Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Monday, March 16, 2015
Book Review: "Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul"
Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul by John M. Barry (Viking, 2012), hardcover, 480 pages
The relationship between religion and the political state in the United States is a complex issue. While some cite a line from a Thomas Jefferson letter advocating a 'wall between church and state' as a guiding (and amusingly, sacred) text, the issues consistently overlap in American life. However, the legal protection for freedom of religion that developed in the United States was a radical departure from the government control of religion in Europe over the preceding centuries.
So, how did the idea of religious liberty become so influential in the United States? Many probably imagine that it came with the Puritans, who saw the ways that both government and the church could become corrupted and emigrated to New England in search of freedom. Less well known, however, is that they wanted the freedom to create a similar system where the government could legally uphold the orthodox church -- political ways to preserve the purity of their envisioned "City on a Hill." Instead, it was dissidents to these Puritans, including Baptists, Presbyterians, and Quakers, who sought legal protections for religious liberty so they could practice their faith without fear of punishment.
Ironically, a few Puritans themselves sought religious liberty too when their ideas were deemed unorthodox -- and thus illegal -- by officials in the Massachusetts colony. The most famous of these was Roger Williams, a Puritan theologian who, after refusing to recant some of his teaching, was banished from Massachusetts and ended up founding Rhode Island. Throughout his life, he would not only practically seek religious liberty for himself, but he would provide the theoretical and theological argument endorsing such liberty.
The ways that life, education, experience, and a confluence of significant historical events shaped Williams and his thinking about religious liberty is the subject of John M. Barry's Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul: Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty. Barry, a historian who has written well regarded accounts of the 1917 influenza outbreak and the 1927 Mississippi River flood, argues that Williams is the central character in shaping America's unique relationship of church and state, with its protection of religious freedom. While such an argument is an oversimplification of a very complex story that has evolved over four centuries, the biography of Williams certainly highlights almost all of the main parts of that larger story.
In some ways, Williams is a tragic and inspiring figure. Despite his influence, he sacrificed an easy life to live out his beliefs about government and religion, and he passed opportunities for financial gain for the sake of the larger good. Through his connections in British government, he was able to attain British protection of the nascent Rhode Island colony and its unique religious liberty; through his careful leadership in Rhode Island, he turned a rather rag-tag group of inhabitants into a group who, by majority rule, would uphold religious liberty even in trying circumstances.
Barry writes the story of how Williams came to espouse such beliefs and how he lived them out in his life in an overlapping account. The early sections detail his education -- both formal and informal education -- in his native England, making particular note of the influence of Edward Coke on Williams' thinking. Roger Williams was a stenographer for the brilliant jurist who famously opposed Francis Bacon. Coke's arguments about the importance of the law itself, as opposed to the whims of the rulers, greatly shaped Williams ideas not only about the limits of rulers and the authority of laws properly enacted, enforced, and adjudicated but also about the nature and limits of religious authority.
In time, Williams would trade on his influence with such leaders in Oliver Cromwell's era to gain British sanction for his experimental government in Rhode Island. He also would write letters, pamphlets, and books espousing his ideas on such matters, which likely influenced the key political philosopher just coming of age during that period, John Locke (who in turn would greatly influence the key generation of America's founders, especially Thomas Jefferson).
More exciting, though, was Williams life in New England, first through his efforts to be part of the Massachusetts colony and then, after his banishment, through his formation and protection of the Rhode Island settlements. Barry details episode after episode where Massachusetts leaders try to undercut Williams, force him to change, and then, after he established Rhode Island, try to wrest control of the land away from him. Barry also recounts some of the key internal challenges that the nascent colony faced, including the influence of some people more interested in personal profit than religious liberty or any of Williams' other ideas about government and law.
Occasionally, Barry is repetitive, and some might tire from his sometimes lengthy explorations of the philosophical and legal strands of Williams' thought (though I certainly did not), but otherwise this is a fine volume in which a single biography becomes the means for teaching about a larger historical narrative. Williams was an influential figure who lived in a tumultuous time, shaping life around him and leaving an outsize legacy. Most readers will be amazed at how eventful Williams' life was and how meaningful it was for the United States.
The relationship between religion and the political state in the United States is a complex issue. While some cite a line from a Thomas Jefferson letter advocating a 'wall between church and state' as a guiding (and amusingly, sacred) text, the issues consistently overlap in American life. However, the legal protection for freedom of religion that developed in the United States was a radical departure from the government control of religion in Europe over the preceding centuries.
So, how did the idea of religious liberty become so influential in the United States? Many probably imagine that it came with the Puritans, who saw the ways that both government and the church could become corrupted and emigrated to New England in search of freedom. Less well known, however, is that they wanted the freedom to create a similar system where the government could legally uphold the orthodox church -- political ways to preserve the purity of their envisioned "City on a Hill." Instead, it was dissidents to these Puritans, including Baptists, Presbyterians, and Quakers, who sought legal protections for religious liberty so they could practice their faith without fear of punishment.
Ironically, a few Puritans themselves sought religious liberty too when their ideas were deemed unorthodox -- and thus illegal -- by officials in the Massachusetts colony. The most famous of these was Roger Williams, a Puritan theologian who, after refusing to recant some of his teaching, was banished from Massachusetts and ended up founding Rhode Island. Throughout his life, he would not only practically seek religious liberty for himself, but he would provide the theoretical and theological argument endorsing such liberty.
The ways that life, education, experience, and a confluence of significant historical events shaped Williams and his thinking about religious liberty is the subject of John M. Barry's Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul: Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty. Barry, a historian who has written well regarded accounts of the 1917 influenza outbreak and the 1927 Mississippi River flood, argues that Williams is the central character in shaping America's unique relationship of church and state, with its protection of religious freedom. While such an argument is an oversimplification of a very complex story that has evolved over four centuries, the biography of Williams certainly highlights almost all of the main parts of that larger story.
In some ways, Williams is a tragic and inspiring figure. Despite his influence, he sacrificed an easy life to live out his beliefs about government and religion, and he passed opportunities for financial gain for the sake of the larger good. Through his connections in British government, he was able to attain British protection of the nascent Rhode Island colony and its unique religious liberty; through his careful leadership in Rhode Island, he turned a rather rag-tag group of inhabitants into a group who, by majority rule, would uphold religious liberty even in trying circumstances.
Barry writes the story of how Williams came to espouse such beliefs and how he lived them out in his life in an overlapping account. The early sections detail his education -- both formal and informal education -- in his native England, making particular note of the influence of Edward Coke on Williams' thinking. Roger Williams was a stenographer for the brilliant jurist who famously opposed Francis Bacon. Coke's arguments about the importance of the law itself, as opposed to the whims of the rulers, greatly shaped Williams ideas not only about the limits of rulers and the authority of laws properly enacted, enforced, and adjudicated but also about the nature and limits of religious authority.
In time, Williams would trade on his influence with such leaders in Oliver Cromwell's era to gain British sanction for his experimental government in Rhode Island. He also would write letters, pamphlets, and books espousing his ideas on such matters, which likely influenced the key political philosopher just coming of age during that period, John Locke (who in turn would greatly influence the key generation of America's founders, especially Thomas Jefferson).
More exciting, though, was Williams life in New England, first through his efforts to be part of the Massachusetts colony and then, after his banishment, through his formation and protection of the Rhode Island settlements. Barry details episode after episode where Massachusetts leaders try to undercut Williams, force him to change, and then, after he established Rhode Island, try to wrest control of the land away from him. Barry also recounts some of the key internal challenges that the nascent colony faced, including the influence of some people more interested in personal profit than religious liberty or any of Williams' other ideas about government and law.
Occasionally, Barry is repetitive, and some might tire from his sometimes lengthy explorations of the philosophical and legal strands of Williams' thought (though I certainly did not), but otherwise this is a fine volume in which a single biography becomes the means for teaching about a larger historical narrative. Williams was an influential figure who lived in a tumultuous time, shaping life around him and leaving an outsize legacy. Most readers will be amazed at how eventful Williams' life was and how meaningful it was for the United States.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Book Review: "Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith"
Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott (Riverhead Books, 2005), hardcover, 336 pages
"The devil is in the details," a common saying goes, but for people of faith, it is often true that God is in the details – or at least that God is revealed in the details. With Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, best-selling author Anne Lamott offers another book filled with knowing details that illuminate some of the big issues of faith: parenting, politics, divorce, and death, among others. As in her wonderful Traveling Mercies, the essays and stories are sprinkled with her trademark humor, much of it ironic and self-deprecating; they also are sprinkled with straightforward comments on adult issues and no shortage of adult language, which may startle some readers.
Published in 2005, there is a recurrent theme of extreme frustration with the presidency of George W. Bush and especially with the war in Iraq. Several times Lamott mentions protesting against the war and praying for peace, a not uncommon theme of the period from many liberal American Christian activists. Few, though, have the chops to describe trying to love the person who stands for everything you hate, as Christians are supposed to do, and as Lamott does in the ridiculously droll essay, "loving your president: day 2."
While the issue of politics and faith may be emphasized, though, I think the more powerful theme of the book is Lamott's deepening relationship with her son Sam, just entering his teenage years. Aside from the understandable friction raised by some of Sam's inexplicable behavior, Lamott explores the introduction of Sam's father into his life around age 10, writing honestly about the pain this sometimes causes her, but also being surprisingly open to moments of joy and grace. This is most obvious when she shares the story of Sam meeting him much older half-brother.
Probably due to Sam's presence and importance, these essays have a much different feel than many of the essays in Traveling Mercies. Partially, this may be that none are as memorable as Lamott's blunt, and hysterical, description of her conversion. Mostly, though, I think they reflect a deepening of Lamott's Christian faith, which she more confidently and comfortably claims as part of her identity in Plan B.
There is a wealth of wisdom and observation here, especially about daily life outside of the comforts of a church sanctuary. Unlike some Christians, Lamott freely admits some of her hypocrisy. For example, even as she can testify to the hand of God at the bedside of a woman dying from cancer, she struggles to cope with her broken relationship with her own mother, even after her death, and finds mostly pain and anger there. Then again, Lamott exhibits a patience with God – and even with herself – that also is uncommon and refreshing, and which suggests an openness to continued growth and change which may lessen such hypocrisy.
Overall, Lamott offers an inviting vision of lived faith in these essays, coping with challenging political times, raising a son as a single mother, and coming to terms with her own aging. While I do not always agree with her, I admire her, and I appreciate her honesty, her earthiness, and her humor as she shares these stories of her faith. Needless to say, I also admire the skill with which she writes, which makes her books easy and enjoyable to read.
