Kuypers and Milbanks and Wrights, Oh My! (VanDrunen Review I.2)

April 28, 2010
Before reviewing the rest of chapter 1, I want to voice my appreciation for VanDrunen’s tone in this section.  Unless I am missing hidden barbs of underlying sarcasm (which may well be the case, since I have become rather fuller of the milk of human kindness since moving over here than I was in my American Reformed days), his general tone throughout is patient, measured, carefully qualified, and quite respectful of his opponents.  I am particularly gratified by the way he summarizes figures such as N.T. Wright, John Milbank, and Stanley Hauerwas, all of whom tend to be polarizing figures, oft misrepresented, especially in American Reformed circles.  He represents them fairly and seems to have genuine respect for the insights and contributions they bring to the theological discussion, even where he disagrees with them.  He clearly thinks that neo-Calvinism is deeply flawed, yet he never acts like they are stupid, wicked, irrational, or incoherent.  In all of these respects, I found this book much easier reading than I’d expected, having been prepared by my experience with Darryl Hart for a lot of snarkiness.

Van Drunen concludes his definitional section by saying that, “Through these two doctrines, therefore, the older Reformed writers rooted political and cultural life in God’s work of creation and providence, not in his work of redemption and eschatological redemption through Jesus Christ.”  This looks to me like something of a thesis statement for the book, so we should keep it in mind as we go through.  I have questions about the coherence of this statement, though, because what does it mean to “root” political life in God’s work of creation vs. Christ’s work of redemption...or rather, what would it mean to do otherwise?  Who, we may ask, wants to “root” political and cultural life in Christ’s work of redemption, suggesting that this is their initial grounding?  Obviously political and cultural life precede Christ’s work of redemption, so it would be wrong to “root” them in it.  Is VanDrunen not rather objecting to those who might seek to root Christ’s work of redemption the way Christians should act in political and cultural life in--i.e., who say that Christians ought to engage in such spheres as redeemed people and emissaries of Christ’s work?  Or is he objecting to those who would say that political and cultural life, though rooted in creation, should be transformed by Christ’s redemption?  I suspect that this is really what he is saying, and if so, I must confess that I have trouble understanding how and why anyone would want to object to that.  

He then moves to state the troubling situation that moves him to write, which is that Reformed people now reject natural law as Catholic and the two kingdoms as Lutheran, or worse, reject both as Enlightenment ideas that encourage secularization and the privatization of religion.  I happily admit that I am among those with such skepticism, with the latter kind of skepticism in particular.  I am certainly in favor of some kind of natural law, but the concept is a dangerous and ambiguous one, that can easily turn into Enlightenment accounts of reason; as for “the two kingdoms”--well, there are many different versions of this, but it is hard for me to imagine one that does not dangerously limit the social reach of the Church’s work.  

Before proceeding any further, VanDrunen clarifies the potentially slippery language of “social” and “culture”: the former refers to “the common life that people live together in their various economic, political, and legal (etc.) relations”; the latter to “the vast range of activities that constitute human life.”  Not particularly precise, but what can you expect with terms like these?  Interestingly, he remarks, “This is not to say, of course, that religious bodies are not social and do not have their own cultures which may influence and be influenced by the world at large”--that’s just not what he’s planning to talk about.  I’m skeptical whether this crucial angle can be so casually left out, but we’ll see.

