth corrective: I followed the time honored practice of using a "zoom lens" to think about the sacraments. Discussions of baptism are almost always about what the water does or does not do to the baptizand, while discussions of the Lord's Supper are almost always about what does or does not happen to the bread and the wine. Also, we notice that the focus in discussions of the sacraments is often exclusively on their effects on individuals. Rarely do we consider how the sacraments work to establish and maintain the society of the Church.

As an alternative, Peter Leithart proposes a "wide-angle lens" view in discussing the significance of the sacraments, particularly the Eucharist. Here is what a wide-angle lens view of the Eucharist offers as opposed to the traditional zoom lens view:

Instead of attending only to bread and wine on a table, we see people and they are doing things. They are not simply observing the elements but passing them from hand-to-hand, sharing them, eating and drinking them. Words are being spoken. In most churches, one or a few members of the congregation stand nearer the "elements," while the rest sit, stand, or kneel at a greater distance, revealing a hierarchy of some kind. Through the zoom lens, the Eucharist is presented as a miraculous puzzle of physics or metaphysics; through a wide-angle lens, the Eucharist becomes a focal point for more theologically central issues: the relationships of the church’s members to one another, creation, and God. (Leithart, Blessed Are the Hungry, 156)
This kind of discussion provides a good segue into considering the broad reaching implications of reclaiming a sacramental theology. This preceded by a survey of the various orthodox views of the Supper is the next task in my project of reclaiming the sacraments.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

*For directing me to the concept of totus Christus, I owe Peter Leithart and his wonderful scholarship a debt of gratitude. Discussions with Dustin Lyons, former classmate at Mizzou and current graduate student at St. Vladimir's Seminary in New York City, have been important in directing me toward the theological treasures of Eastern Orthodoxy. Interestingly, Reformed scholars like Leithart have also come to look toward the wisdom of the Eastern Church for guidance in ecclesiological and Christological matters. May the dialogue continue between East and West, Protestant and Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox, Catholic and Orthodox. We have much wisdom to offer one another.*

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Putting the Scandal Back in the Gospel

The Problem

The Gospel is a scandal. It has been since the very beginning of its unfolding in history. The world finds the notion offensive that God called one particular man, Abraham, to be the father of one particular nation, Israel, through whom He intended to bless the whole world. And what a people to choose! An obscure, desert-dwelling, nomadic, tribal people who should have been forgotten in the annals of history.

Yet, even God's own people, Israel, found its particular God to be a scandal. “Why not be like all the other peoples who have many gods? The Divine cannot be exhausted by such a particular One. And what is this that God has a specific name? The gods of the other peoples are known by many names. And this God is such a particular fellow. Why does he demand of us such strict behaviors and mark out such a specific path that we are to follow in order to approach him? Our neighbors have many gods and many ways to get to those gods.”

It was that God should come to them in one specific Man, however, that most scandalized Israel. And such a man! A poor, stinking peasant carpenter of humble parentage from Galilee. "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" Perhaps it would have been easier if Jesus had come in glory as a rich, privileged potentate bearing all the symbols of earthly grandeur, but he didn't. In the words of the popular song from the 90’s, he was "just a slob like one of us. Just a stranger on a bus, trying to make his way home.” And those people he hangs out with! Peasants and prostitutes and tax collectors and the poor and even Gentiles—the riffraff of society.

And of course, he had the same aggravating sense of particularity about himself as the Father he claimed to represent, claiming to be the "I Am," the "Son of God," and "the way and the truth and the life, the only way to the Father.” The worst thing, though, is that he went and got himself killed. “Surely, if he were the Son of God, he would not have been condemned as a criminal, to be put to open shame by such a brutal and humiliating death on a cross of wood.”

Even death, however, could not put to rest the scandal of particularity surrounding Jesus. The rumor began circulating that he rose bodily from the grave and ascended into heaven. His followers began to preach a message that was "a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Greeks" (1 Corinthians 1:23). To Jews, it was a stumbling block because the Apostles asserted that "In him the fullness of the Deity dwells bodily” (Colossians 2:9). The Gentile criticism was twofold. The Gnostics rejected the Apostles’ and Church Fathers' assertions that the God of the Bible, whom they viewed as carnal and bloodthirsty, was the God they approached in their philosophy, that he had created the "evil” material world, that he works in history, and that he had taken on flesh and blood in Jesus of Nazareth. The pagans were offended by the notion that God had acted decisively for the whole world in the singular path of salvation through Jesus.

The objections to the Gospel put forward in Jesus’ and the early Church's day have not changed much. The world still finds the message repugnant that God has acted to bring salvation to sinners through the singular path of Christ's death for our sins and his resurrection for our justification. The objections are basically the following: “It's just too exclusive. There are many paths to God. God cannot possibly be such a particular and choosy God. It's just not fair. God cannot possibly have become one particular man. God could not possibly be angry at me for my sins or condemn me for them. God could not possibly allow an innocent man to die for my sins. They cannot possibly be so bad that he should require such an awful satisfaction for them.”

I do not find the world's objections to be that unreasonable. Should we not expect for the world to object? What I do find strange, however, is that the people today who most visibly and ardently preach the message of salvation in Christ have also fallen prey to the scandal of particularity surrounding the Gospel. The people I am speaking of are ourselves—American Protestant evangelicals. We find the idea blasphemous and offensive that God should continue to use communal, earthly, and particular means to save us. In this we have divorced ourselves from historic Christianity and the faith of the God of the Bible. In our efforts to market the Gospel in an individualistic society and make it palatable and readily available to all, we have conceptually and in far too many cases practically eliminated the earthly, communal, and particular elements that have been so central to historic Judeo-Christian faith and witness.

I am speaking of our rejection of any great theological significance attached to the earthly Church, the social aspect of the Gospel, and the Sacraments. In this rejection, we have made the uniquely historical and communal faith of Christianity an almost entirely ahistorical, individualistic, otherworldly faith that seems to only promise real blessings away from Earth and thus has no bearing on life in the real world. Perhaps this would explain the fact that America is one of the most religious nations on Earth but one of the nations in which religion appears all but irrelevant to the ways people live their lives.

The reality of this can be deceiving. As evangelical Protestants, most of us do not miss historic Christian orthodoxy by much, but the ways in which we subtly and not so subtly miss the mark are important. Of course, we teach that Christians must go to church, that we must meet the needs of "the least of these," that we should be baptized and look forward to Communion as a special time of worship, and that we should have objective certainty of our salvation, but, by our individualistic and radically anti-materialistic theological assumptions and religious practice, we do not allow these things the possibility of being sufficiently realized in the real world. The result is that a wide gulf separates the contemporary American evangelical Church from the historic Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox Church.

For instance, let's consider our understanding of the Church. We accept all the orthodox imagery—the Church as the Body of Christ and the Bride of Christ—but we take it in a direction that is unthinkable in historic Christian orthodoxy. Rather than the Church as a whole being the Body of Christ (Romans 12: 4-5; 1 Corinthians 12:12-27) and the Bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:22-32; Revelation 21:2, 9), we have the individual united directly to Christ as his Bride, not the individual united to the other members of the Body and thereby to the Head and Husband, Jesus Christ (Ephesians 1:22-23; 5:23, 29-30; Colossians 1:18).