"The devil is in the details," a common saying goes, but for people of faith, it is often true that God is in the details – or at least that God is revealed in the details. With Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, best-selling author Anne Lamott offers another book filled with knowing details that illuminate some of the big issues of faith: parenting, politics, divorce, and death, among others. As in her wonderful Traveling Mercies, the essays and stories are sprinkled with her trademark humor, much of it ironic and self-deprecating; they also are sprinkled with straightforward comments on adult issues and no shortage of adult language, which may startle some readers.
Published in 2005, there is a recurrent theme of extreme frustration with the presidency of George W. Bush and especially with the war in Iraq. Several times Lamott mentions protesting against the war and praying for peace, a not uncommon theme of the period from many liberal American Christian activists. Few, though, have the chops to describe trying to love the person who stands for everything you hate, as Christians are supposed to do, and as Lamott does in the ridiculously droll essay, "loving your president: day 2."
While the issue of politics and faith may be emphasized, though, I think the more powerful theme of the book is Lamott's deepening relationship with her son Sam, just entering his teenage years. Aside from the understandable friction raised by some of Sam's inexplicable behavior, Lamott explores the introduction of Sam's father into his life around age 10, writing honestly about the pain this sometimes causes her, but also being surprisingly open to moments of joy and grace. This is most obvious when she shares the story of Sam meeting him much older half-brother.
Probably due to Sam's presence and importance, these essays have a much different feel than many of the essays in Traveling Mercies. Partially, this may be that none are as memorable as Lamott's blunt, and hysterical, description of her conversion. Mostly, though, I think they reflect a deepening of Lamott's Christian faith, which she more confidently and comfortably claims as part of her identity in Plan B.
There is a wealth of wisdom and observation here, especially about daily life outside of the comforts of a church sanctuary. Unlike some Christians, Lamott freely admits some of her hypocrisy. For example, even as she can testify to the hand of God at the bedside of a woman dying from cancer, she struggles to cope with her broken relationship with her own mother, even after her death, and finds mostly pain and anger there. Then again, Lamott exhibits a patience with God – and even with herself – that also is uncommon and refreshing, and which suggests an openness to continued growth and change which may lessen such hypocrisy.
Overall, Lamott offers an inviting vision of lived faith in these essays, coping with challenging political times, raising a son as a single mother, and coming to terms with her own aging. While I do not always agree with her, I admire her, and I appreciate her honesty, her earthiness, and her humor as she shares these stories of her faith. Needless to say, I also admire the skill with which she writes, which makes her books easy and enjoyable to read.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Book Review: Finding God: A Treasury of Conversion Stories
Finding God: A Treasury of Conversion Stories, edited by John M. Mulder (Eerdmans, 2012), paperback, 418 pages
The process of conversion to the Christian faith, where someone truly confesses their belief in the redemptive power of Jesus, has always been shrouded in mystery. Even the first disciples of Jesus who accepted his invitation to "Follow me" gave little indication about what happened within them causing them to leave their previous ways of life and to devote the rest of their lives to Jesus.
Through the centuries, Christians have tried to explain how the process of conversion works. For generations, many congregations have offered some form of class to prepare people for baptism or confirmation (if they were baptized as infants), though the content and expectations of these classes have varied widely. The Puritans in colonial New England had well-documented tests of conversion, requiring people to present stories of their conversions before groups of elders who determined if the experiences met their standard of Christian conversion.
No amount of formality, though, can really clarify this deeply personal process that occurs in the depths of the soul. Moreover, those people of faith who have left accounts of their conversion experiences have shared stories with differing, and sometimes conflicting, details. For some, conversion to Christianity was an instantaneous event, like the flipping of a switch; for others, conversion happened over time. For some, conversion was the result of a repeated presence of God -- or the search for God -- in their lives; for others it was completely unexpected. Some describe a sense of assurance of their salvation as part of their conversion experience; others have doubted their salvation, even after their conversion.
John Mulder, expanding on a collection of conversion stories that he edited with the late Hugh Kerr some 30 years ago, offers a wide variety of these accounts in Finding God: A Treasury of Conversion Stories. This rich collection offers 60 well-chosen conversion stories, frequently of famous Christians throughout history, such as Martin Luther, C. S. Lewis, Leo Tolstoy, Albert Schweitzer, Mother Teresa, and Billy Graham. The stories are taken mostly from memoirs, but also come from sermons, letters, and occasionally from third-person accounts. Each is preceded by a short introduction, offering biographical details and setting the context for the conversion.
Some readers, if they have particular ideas about what constitutes a conversion experience, may find the book disorienting -- to be sure, those 17th Century Puritan elders would not know what to make of many of these stories (except to deny that they were Christian conversions). However, I think the variety of these accounts is the great strength of this collection. These 60 stories offer perspectives from throughout the 2000 year history of Christianity, from different theological traditions, from different places and cultures, from both men and women; this variety seeks to honor the mystery of Christian conversion as much as it seeks to enlighten.
In fact, my only quibble with the well-edited and well-presented book is that perhaps some effort should have been made to include stories from the not-so-famous alongside these iconic Christian leaders and writers in order to offer more variety of notoriety and fame. (I certainly recognize that any anthology is going to tend towards famous names -- partially because their stories are more likely to have been preserved. But, at the very least, there are many Puritan conversion stories extant; one could have been chosen to coincide with Jonathan Edwards' story.) Still, this is a minor quibble.
Finding God offers an anthology of meaningful and sometimes poignant tales of personal encounters with God that changed people's lives completely. Given the number of stories, it might serve as an alternative type of personal devotional material for a couple of months. Overall, the collection certainly suggests a vastness in the ways God touches lives and the many ways that people respond to the age-old invitation of Jesus to "Follow me."
The process of conversion to the Christian faith, where someone truly confesses their belief in the redemptive power of Jesus, has always been shrouded in mystery. Even the first disciples of Jesus who accepted his invitation to "Follow me" gave little indication about what happened within them causing them to leave their previous ways of life and to devote the rest of their lives to Jesus.
Through the centuries, Christians have tried to explain how the process of conversion works. For generations, many congregations have offered some form of class to prepare people for baptism or confirmation (if they were baptized as infants), though the content and expectations of these classes have varied widely. The Puritans in colonial New England had well-documented tests of conversion, requiring people to present stories of their conversions before groups of elders who determined if the experiences met their standard of Christian conversion.
No amount of formality, though, can really clarify this deeply personal process that occurs in the depths of the soul. Moreover, those people of faith who have left accounts of their conversion experiences have shared stories with differing, and sometimes conflicting, details. For some, conversion to Christianity was an instantaneous event, like the flipping of a switch; for others, conversion happened over time. For some, conversion was the result of a repeated presence of God -- or the search for God -- in their lives; for others it was completely unexpected. Some describe a sense of assurance of their salvation as part of their conversion experience; others have doubted their salvation, even after their conversion.
John Mulder, expanding on a collection of conversion stories that he edited with the late Hugh Kerr some 30 years ago, offers a wide variety of these accounts in Finding God: A Treasury of Conversion Stories. This rich collection offers 60 well-chosen conversion stories, frequently of famous Christians throughout history, such as Martin Luther, C. S. Lewis, Leo Tolstoy, Albert Schweitzer, Mother Teresa, and Billy Graham. The stories are taken mostly from memoirs, but also come from sermons, letters, and occasionally from third-person accounts. Each is preceded by a short introduction, offering biographical details and setting the context for the conversion.
Some readers, if they have particular ideas about what constitutes a conversion experience, may find the book disorienting -- to be sure, those 17th Century Puritan elders would not know what to make of many of these stories (except to deny that they were Christian conversions). However, I think the variety of these accounts is the great strength of this collection. These 60 stories offer perspectives from throughout the 2000 year history of Christianity, from different theological traditions, from different places and cultures, from both men and women; this variety seeks to honor the mystery of Christian conversion as much as it seeks to enlighten.
In fact, my only quibble with the well-edited and well-presented book is that perhaps some effort should have been made to include stories from the not-so-famous alongside these iconic Christian leaders and writers in order to offer more variety of notoriety and fame. (I certainly recognize that any anthology is going to tend towards famous names -- partially because their stories are more likely to have been preserved. But, at the very least, there are many Puritan conversion stories extant; one could have been chosen to coincide with Jonathan Edwards' story.) Still, this is a minor quibble.
Finding God offers an anthology of meaningful and sometimes poignant tales of personal encounters with God that changed people's lives completely. Given the number of stories, it might serve as an alternative type of personal devotional material for a couple of months. Overall, the collection certainly suggests a vastness in the ways God touches lives and the many ways that people respond to the age-old invitation of Jesus to "Follow me."
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Book Review: "The Church on the Other Side"
The Church on the Other Side: Doing Ministry in the Postmodern Matrix by Brian D. McLaren (Zondervan, 2003), paperback, 224 pages
Whatever their disagreements on a multitude of other issues, almost all Christians active in congregations can agree on one thing: the practices of Christian faith have changed dramatically in recent years. A regular church-goer from the 1950s dropped into a modern congregation would probably be shocked by, among other things, much more casual dress, more audio-visual technology, and new music (sometimes accompanied by new instruments), not to mention the much more public role of women.
Some of the most dramatic change is not quite so visible on the surface, but quickly becomes obvious. Worship attendance patterns have changed: often regular attenders only appear at services about once a month, owing to weekend work hours, various children's activities, traveling, or just wanting to take it easy on Sunday mornings. It is also increasingly difficult to get volunteers for various activities or responsibilities in the congregation -- in general, there are fewer members and much busier members than before. Such changes are creating financial hardship for many congregations, making the contemporary differences painfully obvious all too often.
To be sure, sometimes Americans become enamored with talk of new things, whether they are "new and improved" products or new challenges in their lives. As a student of history, it seems to me that there have been significant changes in Christianity in the United States at least every generation for at least 250 years (a quarter of a millennium), so the current period of change and challenge should not be all that surprising.
Still, the new context for Christian congregations in the past several years demands some understanding of what has changed -- both inside and outside of the church -- and how congregations can respond to the opportunities and challenges created by these changes. Popular Christian author Brian D. McLaren's 2003 book, The Church on the Other Side: Doing Ministry in the Postmodern Matrix, offers a prescient overview of the current situation for congregations, whose component parts -- in various forms and combinations -- have come to be adopted and advocated by other church leaders who have explored 'modern ministry' in the past decade.
McLaren grabs attention at the opening of the introduction with a succinct assessment, "If you have a new world, you need a new church. You have a new world." From there, in a conversational style that is engaging and concise, he suggests twelve positive ways that congregations can respond to the 'new world' in which they now find themselves. Overall, he offers new language, new approaches to mission, new organizational flexibility, and a renewed appreciation of tradition as ways the congregations can meet the challenges of this era and still live out the Christian calling faithfully and in ways that attract others to do the same. The book culminates in an extensive section where McLaren attempts to tackle the issue of "post-modernism," which he does fairly well (though, as with most explorations of post-modernism, the ultimate description is hazy, at best).