He now turns to look at the plight of current Reformed social thought, which he sees as having been largely captivated by the errors of Kuyperianism (or neo-Calvinism).  He takes a page to give a portrait of this view, a portrait which he clearly intends to be critical, but which it’s hard to see why.  For these folks “the foundation for cultural activity is not so much the creation order as it is being preserved as it is God’s redeeming the creation order and moving it toward its eschatological goal of a new heavens and new earth” (4).  Again, we could bicker about whether “foundation” is the right word, but surely, now that God is redeeming the creation order, we should live in light of that work of redemption and not pretend it isn’t happening?  “Rather than two kingsdoms, these writers affirm one kingdom of God.  This kingdom, encompassing all human activities and institutions, was originally created by God in perfect righteousness (with potentialities that were to be actuated in history), was corrupted through the fall into sin, and is now being redeemed from corruption and advanced toward its eschatological goal.  Christians are not to dismiss any area of life as outside of God’s redemptive concern, and thus are to seek to transform all activities and institutions in ways that reflect the kingdom of God and its final destiny” (4).  I’m no Kuyperian, but I’d certainly identify with that description.  It’s a pity that this is primarily a historical, rather than theological work, because I’m really curious to see exactly where and why VanDrunen would disagree with that picture.  Obviously, there will be disputes about exactly how and to what extent certain activities and institutions will be transformed, and which ones should be done away with entirely, and so on, but to suggest that the general statement--that all of life is to be redeemed--is false seems to me to be a doubting of the gospel.  VanDrunen ends this summary by offering what he thinks are particularly ludicrous examples of this way of thinking that he has encountered: “ordinary Reformed people found goat-breeding socieites on a ‘Reformed basis’ and wrestle with how to develop college football programs in accordance with a Reformed world and life view” (4).  Now, perhaps these need not be conceived on a narrowly sectarian Reformed basis, but these seem to me like two excellent activities to try to carry out in a distinctively Christian way.  Why not, Dr. VanD.?  

In any case, he concludes, these ideas are fundamental shifts from Reformation teaching, since Calvin, for instance, “identified only the church with the redemptive kingdom of Christ and denounced the claim that civil government was a part of Christ’s kingdom” (4).  I have a suspicion that the word “kingdom” is being used ambiguously here.  Undoubtedly Calvin did want to talk about the Church, not the State, under the heading of the “kingdom of Christ,” and yet, if you had asked, “Are all areas of human life, including civil government, under Christ’s lordship and should they be lived out in light of his redemption?” it is hard for me to imagine that he would say no.  But, we shall see.  

On the next page, VanDrunen says that this shift is particularly odd because the Reformers, though insisting on two kingdoms doctrinally, did not seem to live out this doctrine, happily embracing a close union of Church and State; and neo-Calvinists, though denying the two kingdoms, seem happy to live in modern pluralist societies.  He is right to point out hypocrisy among some neo-Calvinists, though I don’t think it necessarily lies exactly where he sees it, but I’ll leave that point alone for now.  I’ll also register my opinion that the reason he sees a contradiction between the Reformers’ doctrine and their practice may well be because he has misconstrued their doctrine.  But there will be plenty of opportunity later on to investigate that.

Now, things start to get really interesting.  On pages 7-10, he ties in the current craze for neo-Calvinism with various other crazes on the modern theological scene which, in his mind, betray similar concerns.  First he lists the New Perspective on Paul, and figures such as N.T. Wright, who have protested against readings and applications of Paul that separate his “theological” concerns from his social and political concerns.  Second he lists Stanley Hauerwas and those who have drawn inspiration from the Anabaptist tradition (and from Alasdair MacIntyre, he notes!), in his rejection of secular liberalism and call for a uniquely Christian culture.  He mentions also Brian MacLaren and the emerging church as “similiar in many important respects.”  Third, he mentions Radical Orthodoxy, with its radical critique of non-Christian thoguht and attempt to “give a thick, Christian account of all of reality.”  All of these, he thinks, are somewhat related phenomena, all of which have been sympathetically adopted by many neo-Calvinists.  

Now, the cynic will be quick to point out that perhaps the only common thread in these three sets of ideas is that they are un-VanDrunenian.  That is to say, perhaps VanDrunen commits the classic error (so beloved of Reformed folk) of establishing his position as the measuring-rod, and then lumping together every form of position that differs from him as “the same sort of thing.”  He singles out the criterion: “Do they think that Christianity applies to all of life?” and casts all those who answer “Yes,” (who it seems to me should be the vast majority) into the same mold.  But, to be fair to VanDrunen, we should admit that there is a great deal of affinity between these three strands, both one with another, and with at least some forms of “neo-Calvinism.”  VanDrunen does a good job on picking up on some of the crucial points of contact--a skepticism about the powers of independent secular reason, an antagonism toward the state, the idea that the Church must embrace its role as a society against surrounding societies.  Nevertheless, I think he has to pave over a lot of important differences, both within each strand and between them, to treat the NPP, Hauerwasianism, Radical Orthodoxy, and Kuyperianism as species of a genus...perhaps classes of an order, to continue the taxonomical analogy.  