These are corporate images. There is no connection to the Head of the Body unless one is united with the other members. We are not brides of Christ individually but one Bride of Christ corporately. This, of course, does not exclude the necessity of having a personal relationship with Jesus, but, it does mean that this relationship must be understood in light of the Christian community. It is only by our incorporation into his Body (his Temple) that each of us is animated by the Holy Spirit and enabled together to be his ongoing physical presence in the world (Ephesians 2:17-22). If we separate ourselves from the Body, we shrivel up and decay just as amputated limbs do when separated from physical bodies.

Theology has practical consequences. A deviation from orthodoxy always results in a deviation from orthopraxy. The loss of a communal emphasis in our theology has meant a loss of community in our churches. Whereas Christ tells us, "By this all men will know you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35), our churches all too often seem to be run-of-the-mill voluntary associations of like-minded individuals, like, for instance, the Elks Club or the Moose Lodge. Instead of a family, “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession” (1 Peter 2:9), members of the same congregation frequently exhibit only the loosest of connections to one another, particularly if they come from different socioeconomic backgrounds.

Due to the alliance that has historically existed between individualized evangelical Calvinism and capitalism, the evangelical church today consists primarily of upwardly mobile middle-class whites and represents their particular interests. With the loss of a theology that emphasizes communal rather than individual election and the real spiritual need that Christians have for one another, private Christians feel no responsibility for the salvation of their brothers and sisters, much less their physical and social needs. Christian charity and love are replaced with Christian civility, or worse, Christian snobbery. The transformative power of the Gospel no longer has the force to break down the barriers that exist between middle-class and working-class Christians, much less between rich and poor, white and black, respectable and not-so respectable, important and not-so important. In our churches today, the Pharisees are warmly embraced, but the kinds of people that Jesus hung out with are far too often only coolly tolerated or outright rejected.

As Philip J. Lee notes in Against the Protestant Gnostics, "What is undeniable is that American Protestantism still accepts and practices a social exclusivism on behalf of the privileged and that the lower strata of society have been psychologically, intellectually, and ethically excluded from the fellowship." So much for "as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40) and "Whoever causes one of my little ones to stumble, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:6; Mark 9:42; Luke 17:2).

For "the least of these," it appears that the opinion of Henry Ward Beecher and his ilk that "churches are largely for the mutual insurance of prosperous families, and not for the upbuilding of the great underclass of humanity” is the norm for evangelical churches. The observation of fellow Boston clergyman Rev. Charles Wood that "the poor are not provided for, nor are they wanted as a part of the congregations which worship in the majority of our city churches" is as relevant today as it was in 1874. When sincere Christians from economically or socially disadvantaged backgrounds are rejected by more affluent church members, the result is invariably that they become discouraged in their faith and disillusioned by the hypocrisy of their congregations. Despairing of finding the warm Christian community that is essential for genuine discipleship, many leave the Church altogether, taking their much-needed presence and perspectives with them. When the poor are out of sight in the Church, they all too frequently are out of mind as well.

Nevertheless, evangelical churches do work for the poor. That is undeniable. But the truth is that we do not do enough, and rarely do we welcome with open arms into our churches the individuals we help. Evangelical churches may meet the physical needs of disadvantaged persons on an individual basis and get them to make professions of faith, but, beyond this, only the most superficial attention is paid to their spiritual and social needs.

We see this in evangelical politics as well. Conservative evangelical political action focuses almost exclusively on the improvement of individual morality as the sole source of social change, ignoring the social structures and realities that perpetuate poverty, crime, and addiction. Disadvantaged individuals are entirely responsible for overcoming their difficult circumstances; it is not society or government's place to help facilitate change.

Additionally, the unbalanced otherworldliness that characterizes American evangelical faith means that the physical circumstances of life are devalued. Changing the world for the benefit of embodied human existence is far less important than saving souls. Social justice, the environment, and the building of meaningful and universally satisfying Christian community therefore all take a back seat to evangelism.

Evangelical rejection of the communal, the earthly, and the particular and its deleterious consequences for orthopraxy is also evident in the evangelical rejection of the Sacraments. Baptism and the Lord's Supper have been supremely devalued as means of grace in the name of universalizing and individualizing the offer of salvation in Christ. Subjective experience has become the sole marker of authentic Christian faith, whereas historically the marks of a Christian have been doctrine, discipline, and incorporation into and participation in the Church through the Sacraments. Being a follower of Jesus Christ and having present faith in Jesus for salvation as well as having the objective, communal testimonies to salvation of Church, Bible, baptism, and Eucharist once blunted the existential force of the doctrine of election. Now, however, that the emphasis in evangelicalism has shifted from communal election to individual election and the objective testimonies have been completely replaced by the subjective conversion experience, those unfortunate individuals who do not have the hubristic confidence in their own sincerity at the moment of conversion or in their memories of that experience to dispel all the clouds of doubt bear the full force of the question of their eternal destiny all alone.

Describing the experience of the late Puritans, the first group in North America to take grace out of the Church, Lee writes, "Left with no definite means of grace, no certitude or even comfort, the Protestant individual found the Calvinistic doctrine of election to be a monstrous threat. The sinner was left to the caprice of the infinite God who despises finite means." God had become "a God who refuses to put His heart into His creation and who leaves His creatures alone and without access to Himself." This remains as relevant for today's American evangelical Protestants as it was for our Puritan forebears. Those not given to great emotionality find themselves without God in the world and the Church. They also find themselves without their brothers and sisters in Christ in a loosely associated, purely voluntaristic Church.

The Solution

We must reject the new particularities of the individual, the middle-class, and subjective experience that American evangelical Protestantism has chosen in favor of the particularities of the Church, the poor, and the Sacraments—the particularities that the Bible and the historic witness of the Christian Church call us to embrace. When it comes to re-sanctifying the particularity of the Church, our preaching must move from a pep talk addressed to private Christians who stand alone before God to an edifying message addressed to the members of the Body, who stand shoulder to shoulder before God, encouraging, disciplining, and urging one another on in the Faith. It must not focus on the works of God done purely in individual lives but on the great historic works of God done in plain sight for the Church and the world to behold. Through this type of message, individuals find encouragement not just in what God is doing in their own lives but in what God is doing in the lives of others, in the life of the Church, and in the life of the world. The individual has the sense of belonging to something that is bigger than just his or her own life and relationship with God. Not only do we have our Lord Christ to live for but we have our brothers and sisters in Him and the world that needs his message to live for.

Our preaching and teaching must also emphasize the fact that the flesh and blood gathering together of believers has great theological significance. We must speak more about how Christ is among us in the Church, working through us to do his work in the world. Going to church and taking the sacraments brings us into communion with Christ and one another in ways that are distinct from the spiritual union believers always have with Christ. In Christ's physical absence, we only meet the Word as he was made flesh in the Church.

In light of the reality of Christ fully formed in his Body, then, individualistic metaphors for the Church must be exchanged for communal metaphors. The Church must no longer be thought of as a mere collection of individuals but as a loving and cohesive family, a tribe, a nation. It must therefore have a patriotism of its own based on its mission. Out of many, the Church is one for the sake of Christ crucified and the sake of seeing his Kingdom reign and rule on Earth as it is in Heaven.