While McLaren presents many ideas, most of them can be classified in two main areas: structure and language. Like many, McLaren suggests that churches have outlasted the organizational structures that served them well during the '50s and '60s. This is most obvious for congregations that are much smaller now than they used to be, but still try to operate in the same way; however, McLaren emphasizes that current church participants are different from those of 40 years ago. Sometimes this is due to the changing demographics of the location of the church building, but it is also due to the cultural shifts over the past two generations. In a couple of chapters, McLaren explains how these changes require a different leadership model (in particular, one that recognizes that no leader can do everything well) and a renewed focus on outreach and mission in congregational ministry.
McLaren also argues that contemporary Christians need to adjust the ways that we speak about ministry and faith. Repeatedly, he insists that the emphasis on rational certainty about different aspects of Christian teaching needs to be abandoned and replaced by an approach to the Gospel and essential beliefs that is more open to questions and even mystery. Interestingly, McLaren suggests that such openness should allow Christians to reclaim certain parts of the tradition, including large swaths of theological and spiritual writings, that had been cast aside as part of previous doctrinal debates or overly critical historical narratives.
More than anything, it is apparent that McLaren is trying to encourage and support a conversation about the ways Christians need to adapt to the changing context of recent years. The book itself models this: it is a revision and expansion of a previous book, Reinventing Your Church, based on additional research and conversation. It also has an extensive appendix filled with thoughtful questions designed to stimulate discussion, especially among congregational leaders.
This is an ongoing discussion in which active Christians need to participate. While the Gospel remains unchanged, the lives of those who desperately need to hear the good news of Jesus Christ are significantly different at the dawn of the 21st Century than in the middle of the 20th Century and before. McLaren succinctly offers the broad outlines of how an old church might effectively minister to this new world.
Whatever their disagreements on a multitude of other issues, almost all Christians active in congregations can agree on one thing: the practices of Christian faith have changed dramatically in recent years. A regular church-goer from the 1950s dropped into a modern congregation would probably be shocked by, among other things, much more casual dress, more audio-visual technology, and new music (sometimes accompanied by new instruments), not to mention the much more public role of women.
Some of the most dramatic change is not quite so visible on the surface, but quickly becomes obvious. Worship attendance patterns have changed: often regular attenders only appear at services about once a month, owing to weekend work hours, various children's activities, traveling, or just wanting to take it easy on Sunday mornings. It is also increasingly difficult to get volunteers for various activities or responsibilities in the congregation -- in general, there are fewer members and much busier members than before. Such changes are creating financial hardship for many congregations, making the contemporary differences painfully obvious all too often.
To be sure, sometimes Americans become enamored with talk of new things, whether they are "new and improved" products or new challenges in their lives. As a student of history, it seems to me that there have been significant changes in Christianity in the United States at least every generation for at least 250 years (a quarter of a millennium), so the current period of change and challenge should not be all that surprising.
Still, the new context for Christian congregations in the past several years demands some understanding of what has changed -- both inside and outside of the church -- and how congregations can respond to the opportunities and challenges created by these changes. Popular Christian author Brian D. McLaren's 2003 book, The Church on the Other Side: Doing Ministry in the Postmodern Matrix, offers a prescient overview of the current situation for congregations, whose component parts -- in various forms and combinations -- have come to be adopted and advocated by other church leaders who have explored 'modern ministry' in the past decade.
McLaren grabs attention at the opening of the introduction with a succinct assessment, "If you have a new world, you need a new church. You have a new world." From there, in a conversational style that is engaging and concise, he suggests twelve positive ways that congregations can respond to the 'new world' in which they now find themselves. Overall, he offers new language, new approaches to mission, new organizational flexibility, and a renewed appreciation of tradition as ways the congregations can meet the challenges of this era and still live out the Christian calling faithfully and in ways that attract others to do the same. The book culminates in an extensive section where McLaren attempts to tackle the issue of "post-modernism," which he does fairly well (though, as with most explorations of post-modernism, the ultimate description is hazy, at best).
While McLaren presents many ideas, most of them can be classified in two main areas: structure and language. Like many, McLaren suggests that churches have outlasted the organizational structures that served them well during the '50s and '60s. This is most obvious for congregations that are much smaller now than they used to be, but still try to operate in the same way; however, McLaren emphasizes that current church participants are different from those of 40 years ago. Sometimes this is due to the changing demographics of the location of the church building, but it is also due to the cultural shifts over the past two generations. In a couple of chapters, McLaren explains how these changes require a different leadership model (in particular, one that recognizes that no leader can do everything well) and a renewed focus on outreach and mission in congregational ministry.
McLaren also argues that contemporary Christians need to adjust the ways that we speak about ministry and faith. Repeatedly, he insists that the emphasis on rational certainty about different aspects of Christian teaching needs to be abandoned and replaced by an approach to the Gospel and essential beliefs that is more open to questions and even mystery. Interestingly, McLaren suggests that such openness should allow Christians to reclaim certain parts of the tradition, including large swaths of theological and spiritual writings, that had been cast aside as part of previous doctrinal debates or overly critical historical narratives.
More than anything, it is apparent that McLaren is trying to encourage and support a conversation about the ways Christians need to adapt to the changing context of recent years. The book itself models this: it is a revision and expansion of a previous book, Reinventing Your Church, based on additional research and conversation. It also has an extensive appendix filled with thoughtful questions designed to stimulate discussion, especially among congregational leaders.
This is an ongoing discussion in which active Christians need to participate. While the Gospel remains unchanged, the lives of those who desperately need to hear the good news of Jesus Christ are significantly different at the dawn of the 21st Century than in the middle of the 20th Century and before. McLaren succinctly offers the broad outlines of how an old church might effectively minister to this new world.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Book Review: "The Epistle to the Romans"
The Epistle to the Romans by Karl Barth, translated by Edwyn Hoskyns (Oxford University Press, USA, 1968), paperback, 576 pages
While Karl Barth would later offer a more systematic theology in his Church Dogmatics, he first gave voice to his theological vision in his commentary on The Epistle to the Romans, first published in 1918 and then expanded and reissued five more times during the following ten years. Translated from German into English in 1933, the work provided an intellectual foundation for the theological movement that eventually was described as Barthianism or Neo-Orthodoxy.
Barth's analysis of Romans is straightforward: Paul offered God's wisdom to his age and the same lessons are applicable to contemporary times. However, the heart of Barth's interpretation is rather counter-intuitive: the apostle is writing to a depraved and fallen humanity that cannot fathom the transcendent God, so much of what can be understood, and must be understood, is negative (humans must come to understand what things they can never understand). Barth insists on human inability to understand divine wisdom; worse, human institutions -- including the church -- try to promote flawed wisdom in place of God's teaching.
Amazingly, Barth, responding to 18th and 19th century theologians and Biblical scholars who advocated for a progressive Christianity that imagined a constructive role for human beings in elucidating and carrying out God's teaching, insisted on a theological position about divine power more stringent than even John Calvin's notable writing about the transcendent God. God's power and wisdom are completely different and grander than anything that people can understand or appreciate; in fact, only through direct revelation (that is, the Bible) can human beings even begin to understand anything about God.
The consequence of this thinking -- and the central delicate interpretation that Barth must provide -- is that there is barely any difference between sin and non-sin, between faith and non-faith. Given that sinful human beings are so fallen, so limited, and so ignorant, it is difficult to describe how mortals can act with any conception of good and evil that even approximates God's ultimate good and evil. In some ways, it appears that awareness of this human limitation is what separates faithful Christians from others, in Barth's analysis.
As a rather unabashed Calvinist on most matters of divine transcendence, I can appreciate Barth's approach in some ways, but it consistently undervalues humanity in a way that seems to diverge from the description of human beings created in God's image (Genesis 1) and the way that Jesus consistently approaches and teaches people in the Gospels. Still, the great gift for Christians of Barth's rigorous and persistent approach is the necessary reminder that our thinking is not God's thinking and we probably do not know even what we think we know, especially when we dare to speak of God.
With this in mind, it should be noted that reading Barth is not for the faint of heart or mind. He often approaches subjects with a density of prose, including paragraphs that can run for pages. Frankly, I also find that Barth is best read in small doses, lest one's eyes glaze over. Still, this influential theological approach demands understanding, assessment, and likely adaptation by modern Christians.
While Karl Barth would later offer a more systematic theology in his Church Dogmatics, he first gave voice to his theological vision in his commentary on The Epistle to the Romans, first published in 1918 and then expanded and reissued five more times during the following ten years. Translated from German into English in 1933, the work provided an intellectual foundation for the theological movement that eventually was described as Barthianism or Neo-Orthodoxy.
Barth's analysis of Romans is straightforward: Paul offered God's wisdom to his age and the same lessons are applicable to contemporary times. However, the heart of Barth's interpretation is rather counter-intuitive: the apostle is writing to a depraved and fallen humanity that cannot fathom the transcendent God, so much of what can be understood, and must be understood, is negative (humans must come to understand what things they can never understand). Barth insists on human inability to understand divine wisdom; worse, human institutions -- including the church -- try to promote flawed wisdom in place of God's teaching.
Amazingly, Barth, responding to 18th and 19th century theologians and Biblical scholars who advocated for a progressive Christianity that imagined a constructive role for human beings in elucidating and carrying out God's teaching, insisted on a theological position about divine power more stringent than even John Calvin's notable writing about the transcendent God. God's power and wisdom are completely different and grander than anything that people can understand or appreciate; in fact, only through direct revelation (that is, the Bible) can human beings even begin to understand anything about God.
The consequence of this thinking -- and the central delicate interpretation that Barth must provide -- is that there is barely any difference between sin and non-sin, between faith and non-faith. Given that sinful human beings are so fallen, so limited, and so ignorant, it is difficult to describe how mortals can act with any conception of good and evil that even approximates God's ultimate good and evil. In some ways, it appears that awareness of this human limitation is what separates faithful Christians from others, in Barth's analysis.
As a rather unabashed Calvinist on most matters of divine transcendence, I can appreciate Barth's approach in some ways, but it consistently undervalues humanity in a way that seems to diverge from the description of human beings created in God's image (Genesis 1) and the way that Jesus consistently approaches and teaches people in the Gospels. Still, the great gift for Christians of Barth's rigorous and persistent approach is the necessary reminder that our thinking is not God's thinking and we probably do not know even what we think we know, especially when we dare to speak of God.