But, I must move on, because some interesting comments follow this section.  VanDrunen worries that “the considerable comfort it [neo-Calvinism] may feel within these broader discussions may in fact betray significant internal tensions that it experiences just below the surface and challenge it to reckon with its present claims in light of the claims of the earlier Reformed tradition” (10).  Intriguing...tell me more.  He turns to the issue of violence as an example.  The three strands just mentioned, he says, tend to “press these points more consistently than many recent Reformed writers.  For they have observed that Scripture portrays the kingdom of Christ as a non-violent, peaceful kingdom which does not wield the sword.  Therefore Christians, in witnessing for this kingdom and expressing its way of life in all of their activities, ought to pursue non-violent means of acting in the world....Christians exist as the church and for the world not as a community complementary to the state, but as an alternative to the state....[Here he says, which I appreciate, that this school of thought seems to have a very strong case from a biblical perspective]  Yet if this is the case then why have so many contemporary Reformed writers comfortably identified the stte as a good part of God’s creation, as another area of life subject to redemption, as an arena in which Christians do well to participate?...Those reviving the peace traditions of the radical reformation therefore challenge contemporary Reformed social thought to carry through more consistently one of its own most basic premises (the need for Christians to express the way of Christ’s kingdom in all of their activities) and join them in a thoroughly non-violent lifestyle.  But for Reformed Christians to do so would in fact be no small step in ironing out a minor inconsistency.  To do so would constitute a major break with their heritage.” (11).  Whew!  Thus he lays down the gauntlet to the Kuyperians-- “Either get serious about this faith for all of life business and become pacifists, or drop the idle talk!”  Now, it ought to be pointed out that this is of course a bit unfairly oversimplistic of VanDrunen.  After all, straightforward pacifism is not the only alternative, as should be clear from the fact that many of the thinkers who fall broadly within the three strands above are not pacifists--e.g., N.T. Wright.  So far as I know, Milbank isn’t either, though correct me if I’m wrong.  

However, I think VanDrunen is dead-on in his main point.  Kuyperians do a lot of talking about transforming everything in light of Christ’s redemption, and yet this transformation starts to look more like a light makeup job when it comes to the state.  Indeed, Kuyperians do not necessarily accept the central social role that these other three strands give to the Church, and thus leave matters of authority, violence, law, etc. relatively unchanged by the new creation begun in Christ.  This is why, I think, that many neo-Calvinists who have encountered Wright, Milbank, or Hauerwas are feeling the need to revise or reject their Kuyperian sphere sovereignty, and why the rest are finding themselves in something of a pickle.  

So VanDrunen has certainly found a weak spot, and he pounces on it eagerly...a bit over-eagerly, as it turns out.  The neo-Calvinists, he thinks, resist pacifism because of the lingering remnants of the two kingdoms theory that they still hold to, and they must be made to see this inconsistency, so they can be convinced that, in order to avoid the error of pacifism, they have to embrace two kingdoms theory in its entirety.  “Because the early Reformed tradition affirmed two kingdoms of God, the civil and the spiritual, it could posit the full legitimacy of the the coercive state as a God-ordained institution without running afoul of Biblical teaching” (12).  As VanDrunen seeks to portray it in these pages, there are two basic options--either adopt the two kingdoms theory--the idea of two radically different but parallel realms of God’s work--and you can maintain some role for a sword-bearing state, or else you will have to reject the state altogether.  This is another classic Reformed move--it’s either my way or the highway.  There are a plethora of highly-respected ethicists and political theorists out there who would protest against VanDrunen’s neat bifurcation, insisting that there are theological ways of allowing for a limited continuing role for civil authority without adopting VanDrunen’s full-fledged two kingdoms view.  As just mentioned, I think N.T. Wright and John Milbank would fit this description, as would figures like Oliver O’Donovan, Charles Mathewes, and Peter Leithart.  