In the Church, the barriers that separate people in the world must be dismantled. The Christian Church is the new humanity, in which "there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28). God-given differences in the Church must then be viewed not as a reason for our separation but as the basis for our union, for "if the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell?" (1 Corinthians 12:17).

As we preach and teach the ideal of the Church as a community formed counter to the principles of the world—a community formed of people the world separates according to race, ethnicity, nationality, language, class, and wealth—we would hope that this ideal would become a reality. However, without diligence and courage this vision will not be realized, for "faith without works is dead" (James 2:17). We must reclaim the Christian Church as a movement of ordinary people—the foolish, the weak, the "low and the despised in the world" (1 Corinthians 1:27-28). Congregations must take special care to welcome the poor, the homeless, the working-class, minorities, the disabled, those who have been in prison, and those struggling with addiction. Churches must follow-up with visitors not in spite of the fact but especially if they come from socioeconomic backgrounds different from the majority of the members in the congregation.

This must be an ongoing ministry. Pastors, elders, deacons, and the laity must be especially diligent in helping to keep members from segments of society especially prone to isolation within congregations connected to the life of the community. Compassionate and caring lay persons must take the initiative to come alongside of individuals who often fall by the wayside, inviting them into their homes and lives and likewise accepting these individuals' invitations into their homes and lives. Establishing fellowship groups of church members from a variety of backgrounds is one practical step that could lead to greater cohesiveness between poor and rich, black, white, Hispanic, and Asian, working-class and middle-class within congregations. These fellowship groups must occur in homes, not in church buildings or at the places of elite society.

The pressure to conform churches to the biblical model of community must continue to be applied from the pulpit, both in a general sense and in response to particular instances of individuals and congregations failing to exemplify real Christian hospitality. Pastors must fearlessly and courageously hold their congregations to task, preaching often, if need be, from hard portions of Scripture, from James' fearless denunciation of favoritism to Jesus' sobering parable of the sheep and goats. Of course, these messages must not be framed in terms of individuals' discipleship but in terms of the spiritual damage done to brothers and sisters in Christ and of bringing reproach upon the name of Christ for all the world to see.

The particularity of the poor must also be focused on by the American evangelical Church in its social action. No longer must evangelical Christian political discourse be framed exclusively in terms of private morality and the protection of the single-family home. The truly pro-life and pro-family agenda is one that not only protects the unborn but is fully committed to seeing life flourish in abundance from womb to tomb. Politically-minded and active evangelicals must take up the fight against poverty in terms of society's responsibility and not exclusively in terms of the individual's. Tax cuts and increased defense spending must be denounced when it means cuts to health care and welfare benefits to children, the elderly, the disabled, and the working poor. Evangelicals must take to task those in Washington and in state capitals who claim to represent their interests but fail to exemplify Christ's Gospel ministry to "the least of these."

American evangelicals must also reclaim the American Protestant tradition of social reform. The work of the abolitionists, the Social Gospellers, the Civil Rights Movement, the Sojourners network, and the emerging church must be brought to fruition. White middle-class evangelical Protestants must give up a good deal of the privilege they have traditionally held in education and employment for the sake of their African-American and Hispanic compatriots and brothers and sisters by supporting affirmative action programs and urban renewal projects. American evangelicals should be at the forefront of efforts to establish a fair policy on immigration, embracing all people in Christian love who have come to our country for the sake of liberty and economic opportunity. Furthermore, evangelicals must be more charitable and gracious to the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered community, promoting their full civil rights while yet striving to maintain biblical morality and the traditional definition of marriage.

In regard to the social mission of the American evangelical Church, the particularity of America and the American way of life must be moderated by genuine concern for the rest of the world. America is not the world's last best hope but the Kingdom of God as it is already being expressed in the Church of Jesus Christ. No longer must particularly American economic interests be advanced to the detriment of the economic interests of the Third World. The only good trade is fair trade. America must quit playing the hypocrite when it comes to international debt. In light of our own fiscal crisis, we must forgive Third World debt. We must also step up our global efforts to fight AIDS, poverty, and hunger. Considering that the U.S. is responsible for producing the greatest amount of greenhouse gases and carbon emissions, the United States must take the lead in combating global warming. We must not sacrifice the ecological future of the world to our appetite for oil and money. Finally, America must seek an increasingly demilitarized foreign-policy, seeking diplomatic solutions to international issues and abandoning policies of preemptive strike. We must also eschew the use of torture in interrogating terror suspects. The American evangelical Church has been silent long enough on these issues. We must step to the forefront in helping to steer our nation in the right direction when it comes to our relations with the rest of the world.

Finally, we must grapple with the consequences of the Incarnation, embracing the logical conclusion of Jesus Christ taking on flesh, his ongoing redemption of the whole of creation and human life, and of his working out of that redemption through the Holy Spirit-empowered flesh of the Church. That conclusion is that God continues to use finite means to communicate his infinite love and grace to us. If this sounds strange, we must consider that the words and speech that we use to convey the propositional truths of the Gospel and Holy Scripture are things as well. In some sense, even the unfailing message of the Bible and the Gospel is a humiliation of infinite, spiritual truth because it is communicated through the limited “earthen vessels" of language—both the written word and speech—and of thought. We must therefore put aside our superstitious Protestant fear of things and embrace the Sacraments of baptism and the Lord's Supper as finite means of grace. We should listen to the good British common sense of C. S. Lewis on this matter:
There is no good trying to be more spiritual than God. God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses material things like bread and wine [and water] to put the new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: He invented eating. He likes matter. He invented it.
The first thing we must do to reclaim the Sacraments is to get our teaching on them right. Baptism and the Lord's Supper are a sharing in the cross of Christ, in his body and blood. They work and we need them. We need baptism once and only once and Christ's Supper often.

Early in the book of Acts, the Jerusalem church is shown taking Communion daily (Acts 2:42, 46). According to the normative instructions Paul gives us in 1 Corinthians, the Supper is a weekly celebration. In that light, all of us must begin to celebrate it more often. Four times a year is simply not consistent with Christ's command that we continually "feed” on his flesh and blood (John 6:53-56) or with the Reformers' efforts to reclaim the cup for the laity. (It is ironic that Luther and Calvin's spiritual children have now taken both cup and bread from the laity by having Communion so infrequently.) If we wish to see the full effectiveness and value of this sacrament restored in our contemporary thought and practice, nothing less than a weekly celebration will do.

And in this weekly celebration, we must do away with unbreadly bread and unwinely wine. How can this sacrament help us make Christ more relevant to our everyday lives if it is nothing like the food and drink we share at our own tables? On this note, we should also bring back the love feasts of the ancient Church. Taking the Supper in the context of a real meal shared by everyone in church communities would do a great deal to strengthen the communal bond in churches and emphasize the necessity of fellowship in the Body of Christ. Furthermore, in accordance with the Protestant understanding of the priesthood of the believer, I see no reason why families cannot share the Supper in their own homes, especially if their churches will not give it to them but on rare occasions. Furthermore, we must pay great attention to the ministry of the Supper to the elderly and the sick. We must share Christ with those whom it would be easy for us to forget.