With this in mind, it should be noted that reading Barth is not for the faint of heart or mind. He often approaches subjects with a density of prose, including paragraphs that can run for pages. Frankly, I also find that Barth is best read in small doses, lest one's eyes glaze over. Still, this influential theological approach demands understanding, assessment, and likely adaptation by modern Christians.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Book Review: "Congregation: The Journey Back to Church"
Congregation: The Journey Back to Church by Gary Dorsey (Viking, 1995), hardback, 400 pages
As a pastor of a congregation, I am sometimes asked, "What does your church do?" This has different meanings when asked by different people. If it is another pastor or church leader, it is a question about what makes the congregation I serve unique. If it is someone who does not have much experience with any church, it is probably rooted in curiosity about what goes on behind closed doors. (Needless to say, if it is someone who is worried about certain churches, they are listening for certain warning signs, such as speaking in tongues, handling snakes, or, worst of all, aggressively evangelizing anyone who shows the slightest interest. "By the way, I'm glad you asked... and I'll be by your home tonight to continue this conversation.")
Truthfully, it is a difficult question to answer honestly. While a congregation has a straight-forward focus -- we are a community that worships/follows God -- there are almost unlimited variations of how Christians live out such communal faith. In fact, this question seems almost like asking, "What does your family do?"
Despite the challenge, most congregations have an unspoken answer to this question. Somewhere, in the midst of worship services, Sunday School classes, pot luck dinners, committee meetings, mission trips and annual budget campaigns, there is a subconscious list of activities and nurtured relationships that are central to the identity of a specific congregation and their understanding of what they do: what they do for God, what they do for each other, what they do for those beyond themselves.
It can be almost impossible to explain the things on these lists in their entirety. Partially, it is because few people in any congregation are completely comfortable with the entire list; after all, one person's "cherished tradition" is another's "sacred cow." Mostly, though, this is because the web of relationships and motivations is both shadowy and complex.
Gary Dorsey, in his 1995 book, Congregation: The Journey Back to Church, attempts to demystify and describe the unique organism that is a Christian congregation. A journalist, Dorsey basically embeds himself in a specific congregation, First Church of Windsor, Connecticut, for a year. He attend most activities and conducts interviews with many in the congregation, including extensive ones with the three pastors on staff.
The result is a sympathetic portrait of an organization that exists to reach out to others, but is constantly fighting the resistance of those who insist that it also must serve the members. Certain key leaders are constantly worried about money, but this congregation has the ability to hire a consultant to guide the capital campaign. Alongside fellowship dinners, organizational meetings, spiritual programs and special services, there is also a low-level "turf war," as different individuals and groups in the congregation compete for space and time in the building, in the calendar, and in the attention of the staff and wider congregation.
There are disagreements, large and small, throughout the year, over such issues as the language used in worship, the annual stewardship campaign, and the associate minister's public campaign challenging city action on behalf of the homeless. There is uneasiness in the fairly intellectual and straight-laced congregation over recent efforts to introduce more spirituality-centered programs into the church, such as the hiring of a spiritual director and the activities of the healing prayer circle.
Against this backdrop, Dorsey documents a year in the spiritual journeys of several in the congregation, including the ministers. Someone who feels a call to mission work in Central America is encouraged and supported in a trip to the area for several weeks. A young mother, who feels somewhat different from others in the congregation, finds support and even emerges as a leader in her own right. And the pastors are a study in contrasts -- the senior minister apparently coasting toward retirement, but who also may be crazy like a fox in his approach to leadership; the older associate, a Yale-educated man who is struggling with his role in the congregation and questioning whether he should be a minister; and the younger associate, who works with outreach programs and sometimes appears to be only tangentially related to the life of the congregation.
Dorsey, despite attempts to simply be an observer, undergoes his own spiritual pilgrimage during the year -- as much due to his immersion in the life of the congregation as to personal challenges as he and his wife struggle to begin a family. This leads to a conclusion which is a personal testimony of the congregation Dorsey himself discovered and needed -- an ending dear to the heart of any pastor. His flowing words near the end of the book are, in many ways, a love letter to the promise and possibility of any congregation that nurtures people in their faith.
As a pastor of a congregation, I am sometimes asked, "What does your church do?" This has different meanings when asked by different people. If it is another pastor or church leader, it is a question about what makes the congregation I serve unique. If it is someone who does not have much experience with any church, it is probably rooted in curiosity about what goes on behind closed doors. (Needless to say, if it is someone who is worried about certain churches, they are listening for certain warning signs, such as speaking in tongues, handling snakes, or, worst of all, aggressively evangelizing anyone who shows the slightest interest. "By the way, I'm glad you asked... and I'll be by your home tonight to continue this conversation.")
Truthfully, it is a difficult question to answer honestly. While a congregation has a straight-forward focus -- we are a community that worships/follows God -- there are almost unlimited variations of how Christians live out such communal faith. In fact, this question seems almost like asking, "What does your family do?"
Despite the challenge, most congregations have an unspoken answer to this question. Somewhere, in the midst of worship services, Sunday School classes, pot luck dinners, committee meetings, mission trips and annual budget campaigns, there is a subconscious list of activities and nurtured relationships that are central to the identity of a specific congregation and their understanding of what they do: what they do for God, what they do for each other, what they do for those beyond themselves.
It can be almost impossible to explain the things on these lists in their entirety. Partially, it is because few people in any congregation are completely comfortable with the entire list; after all, one person's "cherished tradition" is another's "sacred cow." Mostly, though, this is because the web of relationships and motivations is both shadowy and complex.
Gary Dorsey, in his 1995 book, Congregation: The Journey Back to Church, attempts to demystify and describe the unique organism that is a Christian congregation. A journalist, Dorsey basically embeds himself in a specific congregation, First Church of Windsor, Connecticut, for a year. He attend most activities and conducts interviews with many in the congregation, including extensive ones with the three pastors on staff.
The result is a sympathetic portrait of an organization that exists to reach out to others, but is constantly fighting the resistance of those who insist that it also must serve the members. Certain key leaders are constantly worried about money, but this congregation has the ability to hire a consultant to guide the capital campaign. Alongside fellowship dinners, organizational meetings, spiritual programs and special services, there is also a low-level "turf war," as different individuals and groups in the congregation compete for space and time in the building, in the calendar, and in the attention of the staff and wider congregation.
There are disagreements, large and small, throughout the year, over such issues as the language used in worship, the annual stewardship campaign, and the associate minister's public campaign challenging city action on behalf of the homeless. There is uneasiness in the fairly intellectual and straight-laced congregation over recent efforts to introduce more spirituality-centered programs into the church, such as the hiring of a spiritual director and the activities of the healing prayer circle.
Against this backdrop, Dorsey documents a year in the spiritual journeys of several in the congregation, including the ministers. Someone who feels a call to mission work in Central America is encouraged and supported in a trip to the area for several weeks. A young mother, who feels somewhat different from others in the congregation, finds support and even emerges as a leader in her own right. And the pastors are a study in contrasts -- the senior minister apparently coasting toward retirement, but who also may be crazy like a fox in his approach to leadership; the older associate, a Yale-educated man who is struggling with his role in the congregation and questioning whether he should be a minister; and the younger associate, who works with outreach programs and sometimes appears to be only tangentially related to the life of the congregation.
Dorsey, despite attempts to simply be an observer, undergoes his own spiritual pilgrimage during the year -- as much due to his immersion in the life of the congregation as to personal challenges as he and his wife struggle to begin a family. This leads to a conclusion which is a personal testimony of the congregation Dorsey himself discovered and needed -- an ending dear to the heart of any pastor. His flowing words near the end of the book are, in many ways, a love letter to the promise and possibility of any congregation that nurtures people in their faith.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Book Review: "Lonely: A Memoir"
Lonely: A Memoir by Emily White (Harper, 2010), hardback, 352 pages
As a single young person who moved to a new city, I'm often asked if I'm lonely. After all, my immediate family lives elsewhere, my closest friends live elsewhere, my classmates and professional colleagues live elsewhere. The truth is that I'm not terribly lonely, partially because this is the third time I've moved to a new place where I didn't know anyone and partially because I quickly made friends in my new home.
However, there have been times in my life when I've been lonely, and I've known people who have been lonely. Through the years, I may have known more lonely people than I've realized at the time; after all, it's not something most people freely share, which is a testament to the social stigma that is associated with loneliness. After all, conventional wisdom suggests that if someone is lonely, they should make some friends and all will be well.
Emily White, in her memoir, Lonely, deliberately and firmly demonstrates that such conventional wisdom is wrong. Looking through her own life, which has included significant periods of loneliness, and drawing upon recent scientific studies and the personal experiences others shared with her, White attempts to demystify loneliness. In particular, she carefully draws upon recent research to show the distinctions between loneliness and depression.
On the whole, the book offers many insights into the forms of loneliness and possible avenues out of the deepest types of loneliness. With sometimes painful honesty, White describes how her loneliness, which dates back to her adolescence, undermined her professional career and her friendships as an adult. Sometimes these reminiscences are accompanied by subtle humor, as when she describes advertised "singles" activities in which she took part, with rather frustrating results.
The other components of the book are a bit of a mixed bag. The scientific research, which is mostly presented in the words of the researchers that White has contacted in interviews or correspondence, is enlightening, but sometimes feels a little drawn out and boring. The experiences of others, taken from comments they posted on White's blog where she began seeking out others who also were afflicted with loneliness, sometimes enrich the book's description of the various manifestations of loneliness, but also distract from the more complete exploration of loneliness in White's life.
Still, this is a noble effort to provide understanding of loneliness in modern life, both for those who suffer from loneliness and for those seeking to appreciate the challenges of loneliness better. Despite occasional dry patches of scientific description, the book is an engaging read, held together by White's compelling candor about her own journey.
As a single young person who moved to a new city, I'm often asked if I'm lonely. After all, my immediate family lives elsewhere, my closest friends live elsewhere, my classmates and professional colleagues live elsewhere. The truth is that I'm not terribly lonely, partially because this is the third time I've moved to a new place where I didn't know anyone and partially because I quickly made friends in my new home.
However, there have been times in my life when I've been lonely, and I've known people who have been lonely. Through the years, I may have known more lonely people than I've realized at the time; after all, it's not something most people freely share, which is a testament to the social stigma that is associated with loneliness. After all, conventional wisdom suggests that if someone is lonely, they should make some friends and all will be well.
Emily White, in her memoir, Lonely, deliberately and firmly demonstrates that such conventional wisdom is wrong. Looking through her own life, which has included significant periods of loneliness, and drawing upon recent scientific studies and the personal experiences others shared with her, White attempts to demystify loneliness. In particular, she carefully draws upon recent research to show the distinctions between loneliness and depression.