Before moving this portion of the review onto its much-needed close, I want to critically comment on the paragraph with which VanDrunen closes this section.  “In their capacity as citizens of the spiritual kingdom of Christ, Christians insist upon non-violence and the ways of peace, refusing to bear arms on behalf of his kingdom; in their capacity as citizens of the civil kingdom, they participate as necessary in the coercive work of the state, bearing arms on its behalf when occasion warrants.  As citizens of the spiritual kingdom they have no patriotic allegiance to any earthly nation; but as citizens fo the civil kingdom a healthy patriotism is certainly possible” (13).  To VanDrunen this sounds like a neat, tidy solution to the problem; to me it sounds like schizophrenia.  Do we really not see a problem with describing a Christian in terms of this kind of dual citizenship?  This is no doubt a question that will continue to crop up.  Then VanDrunen says, “As citizens of the spiritual kingdom they can make radical critiques of all theories, practices, and institutions that are not submissive to the redemptive lordship of Christ; but as citizens of the civil kingdom they can acknowledge the significant benefits that the state brings for earthly life, enjoy the amazing products of human culture, and seek common cause with non-Christians on a variety of social projects” (13).  This kind of rhetoric annoys me.  The implication here is that, without the two kingdoms theory, those seeking to radically critique secular society could not “enjoy the amazing products of human culture, and seek common cause with non-Christians on a variety of social projects.”  This is simply not true, and ignores the many careful ways in which Christian thinkers have delineated the ways in which a Christian may be in the world without being of the world. 

In the final few pages of the chapter, VanDrunen gives an outline of how he proposes to proceed, and summarizes the contents of each chapter, so I don’t see any need to interact with those pages here.  So, on to chapter 2 in the next review.  Hopefully now that we’ve got a lot of this foundational stuff out of the way, it will go much faster.

Wright out of Sight

So you may have been wondering what happened to Wright and Justification. Well, so am I. I had it with me on Thursday, I put it in the stroller while we were walking around Portobello, and it hasn't been seen since. We did leave the stroller unattended for awhile when we were on the beach, so I suppose someone really wanted that book and stole it. So...I'll just be reviewing O'Donovan for now. But, that's probably plenty; there's no way to have good discussion about the reviews if I'm putting too much up at once. So I'm going to hold off till tomorrow to put up part 4 of the review. I've replied to the comments on the last three posts (as well as on David's comments about socialism), and if anyone wants to follow up on those, go ahead.
Also, in case you're wondering why I haven't engaged Wilson's critiques of O'Donovan yet (I think I said I was going to), it's because he doesn't make any until chapter 7, which he calls, "phantasmagoria of non sequiturs." I'll leave you to judge for yourselves when we get there whether you think that is an accurate judgment. I certainly don't think it is--I think it follows very much from what he says in the other chapters, but part of demonstrating that means going through the previous chapters carefully to discern his argument. Just so you know, though, what I am seeking to respond to in these reviews, here's how Wilson diagnoses the book: "a classic illustration of why the moderate and progressive segments of the Anglican communion in the UK, Canada, and the US are all sick unto death." This is a very grave charge--to say that not only the progressives, but even the moderates in the Anglican Communion--even evangelical moderates like O'Donovan--are "sick unto death." Sick they may be, as are all our denominations, but only God knows whether it is a sickness that will end in death. For my part, I think O'Donovan's work suggests strongly that it will not. I'm interested to know what others think, though.