I do not wish to wade into the controversies surrounding baptism, but our contemporary practice of this sacrament must change as well. Baptisms must begin to be viewed as crowning moments in the lives of local churches—events that are not merely symbolic but that have real spiritual significance for their participants. We should also use lots of water, and, with rare exceptions, baptism must occur in communal contexts before a "great cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1). Re-baptisms must be neglected altogether because baptism is a gift from Christ and not a work we must do to please God.

Let us reclaim the scandal of the Gospel. Our Lord deigned to become one of us, thereby sanctifying human life and all of creation. Jesus continues to make his incarnational presence known to us through his Body—the Church, through the poor and downtrodden he bids us care for, and through the Sacraments. A Christianity that once again values the particularities of life as God's people, God's works in history, of embodied existence, and of the humble things in the world cannot help but put us right where we need to be—a place where our feet are planted firmly on the ground and our eyes are fixed heavenward.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Reclaiming the Sacramental (Part 2)

The God we as Christians serve is a Living Mystery who surprises us more and more the longer we follow him. The strangest thing about God is that as we come to know him in deeper and ever more profound ways, the more we grow in the realization of how very little we actually know about him. The distinction I want to highlight here is between that of the relational knowledge of God and the intellectual knowledge of him. One would naturally think that these two things exist in a direct relationship—that as one grows the other does as well—but this is precisely the opposite of the way things work. The more we know God, the less we realize that we "know" about him. Believers in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and the Father of Jesus Christ have long testified to the ways in which God transcends our understanding and is thus in a very real sense unknowable to our very limited and finite human minds. This sense of mystery stands out particularly strong in the writings of the Hebrew prophet Isaiah: "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares Yahweh. 9'For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" (55:8-9).

In the Christian faith tradition, most notably in its Orthodox and Catholic varieties, one way of sounding Isaiah's theme has been through the negation of positive properties of God. This is called the apophatic way. The apophatic way is designed to bust our idols by clearly defining what God is not. It guards against the danger inherent in all speech about God, which is that of literally conceiving of God in creaturely terms. For instance, while speaking of God as Father is authorized by Christ's use of the term, calling God "Father" can become idolatrous if we conceive of God as a literal father. In order to keep us from doing so, the apophatic way would be to detail how God is not at all like a father. The purpose of this initial negation of the concept of God as Heavenly Father would be to arrive at an understanding of God as Heavenly Father that does not in any way diminish his glory or ascribe to him any similarity to created things. The apophatic way, then, shows us that God is Father in a way that nothing else in the universe can possibly be. Perhaps no group of Christian thinkers excelled in the expression of the apophatic way as did the great 14th-century Rhineland mystics, Meister Eckhart and his brilliant students Johannes Tauler and Henry Suso. The most shocking apophatic statement comes from Eckhart, who provocatively declares, "God is neither good nor better nor best of all. Whoever would say that God is good would be treating him as unjustly as he were calling the sun black." Of course, Eckhart is not denying the goodness of God here but showing how God transcends all of our conceptions of what goodness is. God is good in a way that we never can be and in a way that we never could have been, even if we had never fallen into sin.

In our ways of thinking about God, we must constantly guard against the impulse to reduce God from the Living Presence he is to a rigidly and easily defined set of propositions. The Angelic Doctor Thomas Aquinas famously said, "If anyone claims to have understood God, then what one has understood is not God." I think these ancient words of St. Thomas have a prophetic significance for contemporary American evangelicals when it comes to our understanding of the way God works in the world, particularly in regard to the rites of baptism and the Lord's Supper. Most evangelicals, to use the words of Leonard Vander Zee, deny the ability of material objects, including and especially the sacraments, "to carry the freight of spiritual reality." Though the Reformation is 500 years in the past, to many Protestants the idea of sacraments raises the full specter of the abusive medieval Roman Catholic sacerdotalism against which Luther and Calvin railed as if it were a present reality threatening the integrity of the Christian faith. "Protestant horror" is an appropriate term for this reaction. This Protestant suspicion of all things that sound remotely Catholic arises, I believe, not from a sola scriptura reliance on the explicit teachings of the Bible or from a religious climate like that of the 16th century but a spirit-matter dualism that is more characteristic of Enlightenment rationalism than the Spirit-led theological premises that informed the Apostles' writing of the New Testament. It is more characteristic of the modern mindset to systematize knowledge and reduce it to its lowest common denominator, such as the philosophically simple distinction between spirit and matter, than it was in the first-century Judeo-Christian mind. Whereas we as early 21st-century American evangelicals view the mystery associated with a messy theology that does not radically separate spirit from matter as a problem that must be solved, the Jewish writers of the New Testament embraced a spiritual God who repeatedly humbled himself and used visible, tangible signs, symbols, and personal invasions into history in order to relate to human beings. The God of Israel repeatedly revealed himself in the natural world, speaking to Moses through the flames of the burning bush, guiding the children of Israel in the Exodus in the form of the pillar of smoke in the daytime and the pillar of fire at night, and, most dramatically, becoming one of us in his Incarnation as Jesus of Nazareth. When we deny the possibility that God continues to relate to his people through the elements of this world, we are thus taking a departure from the view of God presented in the Bible.

While our philosophical inheritance from the Age of Reason and modern life may be fundamental to mainstream evangelicalism's rejection of the sacraments, we cannot just dismiss the theological objections and questions that the sacraments raise for evangelicals. In my last posting, some of the ideas I put forward were undoubtedly shocking to many of you. In fact, some of you have expressed alarm at the dangerous ideas I put forward, particularly my foray into ecclesiology, with the direct correlation I made between salvation and the Church and between Christ and the Church. Also, I made some remarks that appeared to denigrate the reality that we are saved by faith alone and that, at face value, seem to make salvation primarily a sacramental affair. I will take this opportunity to moderate some of those remarks, which, upon further reflection, I must admit were put forward with somewhat less nuance than they should have been. Let me first take up the question of the Church's role in salvation.

The most shocking statement I made was that "the Church opens the gates to heaven in some sense through the sacraments of salvation it administers." This statement seems to imply that the Church and the sacraments by themselves can save us, or, inversely, that without the Church and the sacraments we cannot be saved. I too reject the idea that the Church and the sacraments by themselves can save us or that we cannot be saved without them, as would, incidentally, most Catholics. If we personally reject Jesus Christ, the Church and the sacraments can do nothing for us. If, by faith, however, we are in Christ, no power of the Church can separate us from him. Though the Catholic Church would explain this in different terms than I would, consistent with the Reformed tradition, I would say that the Church and the sacraments contribute to our salvation in the sense that they augment and strengthen the faith through which Jesus saves us. In other words, the sacraments strengthen the influence of the Christ event in our lives. They sign and seal our salvation by powerfully and experientially conferring God's promises on us. In the unusual situation in which the sacraments are not available, however, the promises of God's Word remain true, albeit without the additional assurances that the sacraments alone can provide.