On the whole, the book offers many insights into the forms of loneliness and possible avenues out of the deepest types of loneliness. With sometimes painful honesty, White describes how her loneliness, which dates back to her adolescence, undermined her professional career and her friendships as an adult. Sometimes these reminiscences are accompanied by subtle humor, as when she describes advertised "singles" activities in which she took part, with rather frustrating results.
The other components of the book are a bit of a mixed bag. The scientific research, which is mostly presented in the words of the researchers that White has contacted in interviews or correspondence, is enlightening, but sometimes feels a little drawn out and boring. The experiences of others, taken from comments they posted on White's blog where she began seeking out others who also were afflicted with loneliness, sometimes enrich the book's description of the various manifestations of loneliness, but also distract from the more complete exploration of loneliness in White's life.
Still, this is a noble effort to provide understanding of loneliness in modern life, both for those who suffer from loneliness and for those seeking to appreciate the challenges of loneliness better. Despite occasional dry patches of scientific description, the book is an engaging read, held together by White's compelling candor about her own journey.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Book Review: "Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers"
Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, edited by William J. Carl III (Westminster John Knox, 2009), paperback, 192 pages
Being pastor of a church is a difficult thing to describe or understand, complicated because the demands and expectations of a good minister can vary widely from congregation to congregation. As such, ministry is as much an art as a science, if not more, meaning that good practice stems from both theological study and practical experience.
If ministry is indeed an art, wise counsel from thoughtful and long-time practitioners can be particularly useful, so that each pastor is not forced to learn every lesson through hard-fought personal experience. This is the assumption of several recent books on ministry, including Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, edited by William J. Carl III, president of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Gathering together noted pastors and seminary professors -- most of whom have previously served as pastors, as did Carl -- the book offers essays on ministry aimed at newer clergy serving congregations.
The subtitle reveals a particular focus of many of these essays on preaching. Perhaps this is to be expected of a book edited by someone who also serves as a preaching professor (or, indeed, of a Presbyterian educator, given the centrality accorded to preaching in the Presbyterian tradition). More likely, though, this is a recognition of the current state of ministry, where congregations hunger for good preaching and some pastors find preaching to be a weekly dread and almost all ministers find faithful preaching to be a continual challenge. (To be fair, this assessment is influenced by my own beliefs about the importance of preaching for effective ministry.)
By and large, the essays in this book offer great wisdom for approaching key aspects of preaching, including an attention throughout to the challenge of preaching regularly over a period of time. There is realistic advice on how to keep preaching when the well seems dry and also how the congregation should shape the sermons preached in that congregation over time. The most intriguing suggestion is offered by esteemed preacher Fred Craddock, who suggests that a minister should work to develop a "signature sermon," revolving around a particular passion, that is preached -- virtually unchanged -- once every year as a sort of anchoring vision for one's ministry and congregational leadership.
A few essays provide guidance on ministry more generally, with an eye towards faithfully and humbly shouldering what might be termed the "pastoral mantle." Despite the presence of much good advice, including a not-unexpected gem from Eugene Peterson, "Embracing the Church that God Gave Me," the essays fail to offer insights covering the breadth of congregational ministry beyond the pulpit.
This short-coming may disappoint those hungry for such comprehensive wisdom, but it is hardly a reason to dismiss this worthwhile book. Frankly, if a pastor were to ask me what one thing he or she should focus on first to improve their ministry, I would almost certainly suggest preaching, partially because of its visibility in the congregation, but more importantly because good preaching necessitates that the pastor come to know the people and the shared ministries in a congregation better, in order to apply the wisdom of the Bible to their lives. Best Advice provides solid counsel on how to do this and should be particularly helpful to those in the first years of their ministerial careers and those needing some encouragement in the time beyond.
Being pastor of a church is a difficult thing to describe or understand, complicated because the demands and expectations of a good minister can vary widely from congregation to congregation. As such, ministry is as much an art as a science, if not more, meaning that good practice stems from both theological study and practical experience.
If ministry is indeed an art, wise counsel from thoughtful and long-time practitioners can be particularly useful, so that each pastor is not forced to learn every lesson through hard-fought personal experience. This is the assumption of several recent books on ministry, including Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, edited by William J. Carl III, president of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Gathering together noted pastors and seminary professors -- most of whom have previously served as pastors, as did Carl -- the book offers essays on ministry aimed at newer clergy serving congregations.
The subtitle reveals a particular focus of many of these essays on preaching. Perhaps this is to be expected of a book edited by someone who also serves as a preaching professor (or, indeed, of a Presbyterian educator, given the centrality accorded to preaching in the Presbyterian tradition). More likely, though, this is a recognition of the current state of ministry, where congregations hunger for good preaching and some pastors find preaching to be a weekly dread and almost all ministers find faithful preaching to be a continual challenge. (To be fair, this assessment is influenced by my own beliefs about the importance of preaching for effective ministry.)
By and large, the essays in this book offer great wisdom for approaching key aspects of preaching, including an attention throughout to the challenge of preaching regularly over a period of time. There is realistic advice on how to keep preaching when the well seems dry and also how the congregation should shape the sermons preached in that congregation over time. The most intriguing suggestion is offered by esteemed preacher Fred Craddock, who suggests that a minister should work to develop a "signature sermon," revolving around a particular passion, that is preached -- virtually unchanged -- once every year as a sort of anchoring vision for one's ministry and congregational leadership.
A few essays provide guidance on ministry more generally, with an eye towards faithfully and humbly shouldering what might be termed the "pastoral mantle." Despite the presence of much good advice, including a not-unexpected gem from Eugene Peterson, "Embracing the Church that God Gave Me," the essays fail to offer insights covering the breadth of congregational ministry beyond the pulpit.
This short-coming may disappoint those hungry for such comprehensive wisdom, but it is hardly a reason to dismiss this worthwhile book. Frankly, if a pastor were to ask me what one thing he or she should focus on first to improve their ministry, I would almost certainly suggest preaching, partially because of its visibility in the congregation, but more importantly because good preaching necessitates that the pastor come to know the people and the shared ministries in a congregation better, in order to apply the wisdom of the Bible to their lives. Best Advice provides solid counsel on how to do this and should be particularly helpful to those in the first years of their ministerial careers and those needing some encouragement in the time beyond.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Book Review: "Leading Congregations through Crisis"
Leading Congregations through Crisis by Greg Hunt (Chalice Press, 2012), paperback, 176 pages
Many people are discouraged watching the news, where all too often the cliche, "If it bleeds, it leads," proves true. While many news media may focus on the negative, the unfortunate truth is that there are many instances of destruction and suffering to cover. Horrific tornadoes and earthquakes occur with little or no warning, while hurricanes and floods can leave billions of dollars in devastation in their wake. Fires and car accidents can instantly shatter a family, while acts of violence inflict physical and emotional wounds on entire communities.
In these situations, we rely on trained people to respond, offering security, provisions, and comfort after such tragedies occur. Such first responders are police, firefighters, EMTs, and groups such as the Red Cross and the National Guard. Less visible, but essential, is the response of religious leaders, particularly when the the tragedy directly affects a congregation.
Greg Hunt offers encouragement and instruction for pastors and church leaders to face such tragedies in his recent book, Leading Congregations through Crisis. As he describes at the outset, Hunt faced a significant tragedy in his pastoral ministry when a bus crash on a church youth trip claimed two lives. The aftermath of that fatal accident for the congregation, and a recognition of the lack of resources and training for clergy and church leaders in crisis response and management, led him to write this valuable book.
Building on this personal experience, Hunt conducted interviews with leaders of other congregations that have faced and responded to significant tragedies, which are shared in vignettes throughout the book. Among these are church buildings destroyed by fire and hurricane, gun violence on church property, and the fatal electrocution of a pastor during worship. From this, Hunt has crafted considerations for both the immediate and the long-term response to such crises.
The book is broken into three sections. The first part offers an overview; the second part lays out, in some detail, how congregational leaders should direct their response over time; and the third part offers specific lessons that are unique to the church. Hunt strives to make the book useful for both clergy and lay leaders, and in this he is mostly successful. I imagine, though, that while all will find the first two sections very helpful, if depressing to consider, the third part seems most helpful for clergy.
In clear and direct language, Hunt offers plenty of practical advice throughout the book. Whether explaining how to prioritize jobs in the immediate aftermath -- including how to delegate key responsibilities -- or laying out how to communicate well to the congregation and the media, he presents important considerations and logical step-by-step approaches. While he draws on leadership and crisis management resources, he insists that the church has a specific perspective on the response to tragedy that should be unique. In fact, the overview chapter on response, "Leadership, Management, and Crisis Care: Getting Them Right... Together," is a helpful way of blending leadership studies with the gift of the church, which Hunt crystallizes as always putting care of the people affected first.
In the final section, clergy can especially benefit from two significant observations that seem rooted in Hunt's personal experience. First, he reminds pastors to remember to look for God's presence in the "eye of the storm," which presents unique demands in worship leadership and pastoral care. Second, he observes that those pastors who are best prepared to lead in response to crisis are those who have practiced (and continue to practice) self-care, so they can face the stresses and responsibilities with resilience and hope, instead of being broken by them.
This well-written and well-presented book fills a need for churches. Despite the many types of tragedies that can occur within the life of a congregation, there are precious few resources available detailing how to effectively prepare and respond. Drawing on leadership insights and the best lessons of faith, and with a depth of insight reflecting his experience, Hunt has prepared a resource that deserves to be on bookshelves in the pastor's office and the congregational library.
Many people are discouraged watching the news, where all too often the cliche, "If it bleeds, it leads," proves true. While many news media may focus on the negative, the unfortunate truth is that there are many instances of destruction and suffering to cover. Horrific tornadoes and earthquakes occur with little or no warning, while hurricanes and floods can leave billions of dollars in devastation in their wake. Fires and car accidents can instantly shatter a family, while acts of violence inflict physical and emotional wounds on entire communities.
In these situations, we rely on trained people to respond, offering security, provisions, and comfort after such tragedies occur. Such first responders are police, firefighters, EMTs, and groups such as the Red Cross and the National Guard. Less visible, but essential, is the response of religious leaders, particularly when the the tragedy directly affects a congregation.
Greg Hunt offers encouragement and instruction for pastors and church leaders to face such tragedies in his recent book, Leading Congregations through Crisis. As he describes at the outset, Hunt faced a significant tragedy in his pastoral ministry when a bus crash on a church youth trip claimed two lives. The aftermath of that fatal accident for the congregation, and a recognition of the lack of resources and training for clergy and church leaders in crisis response and management, led him to write this valuable book.