Wright vs. Wilson, part 1: Preface-Chapter 2

Ok, here's part one of my review of Wright's Justification, and Wilson's interaction with it. Note that I am simultaneously posting piece-by-piece thorough reviews of two different books, Wright's and O'Donovan's, in both of which I will be using Doug Wilson's critiques as something of a foil (though much more in the Wright reviews). So don't get confused. :-)

Preface:
In the Preface, Wright points out what he sees as three major pressure points in the debate over his view of Paul. First, he says, is the issue of the nature and scope of salvation—since the Reformation, Protestants have had a tendency to focus on individual salvation, rather than corporate and cosmic salvation. Second is the issue of the means of salvation—here Wright thinks that the Protestant tradition has often given insufficient attention to the work of the Spirit, and this is why it has been so paranoid of attributing significance to works flowing out of faith. Third is the question of the meaning of the word justification. Here, Wright thinks that there are four major themes key to justification that Piper and others in his tradition have tended to sideline: 1) Jesus’ Jewish Messiahship, 2) the covenant with Israel, 3) the divine lawcourt setting of justification, and 4) eschatology, which gives attention to final justification.

So far, I am altogether with him.

In reviewing Wright’s preface, Wilson only has a couple of concerns. One that he raises is “But I (and Piper, and many other opponents of the NPP) agree with these things.” That is to say, when Wright says that one disagreement is over the nature and scope of salvation (cosmic, or basically individual), Wilson insists that postmillennialists are going to agree with Wright entirely on this, but that doesn’t mean that they will agree with him on justification. Therefore, Wright is wrong to act as if this is a crucial hinge. Wilson raises this sort of objection repeatedly, and while I think it has some force at times, I think Wright might well reply, “Well then, my point is that you’re being inconsistent—you haven’t allowed this postmillennial, cosmic thinking to properly penetrate your soteriology.”
The real test isn’t whether you can say, “Oh, I’m postmil too!” but whether that postmillennialism has actually worked its way consistently through your system. If both Wright and Wilson agree on the scope of salvation, but disagree over the nature of justification, then likely this means that there is an inconsistency in one or the other’s system. And in the course of this review, I shall try and see if it is in Wright’s (I’ve certainly never been able to find it there before).

Then Wilson concludes by saying, “So the hinge that I mentioned earlier is not really "why do Reformed types not see this"? The hinge is "why did Saul of Tarsus not see it?" In order for us moderns to understand the story of Israel rightly, we must understand the biography of Saul rightly. This is what Piper sees, and what Wright does not. This is the hinge upon which everything turns. And so we will return to this theme again and again.”
At this point, I am not at all sure what he is getting at with this remark. But since he plans to return to it again and again, hopefully I will figure it out.

Chapter One, “What’s All This About, and Why Does it Matter?”
Wright begins by telling a parable, in which he likens the present dispute to that of a heliocentrist who cannot seem to convince his friend that the Earth goes around the Sun, instead of vice versa. The stubborn friend takes him out to see the sunrise, thinking that this proves his point. Wright’s point in this parable goes beyond mocking the seeming inability of the two paradigms in the Pauline dispute to come to grips with one another at all; the point he is making is that, in his understanding of justification, we are revolving around God; in many Protestant versions, God seems to be revolving around us—our individual salvation is the focus. Wilson called this parable “egregious,” though I couldn’t really see why.

Wright then goes on to make a number of key preliminary points. First is to insist, once again, that he is not part of “the New Perspective”—it doesn’t exist. There are radical differences among the key figures, and accusations that ignore that are rendered ineffectual from the start. Then, he says that a major problem with the Old Perspective, it seems to him, is that it’s simply trying to put together the jigsaw puzzle of Paul’s thought with half the important parts missing. Wright wants to try to supply some of those missing or ignored pieces. Here he reemphasizes in particular the Old Testament covenant background which is so crucial to Paul’s thinking, and which, especially in Lutheran thinking, but to a surprising degree also in Reformed, has been largely ignored.