I also mentioned how I do not find the teachings of the Catholic Church about its role in salvation to be substantially wrong but object only to the degree to which it understands this role. I stand by that statement. We must realize that this is not the 16th century and that the Roman Catholic Church has done much to address the abuses that led to the Reformation. While many of the popes and spiritual leaders of the Middle Ages were corrupt and abused their spiritual authority for political and material gain, it is undeniable that recent popes, notably John Paul II, and the current Pope, Benedict XVI, are holy men who deeply love Jesus Christ and are earnest and sincere in shepherding the flock. No longer are indulgences and promises of salvation aggressively marketed to poor peasants for the purposes of filling the Vatican's coffers and no longer does the hierarchy of the Church use the threat of excommunication as a political weapon. Furthermore, in spite of the sex abuse scandal, for which the Vatican is truly beginning to express godly repentance, the vast majority of priests are holy and faithful men who love the Lord deeply. That being said, however, I cannot affirm the Catholic teaching that the Church directly and exclusively administers salvation to the faithful through the priesthood. For me, this places too much stress on the Church's role in salvation and makes God's grace too dependent on human mediators. I do not deny that the Church has some bearing on our salvation but only object to the extent to which this is expressed in Roman Catholicism.

This brings us to another question. I mentioned the connection between the Church and Christ. How is Christ present in the Church? Is he first and foremost present through a professional priesthood that can be identified directly with him, or, do we envision Christ's presence in the Church in a more organic sense? As a Protestant, I must choose the latter and affirm the priesthood of all believers. Though my ecclesiology is quite high for an evangelical (high Church evangelical is an oxymoron if ever there was one!), I cannot identify Christ's presence in the Church with a professional clergy. However, I enthusiastically affirm that Christ is present in his assembled body in a more excellent way than he is in each Spirit-filled Christian individually. Jesus affirms this, when he promises in Matthew 18:18-20:
Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. 19Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. 20For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.
Though we cannot say that the Church is Christ and that Christ is the Church (Jesus is locally present only at the right hand of the Father in heaven), we clearly see that the Church has great spiritual power and authority because Christ is among his people when his body is assembled. When we encounter the Church, we are encountering the living Christ powerfully present. Conversely, then, when we reject the Church and the sacraments, we are rejecting the Head of the body, Christ. As a result, we can say that in a real sense we are incorporated into Christ through our incorporation into his body by the sacraments and that we are cut off from him through our dismemberment from his body. That is why the author of Hebrews is so insistent that Christians do not forsake the regular gathering together of believers. It is hazardous to our spiritual health to do so.

Finally, how can we reconcile the saving significance of the sacraments with the Protestant tenant of salvation by grace alone through faith alone when the sacraments involve physical things and actions? This was a difficult question for Luther and Calvin to answer, but our importation of a modernist dualism that radically separates spirit from matter complexifies this question to an even further degree. How we read this into the Christian life of faith is most evident in our interpretation of Jesus' words in John 4:24: "God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth." Protestants, particularly evangelicals, have long used this verse as a proof text to argue against all forms of ritualized worship. True worship is that which occurs in the heart and the head; therefore, ritual actions and ritual objects cannot carry the weight of spiritual reality and are thus unnecessary, if not harmful, to true worship. A look at the context of the passage in which Jesus speaks these words and a discussion of the historical context of the Reformation will introduce needed balance to our understanding of these words.

The biblical context of this verse is Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. We must note that this interaction is unusual because of the animosity between Jews and Samaritans that existed at this time. The Samaritans were the descendents of those Hebrews in the northern kingdom of Israel who were not deported by the Assyrians when Israel fell in the eighth century B.C. Recall that when Judah and Israel divided after the reign of Solomon, Israel set up a temple in Bethel to rival Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem in order to sever the religious connection between the northern tribes and their kinsman in the South. The religion of Israel centered in the temple at Bethel combined elements of monotheistic Judaism with the pantheism of the local Canaanite peoples. The Hebrews who remained in northern Palestine after the Assyrian deportation intermarried with these Canaanite peoples and, in time, became indistinguishable from them, resulting in the rise of a distinct ethnic group called the Samaritans. The animosity that existed between first-century Jews and their Samaritan cousins was thus based not just on race or ethnic identity but also on religious grounds. In the course of Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman, she brings up the differences between Samaritan religious practice and that of the Jews. She says, "Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where we ought to worship" (v. 20). When Jesus responds that the day is coming when God's worshipers will worship neither in Bethel nor in Jerusalem but rather in spirit and truth, on the one hand, he is speaking to the pantheistic impulse to identify God directly with a physical location that the woman's words indicate, while, on the other hand, he is also speaking to the Jewish understanding of God's exclusive relationship with the physical descendents of Abraham (v. 21-24). By reaching out to a pagan half-breed Gentile woman, Jesus is showing us that the new covenant is not limited to one specific ethnic group or to a particular region of holy geography. The Messiah has come to claim for the Father worshipers from all peoples, nations, and places who will worship him in spirit and truth. This does not mean, however, that this worship is only expressed in an internal and subjective experience. After all, the greatest commandment is to "love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength." This is worship in spirit and truth—a passionate, engaged, embodied (erotic even) spirituality that ardently worships God with all of one's faculties.

"God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth" was an important statement for the Protestant Reformation, not in the sense that the Reformers were rejecting any and all ritualized expressions of worship but in the sense that ritual worship is not to be the sum total of authentic Christian spirituality. The 16th century was a time of ecclesiastical abuse and neglect by the Roman Church. Secular priests were often poorly trained, bishops were often absent from their dioceses, sermons, when provided, were most often in Latin, as was the liturgy of the Word, and promises of the forgiveness of sins and even salvation were exchanged for money through the purchase of indulgences. What the Reformers were reacting to was a spirituality that was mediated exclusively through the Church and that demanded nothing of Christians but loyalty to the Church, yearly confession, and participation in the Mass, which the vast majority of the laity could not understand and in which they were only occasionally given the Eucharistic bread and never the cup. None of the Reformers rejected liturgical worship and, with the exception of Zwingli, all retained a sacramental understanding of baptism and the Eucharist. Furthermore, while Calvin completely rejected transubstantiation, Luther maintained the physical presence of Christ in the bread and wine and did not forbid Christians from accepting transubstantiation as an explanation of how the Lord's Supper works. For the Reformers, ritual and sacramental worship thus remained an important part of authentic Christian spirituality.

The significance of this for our understanding of how the Reformers affirmed the saving significance of baptism and the Lord's Supper while affirming salvation by grace alone through faith alone is that God uses the material substances of water, bread, and wine to confer his promises on us. The Reformers' focus in the sacraments was not on what people do but rather on what God does in the sacraments. God freely offers his grace through baptism and the Eucharist. It is Jesus who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit in baptismal waters. It is Jesus who feeds us with his flesh and his blood when we come to the Lord's Table. Even the verbs we use in talking about baptism and the Lord's Supper testify to this. For instance, we do not baptize ourselves but we are baptized, and though we do eat the bread and do drink the wine, are they not first given to us?

Yet, this is just the problem, that things somehow bring the grace of God to us? Is this not a works salvation because sacraments are bodily received? It is no more a works salvation than the mistaken belief that sincerely praying to receive Christ in and of itself causes us to be saved. Notice something very important about Protestant ideas regarding salvation. We are saved by grace alone through faith alone. It is not faith that is causal of our salvation but grace. Grace is the cause of our salvation, and faith is simply the vehicle through which God confers this grace on us. Faith cannot appropriate salvation from God or it too becomes a meritorious work that we must do to please God—a "spiritual" work but a work nonetheless. In other words, faith does not work upward from us to God. Faith comes down from God to us. It merely enlightens us to the salvation that is already freely given in Christ. Let's look at Ephesians 2:8-9: "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." What is the gift here? Is it salvation or is it faith? It is both. Salvation is freely available to us in Christ; faith opens our eyes to this reality.