Building on this personal experience, Hunt conducted interviews with leaders of other congregations that have faced and responded to significant tragedies, which are shared in vignettes throughout the book. Among these are church buildings destroyed by fire and hurricane, gun violence on church property, and the fatal electrocution of a pastor during worship. From this, Hunt has crafted considerations for both the immediate and the long-term response to such crises.
The book is broken into three sections. The first part offers an overview; the second part lays out, in some detail, how congregational leaders should direct their response over time; and the third part offers specific lessons that are unique to the church. Hunt strives to make the book useful for both clergy and lay leaders, and in this he is mostly successful. I imagine, though, that while all will find the first two sections very helpful, if depressing to consider, the third part seems most helpful for clergy.
In clear and direct language, Hunt offers plenty of practical advice throughout the book. Whether explaining how to prioritize jobs in the immediate aftermath -- including how to delegate key responsibilities -- or laying out how to communicate well to the congregation and the media, he presents important considerations and logical step-by-step approaches. While he draws on leadership and crisis management resources, he insists that the church has a specific perspective on the response to tragedy that should be unique. In fact, the overview chapter on response, "Leadership, Management, and Crisis Care: Getting Them Right... Together," is a helpful way of blending leadership studies with the gift of the church, which Hunt crystallizes as always putting care of the people affected first.
In the final section, clergy can especially benefit from two significant observations that seem rooted in Hunt's personal experience. First, he reminds pastors to remember to look for God's presence in the "eye of the storm," which presents unique demands in worship leadership and pastoral care. Second, he observes that those pastors who are best prepared to lead in response to crisis are those who have practiced (and continue to practice) self-care, so they can face the stresses and responsibilities with resilience and hope, instead of being broken by them.
This well-written and well-presented book fills a need for churches. Despite the many types of tragedies that can occur within the life of a congregation, there are precious few resources available detailing how to effectively prepare and respond. Drawing on leadership insights and the best lessons of faith, and with a depth of insight reflecting his experience, Hunt has prepared a resource that deserves to be on bookshelves in the pastor's office and the congregational library.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Book Review: "Acedia & Me"
Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life by Kathleen Norris (Riverhead, 2008), hardcover, 352 pages
Kathleen Norris, bestselling author of such well-received books as The Cloister Walk and Dakota: A Spiritual Biography, turns her poet's eye to the difficult subject of depression and spiritual emptiness in Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life. Struggling to accurately identify the emotion exactly, she turns to the earlier Christian idea of acedia, described by the Church father Evagrius as "the noonday demon."
Tracing the discussion of acedia through Christian writings, she explores this spiritual sin as it particularly affected monks seeking to pray the daily afternoon prayers. Often, such monks found their attention turn listless and unfocused, perhaps by hunger or fatigue, to the point that they did not care to pray; worse, they discovered that, at these times, nothing could encourage them to fulfill their calling to pray with any real emotional investment.
While the recent psychological term "depression" has largely eclipsed common usage of the term "acedia," Norris strongly believes that it accurately describes the noonday demon that significantly challenged her relationships and her writing. Going far beyond mere writer's block, she describes a persistent numbness against which she struggled to find the will to write.
Norris is a skilled writer and a sensitive memoirist. There is sophistication and nuance to her introspection, and the reflections offer a rich and subtle confluence of many emotions and ruminations on subjects like the nature and definition of sin and the impact of modern psychology on self-image and self-assessment.
For me, the book is most engaging when Norris applies these considerations to her marriage and its challenges, especially through sickness and health. One chapter title beautifully encapsulates the wisdom of Norris' approach: "The Quotidian Mysteries." In vignettes and tone, she considers the day-in/day-out necessities that sometimes left her feeling empty in her marriage, but which also eventually seem to have given the relationship with her husband David a deep meaning that continues after his death at only age 57. Despite its frequent tedium, its frustrations, and the frequent medical challenges described, she evokes unexpected beauty in the description of her own marriage.
Other parts of the book are less interesting, and many readers may find the early chapters -- which offer the bulk of historical context for the book's focus on acedia -- rather mind-numbing. While this is partly unfair, it is clear that Norris' explorations of acedia in her own life are more evocative than her attempts at clinical description of acedia in general. Still, the persistent reader is rewarded with several chapters of great beauty and insight.
Kathleen Norris, bestselling author of such well-received books as The Cloister Walk and Dakota: A Spiritual Biography, turns her poet's eye to the difficult subject of depression and spiritual emptiness in Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life. Struggling to accurately identify the emotion exactly, she turns to the earlier Christian idea of acedia, described by the Church father Evagrius as "the noonday demon."
Tracing the discussion of acedia through Christian writings, she explores this spiritual sin as it particularly affected monks seeking to pray the daily afternoon prayers. Often, such monks found their attention turn listless and unfocused, perhaps by hunger or fatigue, to the point that they did not care to pray; worse, they discovered that, at these times, nothing could encourage them to fulfill their calling to pray with any real emotional investment.
While the recent psychological term "depression" has largely eclipsed common usage of the term "acedia," Norris strongly believes that it accurately describes the noonday demon that significantly challenged her relationships and her writing. Going far beyond mere writer's block, she describes a persistent numbness against which she struggled to find the will to write.
Norris is a skilled writer and a sensitive memoirist. There is sophistication and nuance to her introspection, and the reflections offer a rich and subtle confluence of many emotions and ruminations on subjects like the nature and definition of sin and the impact of modern psychology on self-image and self-assessment.
For me, the book is most engaging when Norris applies these considerations to her marriage and its challenges, especially through sickness and health. One chapter title beautifully encapsulates the wisdom of Norris' approach: "The Quotidian Mysteries." In vignettes and tone, she considers the day-in/day-out necessities that sometimes left her feeling empty in her marriage, but which also eventually seem to have given the relationship with her husband David a deep meaning that continues after his death at only age 57. Despite its frequent tedium, its frustrations, and the frequent medical challenges described, she evokes unexpected beauty in the description of her own marriage.
Other parts of the book are less interesting, and many readers may find the early chapters -- which offer the bulk of historical context for the book's focus on acedia -- rather mind-numbing. While this is partly unfair, it is clear that Norris' explorations of acedia in her own life are more evocative than her attempts at clinical description of acedia in general. Still, the persistent reader is rewarded with several chapters of great beauty and insight.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Book Review: "Reading the New Testament for the First Time"
Reading the New Testament for the First Time by Ronald J. Allen (Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2012), paperback, 216 pages
For over a century, Gideons International has placed millions of Bibles in hotel rooms around the world and has distributed countless others, particularly pocket New Testaments, on college campuses, in prisons, and elsewhere. Part of the rationale for the effort is to evangelize, believing that some might become Christians simply by reading through the Bible on their own.
The practicality of this approach, though, is questionable, which may come as a surprise to those who learned Bible stories from parents and Sunday School teachers before they ever tried to read the scriptures on their own. For those who approach the Bible, especially the New Testament, without much religious background, it can be an intimidating text to read and understand.
Ronald Allen, a professor at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis, tries to offer an encouraging introduction in Reading the New Testament for the First Time. Clearly he believes that some people, at least in the American culture, will read the New Testament out of curiosity and might appreciate some help in understanding the ancient writings.
Personally, I find it rather odd to imagine there is much market for this book. While I'm sure there are people who would like to read the New Testament without pushy church folks scrambling to get them to join their congregations or tell them exactly what they're supposed to believe, I can't imagine them reaching for this book. Maybe they might seek out some form of The Bible for Dummies, but probably not a book from a religious publisher.
This is just as well. Whatever Reading the New Testament for the First Time might be, it is not a book for first-time readers of the Bible. It starts off reasonably well, with a brief and inviting introduction followed by a chapter explaining what a reader will encounter in the New Testaments (divisions into books, chapters, and verses; kinds of writings; how the New Testament was transmitted from ancient times to the present). After this, though, it quickly develops into a book that will likely confuse a new reader more completely than trying to read Matthew 1 in the King James Version.
Frankly, this was surprising, as I know that Allen has an excellent reputation for good teaching and writing. (Also, my colleagues who know him tell me he is a genuinely kind person.) But as a pastor, I found his approach consistently baffling, raising issues that seem mostly tangential, especially for first-time readers, and overlooking helpful context (maybe to keep the book short?) all too often. Worse, although Allen claims to write in a conversational way, "avoiding technical language," too often he seems more worried about colleagues criticizing him for oversimplification than offering clear (if oversimplified) entry points for new readers.
This is most apparent in Allen's persistent talk about "the Realm of God," in place of the Kingdom of God. While there are certain reasons to appreciate an attempt to use non-gendered language, and while it is also clear that American readers have little understanding of what a kingdom is, I find it inconceivable that this is the time and place for such language adjustment. If we are trying to make someone comfortable reading the New Testament for the first time, it is important to use the actual words they will find in their reading, especially something so often mentioned as the Kingdom of God. Allen's unwillingness to adjust his preferred language to meet his readers where they are is troubling; worse, this unwillingness furthers the presumed first-time reader's assumption that the New Testament might be too challenging to even begin.
Allen's ill-conceived intended audience makes Reading the New Testament for the First Time unhelpful for another group that seems more likely to purchase such a book -- a church study group seeking some friendly help in learning to read the Bible better. Most such readers would decide the book is not for them in the first chapter that explains things they already know; few would likely make it beyond chapter 2, which includes one of the oddest synopses of the Hebrew Scriptures that I have ever encountered.
Unfortunately, this book is a maddening, disheartening mess. While it is clear that Allen knows his subject matter, too often he has no real audience to share that knowledge with. He goes from defining seminary to asking his reader "to take a moment and write down what you think was at the core of Jesus' message" before beginning his introduction to the story of Jesus. If someone is looking for help in reading the New Testament for the first time, he or she is unlikely to find much here.
For over a century, Gideons International has placed millions of Bibles in hotel rooms around the world and has distributed countless others, particularly pocket New Testaments, on college campuses, in prisons, and elsewhere. Part of the rationale for the effort is to evangelize, believing that some might become Christians simply by reading through the Bible on their own.
The practicality of this approach, though, is questionable, which may come as a surprise to those who learned Bible stories from parents and Sunday School teachers before they ever tried to read the scriptures on their own. For those who approach the Bible, especially the New Testament, without much religious background, it can be an intimidating text to read and understand.
Ronald Allen, a professor at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis, tries to offer an encouraging introduction in Reading the New Testament for the First Time. Clearly he believes that some people, at least in the American culture, will read the New Testament out of curiosity and might appreciate some help in understanding the ancient writings.