We still have not answered the question of how we understand faith, though. What does faith mean? I think the modernist spirit-matter dualism we have imported into our understanding of Christianity has dramatically warped what we mean by the word “faith.” Is it a platonic acceptance of the objective truth of certain propositions, or is it a passionate grasping on to and trust in the promises of God that transforms our lives? The witness of Scripture would clearly direct us to the latter. Faith is not an airy, ethereal, abstract belief in objective facts that have little bearing on our lives. No; faith is a passionate, engaged, embodied subjective experience of the objective reality of God's redemption of us in Christ that makes each of us a new creation.

Faith, however, sometimes seems the farthest thing from this experience. Sometimes it is very faint. Sometimes it is all we can do to hang on to it. That is why Christ instituted the physical signs of baptism and the Lord's Supper. Until Christ returns, they remind us that the Christian faith is based on the historical events of the God-man's life, death, and resurrection. In Christ's physical absence, they testify to the fact that he was here, that he was and is one of us, that he loved us and gave himself for us, that he died, that he defeated death and rose again, that he ascended on high and is at the right hand of the Father, and that he will come again to make all things new.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, the sacraments are the visible words by which we know our Savior. In them, God promises us the realities to which they point. Whenever our faith is weak, whenever the clouds come to make us doubt whether or not we have indeed experienced the saving grace of Christ, each of us can point to our baptism and claim the promises God made to us in those waters. This does not mean that baptism in and of itself is a guarantee of salvation or that it mechanically accomplishes our salvation, but for those who live by faith in the Son of God, we can count God's testimony in baptism that "This is my beloved child in whom I am well pleased" to be true. And if we doubt Christ, that he was crucified and rose again, that he was our Passover lamb, that his sacrifice counts for us, we can come to His Table and receive his body and blood anew. Were you there when they crucified my Lord? When we sit at the Lord's Table, we can emphatically say, "Yes! I was there. It counts for me."

To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, God only wise, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Reclaiming the Sacramental (Part 1)

My theological journey has taken me places I never thought it would. I grew up Southern Baptist, thinking that the conservative evangelical Protestant branch of Christianity was the truest expression of Christian faith and practice and thus the tape by which to measure all that Christianity truly should be. Granted, I continue to believe in the principles upon which our movement is based, such as the priesthood of the believer, Scripture as our final and unfailing authority, salvation by grace alone through faith alone, and the need to be born again, but I can no longer hold to a view of the Christian faith common among conservative evangelicals that we alone are good, true, Bible-believing Christians who will be saved and that, by contrast, all other Christians, whether they be mainline Protestants, Catholics, or Orthodox, are only “barely” Christian and that they will be saved only to the degree that they understand and live the Christian faith more or less just as contemporary American Protestant evangelicals do. I absolutely reject this uncharitable, limiting, narrow, and false view of worldwide Christianity. This does not mean, however, that there should be no standards or boundaries for what constitutes orthodox Christian faith. What I’m trying to say is that what constitutes orthodoxy does allow for a broad and diverse range of ways to be authentically Christian. Because of the tremendous ways in which I've been blessed by evangelical Christianity, I do remain committed to the movement and plan to follow God into the future from this base of experience, community, and faith, but I also have come to deeply appreciate what other Christians bring to the table. In this process of appreciative awareness, I have been affected in ways that have far surpassed my expectations and brought me to points at which I have been challenged, blessed, strengthened, disoriented, perplexed, and overwhelmed in the encounter, and as a result, my life, my faith, and my entire worldview have undergone some changes. I want to share some of those with you.

For quite some time, I have been curious about and sympathetic toward the Roman Catholic Church. In light of the history and the continuation of misunderstanding, distrust, and animosity that has existed between Protestants and Catholics since the Reformation, it has grieved me that both of these authentically Christian groups have been at odds with one another when they have shared so much in common and served the same Lord. At first, I was naïve in this regard, thinking that our understandings of and ways of living out the Christian faith differ only on things that are not matters of great importance. That is not true. There are fundamental differences, many of which Protestants and Catholics believe to be significant enough roadblocks to prevent our full fellowship with one another and our inter-Communion and even to prevent the salvation of the other. On the first count, I agree (the ideas of either Catholics giving up the whole sacramental system for "faith only” or of Protestants taking up the whole sacramental system and ecclesial hierarchy are fundamentalist pipedreams, get real!) but on the latter, even though I disagree with these folks, they still have good reasons for thinking so. As a result, I do not think that Protestantism should try to remake Catholicism in its own image in order to ascribe to it saving significance or that Catholicism should try to do the same with Protestantism. This is dishonest, and it is an indignity to the beauty and glory of each faith group's history and also a minimalization of the less positive aspects in each of our histories. I'm going to propose that we accept one another as being different on some very important matters, so much so that we cannot in good faith become organizationally or doctrinally one, while yet striving to be united in love, faith, and the praise of God, accepting and embracing one another as authentically Christian brothers and sisters who have so much to learn from one another, extending the hand of fellowship to one another, engaging in constructive dialogue and work together, and, in all things, viewing our differences as opportunities to bless one another rather than as occasions for strife and discord.

That being said, I do believe that the Bible and Christian faith is made up of theological propositions that are objectively true. Therefore, distinctively Protestant teachings and distinctively Catholic teachings that contradict one another cannot be simultaneously true. Furthermore, God does not expect us to remain completely loyal to the theological tradition to which we belong when he reveals to us that some of that tradition’s teachings miss the mark. As a result, during the course of my theological journey, I have come to reject some of the most sacred of mainstream evangelical Protestant theological assumptions, particularly that grace only comes to us through purely spiritual means and thus that baptism and the Lord's Supper are purely symbolic and in no way communicate grace to those who receive them.

I must clarify a few points, however, before I attempt to show how these assumptions are not biblical and that they are destructive of reaching the goal of a lived Christianity that is adequately engaged with the world and thus fully committed to making "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” A few of you reading this may come from evangelical Christian traditions that do believe that baptism and Communion are sacraments, particularly if you're Lutheran, Presbyterian, Methodist, or Anglican/Episcopalian. If you’re from a Restorationist tradition like the Disciples of Christ, the independent non-denominational Christian Churches, or the Church of Christ, you're probably familiar with the idea of baptism being part of the salvation process. I ask you to also open your mind to the possibility that the Lord's Supper communicates sanctifying grace. However, since most evangelicals are from Baptist or Baptist-influenced (at least in regard to ritual and church polity) traditions, the notion of baptism and the Lord's Supper as purely symbolic and commemorative ordinances is by far the most common understanding of these two rites in American evangelical Christianity. Though I have great respect for the Baptist heritage—remember, I grew up Southern Baptist—I honestly have to say that it is unfortunate that Baptists have embraced and spread ideas about these two sacraments that do not match up with what Paul, Peter, John, Augustine, Luther, Calvin, the Wesleys, and the vast majority of Christians throughout history have believed to be true. (In all fairness, the Protestant understanding of baptism and Communion as ordinances originates with the Swiss reformer Ulrich Zwingli. Zwingli's teachings on ritual weren't widely accepted in the early days of the Reformation, being overshadowed by those of Luther and Calvin. However, Baptist traditions later embraced his idea of ordinances, and as these traditions grew, so did the influence of this teaching.)

The connection this has to my appreciation of Catholicism is that my arrival at a more moderately-Protestant view of baptism and Communion is by way of my engagement with Catholicism. I believe that the spiritual descendents of the Reformation have taken the Protestant tenant of salvation by faith alone much further than the original reformers ever dreamed. I think that a second or third-generation Protestant (meaning a Protestant tradition that later broke off from the original Reformation movements or in turn broke off from these breakaway movements as well) understanding of salvation by "faith alone" must be balanced by Catholic and older Protestant views of these two sacraments’ relations to salvation. The key here is balance. Though I take very seriously the possibility that Catholic teachings about the Church are indeed objectively true, it is my current belief that the Catholic Church overemphasizes the Church's role in connecting believers to Jesus, but to me, this is only a matter of degree and not of substance. Anyway, in Catholicism, the Church is Christ's presence on earth, the Body of Christ in the most literal sense, so the sacraments of the Church are the primary means by which the believer connects with Jesus and receives salvation and the Holy Spirit. On the other hand, I think that second and third-generation Protestants go too far the other direction, insisting that the church (notice that church is now lowercased) has no role in bringing people to salvation beyond declaring the Gospel, and thus implicitly that people can be saved independently of the church. In this understanding, the church is merely spiritual, the “invisible” collection of the redeemed that cannot be directly correlated to the visible institution to which believers belong. I think that this distinction between the invisible spiritual church and the visible institutional church, if not outright artificial, is much too sharp. While it is certainly true that there are some who are part of the institutional church but who are not in right relationship with God, the inverse, that there are genuinely faithful Christians outside of the institution and community of the church is not biblical. I will clarify this by saying that not only is the church in us but we are also in the church. The church and the believers in the church are mutually constitutive of one another. There is no church without believers and there are no believers without the church. For instance, then, the New Testament does not consider those who are not part of the church, have intentionally refused baptism, and, for these reasons, are not receiving Communion to be people who are currently in right standing with God. With all fairness, all faithful Protestants insist that Christians should be part of the church but imply by their understanding of the church and grace that people can live a Christian life and be finally saved without the church.

I propose a middle way between the Catholic understanding of the Church's primacy in communicating grace to the Christian and the mainstream evangelical Protestant understanding of the church as having no direct role in bringing people to salvation. I propose that the church is really the Church. Jesus is present in the Church itself in a way that I am afraid that evangelicals have forgotten. God speaks to us through the Church and communicates grace through the Church. In baptism and Communion, the sacraments that all Christians practice, we are personally and powerfully interacting with the Lord. This is not to say that we do not interact with Jesus personally and individually through faith and the Holy Spirit in prayer. We absolutely do. In fact, I believe that this is a very important way in which we relate to Jesus, but the Church itself and the sacraments it provides are channels by which we can know, receive, love, worship, and unite with God in a very special way. Let's consider Matthew 16:17-20:
Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. 18And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. 19I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." 20Then he warned his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Christ.
This has been an historically controversial passage in debates between Protestants and Catholics about the office of the Pope, but here, I want to direct our attention instead to the matter of the keys of the kingdom of heaven being given to Peter and by extension to the Apostles and the Church built on their teachings. There have been a number of ways that Protestants have explained verse 19, including that the church has the keys to heaven only to the degree that it is the Church's responsibility to spread the gospel of Christ. I agree, but I also think this passage implies much more about the function of the Church. I think this also refers to the fact that the Church opens the gates to heaven in some sense through the sacraments of salvation it administers. I think verse 20 gives us a clue that Jesus is referring to the sacraments here. I had always wondered why Jesus is always so concerned about keeping his identity concealed in the synoptic Gospels. Why did he not urge the disciples instead to proclaim it from the hilltops that he was the Christ? It's not because Jesus wanted to keep the message of salvation in him from people, it's because Jesus always intended to reveal who he is through his death and resurrection. It is at Calvary and the empty tomb that Jesus most clearly reveals himself to be God, and it is in his atoning death and resurrection that he wants to reveal to each of us that he is the Christ, the Son of the living God. That is the mystery Jesus’s sense of mystery about his identity is pointing to. Paul and other ancient Christians also talk a lot about mystery, referring to the sacraments of baptism and Communion as part of the Paschal mystery. They are mysteries caught up in the great mystery of redemption purchased on the cross. They are signs rather than mere symbols of Jesus’ atoning death and resurrection. They confer to a significant degree the graces that they signify, so in baptism and Communion, we receive in an important way the benefits of Christ's death and resurrection. Baptism and Communion are thus sacraments: Sacred, Advangtageous Christian Rites And Mysteriously Effective New Testament Signs. By pointing us to Calvary in verse 20, Jesus shows us that the Church is the guardian of the mystery of salvation, both in the proclamation of the Gospel and in the administration of the sacraments. I don't think it means that the Church has any particularly formal role in and of itself to decide who God will save or damn (God most certainly still saves when the Church miscarries its salvific work), but it does point us to our solemn responsibility to help bring people to salvation and our evangelistic and sacramental roles in that process.

Now, I want to turn to the relevant passages of Scripture regarding the sacramental nature of water baptism. We see baptism in the Gospels, the baptism given by John the Baptist to Jews, including Jesus himself. John's baptism of Jesus, while not Christian baptism per se, clearly pre-figures Christian baptism in that God declares that Jesus is his Son and Jesus visibly receives the Holy Spirit in his baptism. This all correlates to the ideas of the Christian’s adoption by God as his child in baptism, the calling, or anointing if you will, of the believer into the Father’s purposes through baptism, and the receipt of the Holy Spirit through baptism. After his death and resurrection, Jesus institutes Christian baptism in the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19-20, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you," and in Mark 16:16, "Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned." Though the second is of questionable biblical origin, it is certainly orthodox even if not written by Mark himself. Notice that Mark does not complete or close the argument regarding baptism. Though he says that "Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved," he does not state the inverse. This passage indicates that salvation comes at least in part through baptism but in no way implies that not being baptized through no fault of one's own contributes in any way to one's damnation. One only guarantees his or her own damnation by rejecting the offer of salvation in Christ.

We must also note that in Mark 16:16 baptism is connected closely to belief. Baptism is known as the “sacrament of faith” in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I think most sacramental Protestants would probably also speak of baptism in similar terms. Ironically, Catholics and most sacramental Protestants baptize infants. How does belief relate to infants? Are these traditions in conflict with Scripture. I really don't think so. I do not agree with the Baptists, the credobaptist Pentecostal/charismatic traditions, or the Restorationist traditions that only "believer's baptism" is valid. If you were baptized as a young child or infant, I do not recommend rebaptism since the dominant teaching throughout Christian history has been that baptism is not to be repeated. Though the household baptisms mentioned in the book of Acts do seem to indicate that the Apostles baptized infants, this is probably not enough biblical evidence in and of itself to affirm this practice (as a rule of thumb, Protestant Bible interpreters require two or three passages in the teaching portions of Scripture to uphold a doctrine; a passage or two in a narrative portion of Scripture is not sufficient evidence to infallibly uphold a doctrine). On the other hand, I don't think the fact that the word for baptism used in the Greek literally means “to immerse” (it also more generally means to wash) or that the overwhelming majority of, if not all, the first-generation Christians baptized in the Bible were adults who had first professed faith in Jesus (a curiously inconsistent usage by non-sacramental Protestants of narrative passages of Scripture to infallibly uphold a doctrine of universally prescribed credobaptism) to be enough biblical evidence to make a particularly strong argument against baptizing babies.