Personally, I find it rather odd to imagine there is much market for this book. While I'm sure there are people who would like to read the New Testament without pushy church folks scrambling to get them to join their congregations or tell them exactly what they're supposed to believe, I can't imagine them reaching for this book. Maybe they might seek out some form of The Bible for Dummies, but probably not a book from a religious publisher.
This is just as well. Whatever Reading the New Testament for the First Time might be, it is not a book for first-time readers of the Bible. It starts off reasonably well, with a brief and inviting introduction followed by a chapter explaining what a reader will encounter in the New Testaments (divisions into books, chapters, and verses; kinds of writings; how the New Testament was transmitted from ancient times to the present). After this, though, it quickly develops into a book that will likely confuse a new reader more completely than trying to read Matthew 1 in the King James Version.
Frankly, this was surprising, as I know that Allen has an excellent reputation for good teaching and writing. (Also, my colleagues who know him tell me he is a genuinely kind person.) But as a pastor, I found his approach consistently baffling, raising issues that seem mostly tangential, especially for first-time readers, and overlooking helpful context (maybe to keep the book short?) all too often. Worse, although Allen claims to write in a conversational way, "avoiding technical language," too often he seems more worried about colleagues criticizing him for oversimplification than offering clear (if oversimplified) entry points for new readers.
This is most apparent in Allen's persistent talk about "the Realm of God," in place of the Kingdom of God. While there are certain reasons to appreciate an attempt to use non-gendered language, and while it is also clear that American readers have little understanding of what a kingdom is, I find it inconceivable that this is the time and place for such language adjustment. If we are trying to make someone comfortable reading the New Testament for the first time, it is important to use the actual words they will find in their reading, especially something so often mentioned as the Kingdom of God. Allen's unwillingness to adjust his preferred language to meet his readers where they are is troubling; worse, this unwillingness furthers the presumed first-time reader's assumption that the New Testament might be too challenging to even begin.
Allen's ill-conceived intended audience makes Reading the New Testament for the First Time unhelpful for another group that seems more likely to purchase such a book -- a church study group seeking some friendly help in learning to read the Bible better. Most such readers would decide the book is not for them in the first chapter that explains things they already know; few would likely make it beyond chapter 2, which includes one of the oddest synopses of the Hebrew Scriptures that I have ever encountered.
Unfortunately, this book is a maddening, disheartening mess. While it is clear that Allen knows his subject matter, too often he has no real audience to share that knowledge with. He goes from defining seminary to asking his reader "to take a moment and write down what you think was at the core of Jesus' message" before beginning his introduction to the story of Jesus. If someone is looking for help in reading the New Testament for the first time, he or she is unlikely to find much here.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Book Review: "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!"
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Young Adults Speak Out About Sexuality and Christian Spirituality edited by Heather Godsey and Lara Blackwood Pickrel (Chalice Press, 2011), paperback, 146 pages
At times when I feel especially honest, I will confess one of the reasons why I believe most teenagers and young adults are disaffected from Christian churches. I tick off three or four key issues that young people spend time and energy facing and then ask if the church ever directly speaks about those issues; usually, the answer is, "hardly ever."
At the top of the list of these key issues is sexuality and romantic relationships. While I'm not sure that young people spend as much time thinking about such things as conventional wisdom suggests -- 1 out of every 7 seconds -- I am confident that it is a key issue in their lives for many years. And despite the well-known Christian belief that God is love -- which is to say, God is the source, giver, example, and sustainer of love -- few churches ever explore love beyond fairly trite platitudes, at least as it relates to romantic love and sexuality.
In fits and starts, some people are trying to reintroduce the topic of romantic love and sexuality into religious conversation. One recent book on the subject, appropriately published in a series directed at teenagers and young adults, is Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Subtitled "Young Adults Speak Out About Sexuality & Christian Sexuality," the book offers ten essays that raise such issues as sexual education, casual sex, homosexuality, pornography, and infertility and consider what wisdom can be offered by Christian faith.
By far, the greatest strength of these essays is that they approach the delicate subject matter with directness, honesty, and appreciation of the discomfort that such issues cause many people. The ten contributors, most of whom are young ministers, offer reflections that are primarily personal testimonies, more interested in exploring personal approaches to these issues than in systematized assessments.
While I greatly admire the authenticity each writer brings, this approach leads to some unevenness between the essays, especially in how far they move beyond personal testimony. Given the sensitive subject matter for many readers, this disparity might lead some to be dismissive of the entire project, which would be unfortunate.
Consider how Christians teach the spiritual practice of giving, a sensitive subject that the church handles somewhat better than sexuality and romance. While some people offer powerful testimonies about how giving has positively impacted their lives, churches also share information about how giving affects those who receive the gifts and churches offer countless opportunities to give. Testimony, by itself, is not enough.
Still, Oh God... is to be commended for its real effort to start conversations about faith and issues related to sexuality. Those who disregard the book because of its limitations will miss the opportunities to read some of the stronger essays here, including Lara Blackwood Pickrel's wonderful presentation of embodied faith and Sunny Buchanan Riding's touching account of the challenges of infertility and the grief and loneliness that few in the church know how to comfort or even how to approach.
The church desperately needs to reintegrate this issue into the midst of its teaching and life -- or we will continue to allow others to define what love looks like. We need more books like Oh God... which directly confront these sensitive issues, and we need people to read them and talk about them seriously.
At times when I feel especially honest, I will confess one of the reasons why I believe most teenagers and young adults are disaffected from Christian churches. I tick off three or four key issues that young people spend time and energy facing and then ask if the church ever directly speaks about those issues; usually, the answer is, "hardly ever."
At the top of the list of these key issues is sexuality and romantic relationships. While I'm not sure that young people spend as much time thinking about such things as conventional wisdom suggests -- 1 out of every 7 seconds -- I am confident that it is a key issue in their lives for many years. And despite the well-known Christian belief that God is love -- which is to say, God is the source, giver, example, and sustainer of love -- few churches ever explore love beyond fairly trite platitudes, at least as it relates to romantic love and sexuality.
In fits and starts, some people are trying to reintroduce the topic of romantic love and sexuality into religious conversation. One recent book on the subject, appropriately published in a series directed at teenagers and young adults, is Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Subtitled "Young Adults Speak Out About Sexuality & Christian Sexuality," the book offers ten essays that raise such issues as sexual education, casual sex, homosexuality, pornography, and infertility and consider what wisdom can be offered by Christian faith.
By far, the greatest strength of these essays is that they approach the delicate subject matter with directness, honesty, and appreciation of the discomfort that such issues cause many people. The ten contributors, most of whom are young ministers, offer reflections that are primarily personal testimonies, more interested in exploring personal approaches to these issues than in systematized assessments.
While I greatly admire the authenticity each writer brings, this approach leads to some unevenness between the essays, especially in how far they move beyond personal testimony. Given the sensitive subject matter for many readers, this disparity might lead some to be dismissive of the entire project, which would be unfortunate.
Consider how Christians teach the spiritual practice of giving, a sensitive subject that the church handles somewhat better than sexuality and romance. While some people offer powerful testimonies about how giving has positively impacted their lives, churches also share information about how giving affects those who receive the gifts and churches offer countless opportunities to give. Testimony, by itself, is not enough.
Still, Oh God... is to be commended for its real effort to start conversations about faith and issues related to sexuality. Those who disregard the book because of its limitations will miss the opportunities to read some of the stronger essays here, including Lara Blackwood Pickrel's wonderful presentation of embodied faith and Sunny Buchanan Riding's touching account of the challenges of infertility and the grief and loneliness that few in the church know how to comfort or even how to approach.
The church desperately needs to reintegrate this issue into the midst of its teaching and life -- or we will continue to allow others to define what love looks like. We need more books like Oh God... which directly confront these sensitive issues, and we need people to read them and talk about them seriously.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Book Review: "American Grace"
American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us by Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell (Simon & Schuster, 2010), hardcover, 688 pages
If you were to ask people who are active in the life of their local congregation what a church is supposed to do, they probably would look back in puzzled silence. The boldest might offer that churches are supposed to introduce people to God and teach them about God in order to save their souls. But if you made the reasonable point that many, if not most, people in church worship already know a lot about God and salvation, these too would probably get a little fuzzy on what churches are supposed to do.
If, though, you pushed through the silence and the tentative answers, you probably would end up with some discussion of the church as a community of faith. (Some might even talk more intimately, using New Testament language, of a religious family of faith.) This is a good answer, given that most congregations strive to create an environment where people can deepen their relationships with God through shared worship, education, service, and fellowship.
The difficulty in putting this into words, however, stems from changes in most congregations over the past century. For many generations, a church was a central institution within a community, where neighbors would gather for religious events -- this is still the image of church most often depicted in movies and on television. In recent years, though, many cultural trends have altered this nature of the community in most churches, where people drive -- maybe as long as an hour -- to attend churches they choose to attend, passing countless other faith communities coming and going.
Religious leaders have been slow to explore the impact that these gradual cultural changes have on congregations and, more broadly, on religion in American life. Recently, though, Robert Putnam, a well-respected political science professor at Harvard University, has turned his attention to the subject. Drawing on years of research into the nature of political communities and the impact of communal associations on politics -- most famously in his best-selling book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community -- he collaborated with others, including Notre Dame professor David Campbell, to create an extensive survey to examine the nature of religious communities in the United States and the state of religion within the broader American culture.
The results of the extensive Faith Matters surveys, added to the findings of several other surveys over the past 50 years, and coupled with some onsite evaluations of several religious communities, provide the raw data undergirding Putnam's and Campbell's analysis in American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us. From this research, the authors describe trends and offer assessments in three growing areas: the nature of religious affiliation over the past 50 years, with significant attention to the growing number of interfaith relationships (romantic and otherwise) in American culture; the role of gender and ethnicity in religious practice; and the relationship of religion with political and communal affiliations.
In many ways, the findings of American Grace should not offer too many surprises to those who have been observing changes in religious groups over the recent decades. Conventional wisdom regarding the declining numbers of young people regularly attending worship services, the increasing involvement of women in leadership roles in religious communities, and the self-imposed racial segregation of most religious groups is generally confirmed by survey results. The depth and breadth, though, of the investigation offers key findings related to the impact of younger generations upon religious groups, the significant growth of people unaffiliated with any religious community, and the ever-increasing religious pluralism of the United States.
Since about 1990, Putnam and Campbell notice a sharp change in the involvement of those under age 30 in churches. In a nutshell, a sharply growing percentage of this generation have disengaged from religious institutions. With growing suspicion about religious authority, the uneasy relationship between church and state, and years of bad press, many of these people are not attending religious services and a noticeably higher percentage of this generation claim no religious affiliation or preference. The generation gap extends to those in the younger generation who do participate, in some way, in religious institutions, though: they have demonstrably more permissive attitudes on social issues, such as homosexuality, premarital sex, and interracial marriage, than religious people of older generations.
More shocking than this shift in the culture wars, though, is the growing percentage of "the Nones" in all age groups. While over 25% of those born since 1982 claim no religious preference on recent surveys, they are not alone. In the 1950s, barely anyone responded to questions about religious preference with "none of the above." Since 1990, though, the percentage of such survey responses has more than doubled to about 16% as of the 2008 survey. This dramatic rise in less than a generation is certainly a warning flag to religious institutions, many of whom are struggling with declining participation and financial support already. Interestingly, many of these "Nones" are not unbelievers, as demonstrated by questions about the existence of God or heaven (though the surveys identify a growing number of atheists and agnostics too), but they are disaffected and detached from religious institutions.
If the impact of the younger generation and the growing number of "Nones" seems threatening to most religious people, there is some comfort in Putnam and Campbell's exploration of religious pluralism in the American context. The influx of religious immigrants over the past 50 years could have inaugurated a period of crisis for American religion, where religious differences led to conflict and division. Instead, the surveys show a general toleration, and growing acceptance, of such differences. Largely, this is due to the ever-increasing number of people who develop interdenominational and interfaith relationship with neighbors, co-workers, and as part of their extended families. While there is evidence pointing to certain types of division, there is much more data demonstrating acceptance and cohesion, which is the finding that inspired the book's title, American Grace.
While the tone of the book is generally optimistic, this thorough study offers a fairly nuanced vision of religion in the United States during the past 50 years, offering data across a wide range of subjects, including politics, gender, ethnicity, and age. It amply demonstrates that religious belief and practice are much more diverse than usually presented in either recent journalism or popular entertainment, but it also clearly shows that cultural perceptions have had noticeable impacts on religious belief and practice. Those interested in such a comprehensive picture of religious practice will find American Grace fascinating, frustrating, and ultimately insightful.
If you were to ask people who are active in the life of their local congregation what a church is supposed to do, they probably would look back in puzzled silence. The boldest might offer that churches are supposed to introduce people to God and teach them about God in order to save their souls. But if you made the reasonable point that many, if not most, people in church worship already know a lot about God and salvation, these too would probably get a little fuzzy on what churches are supposed to do.
If, though, you pushed through the silence and the tentative answers, you probably would end up with some discussion of the church as a community of faith. (Some might even talk more intimately, using New Testament language, of a religious family of faith.) This is a good answer, given that most congregations strive to create an environment where people can deepen their relationships with God through shared worship, education, service, and fellowship.
The difficulty in putting this into words, however, stems from changes in most congregations over the past century. For many generations, a church was a central institution within a community, where neighbors would gather for religious events -- this is still the image of church most often depicted in movies and on television. In recent years, though, many cultural trends have altered this nature of the community in most churches, where people drive -- maybe as long as an hour -- to attend churches they choose to attend, passing countless other faith communities coming and going.
Religious leaders have been slow to explore the impact that these gradual cultural changes have on congregations and, more broadly, on religion in American life. Recently, though, Robert Putnam, a well-respected political science professor at Harvard University, has turned his attention to the subject. Drawing on years of research into the nature of political communities and the impact of communal associations on politics -- most famously in his best-selling book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community -- he collaborated with others, including Notre Dame professor David Campbell, to create an extensive survey to examine the nature of religious communities in the United States and the state of religion within the broader American culture.
The results of the extensive Faith Matters surveys, added to the findings of several other surveys over the past 50 years, and coupled with some onsite evaluations of several religious communities, provide the raw data undergirding Putnam's and Campbell's analysis in American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us. From this research, the authors describe trends and offer assessments in three growing areas: the nature of religious affiliation over the past 50 years, with significant attention to the growing number of interfaith relationships (romantic and otherwise) in American culture; the role of gender and ethnicity in religious practice; and the relationship of religion with political and communal affiliations.
In many ways, the findings of American Grace should not offer too many surprises to those who have been observing changes in religious groups over the recent decades. Conventional wisdom regarding the declining numbers of young people regularly attending worship services, the increasing involvement of women in leadership roles in religious communities, and the self-imposed racial segregation of most religious groups is generally confirmed by survey results. The depth and breadth, though, of the investigation offers key findings related to the impact of younger generations upon religious groups, the significant growth of people unaffiliated with any religious community, and the ever-increasing religious pluralism of the United States.
Since about 1990, Putnam and Campbell notice a sharp change in the involvement of those under age 30 in churches. In a nutshell, a sharply growing percentage of this generation have disengaged from religious institutions. With growing suspicion about religious authority, the uneasy relationship between church and state, and years of bad press, many of these people are not attending religious services and a noticeably higher percentage of this generation claim no religious affiliation or preference. The generation gap extends to those in the younger generation who do participate, in some way, in religious institutions, though: they have demonstrably more permissive attitudes on social issues, such as homosexuality, premarital sex, and interracial marriage, than religious people of older generations.
More shocking than this shift in the culture wars, though, is the growing percentage of "the Nones" in all age groups. While over 25% of those born since 1982 claim no religious preference on recent surveys, they are not alone. In the 1950s, barely anyone responded to questions about religious preference with "none of the above." Since 1990, though, the percentage of such survey responses has more than doubled to about 16% as of the 2008 survey. This dramatic rise in less than a generation is certainly a warning flag to religious institutions, many of whom are struggling with declining participation and financial support already. Interestingly, many of these "Nones" are not unbelievers, as demonstrated by questions about the existence of God or heaven (though the surveys identify a growing number of atheists and agnostics too), but they are disaffected and detached from religious institutions.
If the impact of the younger generation and the growing number of "Nones" seems threatening to most religious people, there is some comfort in Putnam and Campbell's exploration of religious pluralism in the American context. The influx of religious immigrants over the past 50 years could have inaugurated a period of crisis for American religion, where religious differences led to conflict and division. Instead, the surveys show a general toleration, and growing acceptance, of such differences. Largely, this is due to the ever-increasing number of people who develop interdenominational and interfaith relationship with neighbors, co-workers, and as part of their extended families. While there is evidence pointing to certain types of division, there is much more data demonstrating acceptance and cohesion, which is the finding that inspired the book's title, American Grace.
While the tone of the book is generally optimistic, this thorough study offers a fairly nuanced vision of religion in the United States during the past 50 years, offering data across a wide range of subjects, including politics, gender, ethnicity, and age. It amply demonstrates that religious belief and practice are much more diverse than usually presented in either recent journalism or popular entertainment, but it also clearly shows that cultural perceptions have had noticeable impacts on religious belief and practice. Those interested in such a comprehensive picture of religious practice will find American Grace fascinating, frustrating, and ultimately insightful.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Book Review: The Messiah of Morris Avenue
For some time, I have been posting reviews of many books I read online in various places. I have decided to start posting religious-related book reviews here. The first is a novel that offers a modern retelling of the gospel.
The Messiah of Morris Avenue: A Novel by Tony Hendra (Henry Holt, 2006), hardcover, 256 pages
A few years ago a popular song asked, "What if God was one of us?" For many Christians, the question causes us to imagine how the Gospel stories would be different if Jesus were to be born in our lifetime, into a world of air travel, microwave cooking, and electronic communication so different from ancient Judea. Tony Hendra accepts this challenge in "The Messiah of Morris Avenue," retelling the story of Jesus if he were to be born in the United States sometime in the near future.
Told from the perspective of a jaded journalist -- in a future where newspapers have been replaced with online sources that pursue tabloid, TMZ-style stories at the local level -- the novel focuses on the investigation of nebulous miracles attributed to a young Hispanic man named Jay. In search of this man described as wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the cynical reporter Johnny Greco encounters the small group closest to the purported wonderworker, a collection of unemployed outcasts, most who had served time in prison — drug addicts, prostitutes, and petty thieves.
Although skeptical, Greco is intrigued by the mysterious teacher, eventually meeting with Jay. While not convinced that he is Jesus reborn, the reporter believes him to be sincere, something quite unusual in the context of cynical and cutthroat reporting that has come to define Jay's industry. As might be expected, the growing notoriety of the Hispanic wonderworker attracts the attention of the religious powers that be, including the dominant televangelist James Sabbath. The resulting conflict parallels the narrative arc of the Gospels, if with slightly more attention and empathy given to the religious elites.
Hendra generally stays close to the contours of the original stories about Jesus, using wonderful ingenuity to create a modern equivalent to the story filled with marvelous details, such as the federal lethal injection facility he imagines. As might be expected of an author who previously edited humor magazines, there are many laughs, including several witty barbs against the Religious Right bogeyman that serve as the novel's high priest. However Hendra, sensitively and rightly, is more interested in a search for true faith wherever it might be found; this marvelous book is one such fruitful search.
The Messiah of Morris Avenue: A Novel by Tony Hendra (Henry Holt, 2006), hardcover, 256 pages
A few years ago a popular song asked, "What if God was one of us?" For many Christians, the question causes us to imagine how the Gospel stories would be different if Jesus were to be born in our lifetime, into a world of air travel, microwave cooking, and electronic communication so different from ancient Judea. Tony Hendra accepts this challenge in "The Messiah of Morris Avenue," retelling the story of Jesus if he were to be born in the United States sometime in the near future.
Told from the perspective of a jaded journalist -- in a future where newspapers have been replaced with online sources that pursue tabloid, TMZ-style stories at the local level -- the novel focuses on the investigation of nebulous miracles attributed to a young Hispanic man named Jay. In search of this man described as wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the cynical reporter Johnny Greco encounters the small group closest to the purported wonderworker, a collection of unemployed outcasts, most who had served time in prison — drug addicts, prostitutes, and petty thieves.
Although skeptical, Greco is intrigued by the mysterious teacher, eventually meeting with Jay. While not convinced that he is Jesus reborn, the reporter believes him to be sincere, something quite unusual in the context of cynical and cutthroat reporting that has come to define Jay's industry. As might be expected, the growing notoriety of the Hispanic wonderworker attracts the attention of the religious powers that be, including the dominant televangelist James Sabbath. The resulting conflict parallels the narrative arc of the Gospels, if with slightly more attention and empathy given to the religious elites.
Hendra generally stays close to the contours of the original stories about Jesus, using wonderful ingenuity to create a modern equivalent to the story filled with marvelous details, such as the federal lethal injection facility he imagines. As might be expected of an author who previously edited humor magazines, there are many laughs, including several witty barbs against the Religious Right bogeyman that serve as the novel's high priest. However Hendra, sensitively and rightly, is more interested in a search for true faith wherever it might be found; this marvelous book is one such fruitful search.
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