The truth is that we have not been given a New Testament Leviticus by which to construct the Church and its rituals. The New Testament does not give us a rigid legal code that locks us in to specific, exact, right down to the detail ways to structure our ritual worship the way the Old Testament does. Paul, in 1 Corinthians, seems to indicate that there are many matters that God has left up to the reason and common sense of people in the Church to decide. The particular mode of and candidate for baptism may be one of those things that God has given us some latitude in. The only things the Bible and the most ancient of apostolic traditions insist on is that it be done with water (obviously), be done in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and that it not be repeated. Also, our earliest extra-biblical source, the Didache, dated to about 110 A.D. and, therefore, according to tradition and even some critical scholars, while the ink on the last writings that ended up in the New Testament was still wet, authorizes the baptism of infants and does not absolutely insist on immersion though it prefers it. If we wanted to get really legalistic about this, we could also insist that both the baptizer and baptizand be naked, as Hippolytus, writing early in the third century A.D., shows that the early Christians baptized in the buff. It is thus not improbable that the baptisms in the Bible were done in the nude too. That’s one possibly biblical tradition that I think we all agree should not be revived!

There are a number of ways to reconcile the baptism of infants to the biblical connection of baptism to faith. Catholics and other Christians with a high ecclesiology—theology of the Church—essentially believe for the recipient of baptism. Also, since Catholics believe that an infant who receives baptism has been born again, this means that she will begin to believe in the Lord as soon as she is able. I personally like a Reformed explanation of how baptism is a sacrament of faith. Baptism is the sign and seal of the New Covenant. God speaks to the heart of the child in baptism, and, just as babies hear and respond to the voices of their parents, they hear and respond to the voice of their Heavenly Father as he speaks “This is my son (or daughter) in whom I am well pleased” to them in baptism. They trust in God when they’re baptized in the same way that they trust in their parents when they hear their voices. As Jesus says in John 10, “My sheep hear my voice, and they follow me.” This also points to the fact that God takes the agency in saving us. He calls to us before we even know to call out to him. It also points to our passivity in baptism. It is not a choice; it is not a work. God gives himself to us in the waters of baptism; he works in us, willing that we believe in him. A Presbyterian friend once told me that his baptism as a baby represented to him God’s calling of him from the time of his birth. Patrick's later conversion to faith in Christ was merely confirmation of this call. I will later explain how adult baptism can be, if not done in a legalistic sense, a passive reception of grace, how it is not a work any more than praying to receive Christ is, and how it does not conflict with the Protestant tenet of salvation by grace alone through faith alone.

I next want to point out that Peter and Paul talk about baptism in the Bible in ways that Baptist- influenced or Baptist evangelicals would be very uncomfortable with. For instance, though there are issues with using narrative passages to formulate doctrine, I think a look at the first sermon and first altar call in the history of the Church is instructive. After being cut to the heart at the words of Peter, his audience asks of him, "'What must we do to be saved?' And Peter said to them, 'Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit'" (Acts 2:37-39). You would never hear such a statement from a preacher in most evangelical churches. Regardless of whether or not this is in context, most evangelical preachers or teachers would never make such a statement.

In Romans 6:1-4, Paul directly connects our death to sin and ascent into new life with baptism:
What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? 2By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? 3Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.
Due to the imagery used here, it is highly unlikely that Paul is speaking of a purely spiritual baptism into Christ to which many non-sacramental Protestant authorities point in efforts to negate the apparent salvific implications of baptism put forward in this passage.

Consider also Paul's words in Galatians 3:26-28:

For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. 27For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. 28 There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
He connects the putting on of Christ and the radical equality of all believers directly to the baptism that they have all received. Also notice the connection to faith here. We become sons and daughters of God through faith. Paul simultaneously holds in full force both the primacy of faith and the importance of baptism in salvation. He doesn't seem to find any conflict between salvation by faith and the salvific implications of baptism. A further note on the context of this passage, the context of Paul's letter to the Galatians is that Paul is correcting the Galatians legalistic dependence on the Law of Moses to save them. Paul does not consider baptism a work of the Law in the same way he does circumcision. Baptism is thus not a meritorious work. It is not a way to earn salvation by pleasing God. We cannot please God. It is only by his own grace that we can please God. Christ's institution of baptism is simply a tangible way of communicating to us the promise of receiving the righteousness of God by which he makes us pleasing to himself.

Paul carries this argument further, showing how baptism is not something we do for God to try to please him but something that God does in us. In Colossians 2:11-14, he writes:
In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, 12 having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead. 13 And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, 14by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.
Again, we see baptism directly connected to Christ's atoning death by which he earned salvation for us all. Notice here how he connects a circumcision of the heart to baptism. Baptism is a circumcision made without hands, a putting off of the flesh. Granted, of course, water baptism is an external event in and of itself, but this is not the whole picture of it. God works inside us in this physical bath. Baptism is thus not just an external witness to an internal reality that has already taken place. Baptism is God's use of water, of matter, to confirm and seal his promise of salvation to us. Mysteriously, baptism somehow carries with it the grace it signifies without itself being an identity with that grace. We must think of baptism's role in our salvation as conferring the promise of receiving the grace rather than conferring the fullness of the grace itself. Baptism is simply God's visible, tangible way of promising to change us internally, to give us the grace of regeneration, of justification, of rightness with God, of washing from sin. Though I would not say that baptism in and of itself can save us, it must still be reckoned as important to our salvation in the sense that it strengthens our faith. The emphasis in this is not on what we do but on what God mysteriously and counter-intuitively does in us.

Salvation is a mystery. It goes against our logic. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense. What is God thinking? Using something physical to help change us spiritually? But, isn't that what the Incarnation is all about? God taking on a material body, coming to a material earth, spiritually saving beings composed of matter, redeeming physical nature, physical creatures, and a physical earth (which he promises to perfect when he returns), the God-man dying a physical death on a physical cross, the God-man rising physically, bodily from the grave, the risen God-man revealing his identity in the breaking of bread (Luke 24:35), Jesus coming in water and blood (1 John 5:6). Isn't it universal Christian doctrine that God's physical work of conception, birth, life, death, and resurrection accomplished the spiritual salvation of his people; isn't it also catholic, orthodox (meaning universally accepted and doctrinally sound) teaching that we will experience eternal life in bodily form; isn't it true that when salvation in all its fullness becomes a present reality that our bodies will be redeemed and glorified together with our spirits? Could we have been saved without the Incarnation? I honestly don't know. God possibly could have redeemed us some other way, but the fact is that he did it the way he did it. In that light, maybe it does make perfect sense that God continues to use matter in saving us, since the basis for our salvation in the first place is the broken flesh and spilled blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be;
world without end. Amen.