In Wilson’s review of chapter one, we find more of the same concerns as he voiced in the preface. Wilson repeatedly objects, “But why are you criticizing the opposition for these errors (individualistic, pietistic soteriology, etc.) Plenty of folks on the opposition repudiate those errors just as much as you do!” Again, it is possible that Wright is making unfair generalizations, but, we should note that he does have an awful lot of opponents he is responding to, and he has to make some generalizations. More importantly, though, the question is whether the folks he’s opposing, even if they have repudiated in theory pietistic soteriology, have nevertheless unconsciously aided and abetted it, or remained closer to it than they realized. This, I think, is Wright’s point. It’s as if an American were to say to an Englishman, “Oh, well you’re over there in Europe, aren’t you?” The Englishman might remonstrate that there was a big channel of water separating England from the rest of Europe, and England made a big point of distinguishing themselves from the “Continentals.” The Englishman would have a point…there is a difference. But the main point of the American—that geographically and culturally, England was much closer to Europe than it was to America—would remain valid.

Wilson then takes Wright to task for suggesting that the large-scope, redemptive-historical perspective was some grand new thing, when it was rather a standard Reformed emphasis. This is something of a fair complaint, though again, I think Wright would say that, standard emphasis or not, it was always incompletely applied. Wilson does offer a bit of an excuse for Wright--that in the Anglican setting, and in academia, where Wright is writing, these things have been quite ignored—and I think that’s an important point in Wright’s defense. Wright is writing very much against a particular backdrop he is familiar with, and is too unaware of other potential backdrops, but the same criticism applies to any writer, certainly including Wilson himself.

Wilson then returns to the enigmatic point he raised in reviewing the Preface:
“Why did Abraham get it, and Saul did not get it? It was because Saul, even though he was up to his neck in covenant boundary markers, did not have faith…Wright is very clear that personal faith and piety are good things, and are most necessary. He says, "Salvation is hugely important" (p. 7). But what he does not seem to see is that personal faith and piety are a hermeneutical necessity also.”
I confess that I am as bamboozled here as I was the first time Wilson raised this point. I was not aware that Wright had ever denied that Saul was unconverted before…well, his conversion…or that he had denied that personal faith and piety are necessary. I shall certainly read on to see what Wilson is getting at here.

Chapter Two, “Rules of Engagement”
In chapter two, Wright sets out the method he intends to use throughout his study of Paul. First, he says, exegesis, not systematic theology, has to be the engine driving the whole thing. “Scripture does not exist,” he says, “to give authoritative answers to questions other than those it addresses.” We must look not merely for answers in Scripture, but first seek to discern what questions the text itself is trying to ask and answer.

Likewise, it is important to let the whole Pauline corpus be equally authoritative, rather than privileging certain portions, like Romans and Galatians, and using them as a grid through which the other epistles must be forced.

Second, Wright notes that it is crucial to establish the historical context in which Paul would have been writing, and the backdrop against which his writings must be understood. This would seem to be a “No, duh” point, but many NPP critics have complained that it depends too much on extra-Biblical sources to determine the thought-world of the Biblical writers. If we do not investigate the 1st-century context, it is not as if we will simply interpret the text purely on its own terms—as if that were possible, but rather, we will import another context within which to try to make sense of the letter—that of the 16th-century, for many Protestants.
Again, hardly anything revolutionary here. From where I’m sitting, so far, so good. What about Wilson, though?

Wilson’s chief objection in this chapter is to Wright’s omission of the Pastoral Epistles in his listing of the Pauline corpus. Here, I think, Wilson makes something of a mountain out of a molehill. First of all, Wright does not list the epistles with the announcement “Here is the Pauline corpus”; rather, he simply says, “We must listen not only to Romans and Galatians, but also to the two Corinthian and Thessalonian letters, and also to Philippians, and not least to Ephesians and Colossians.” This clearly does not say that Paul did not write the Pastorals, only that they aren’t particularly relevant to Wright’s purposes for this discussion. Now, if Wright does not accept the Pauline authorship of the Pastorals, that is scarcely surprising, because hardly anyone in New Testament studies these days does; which also means that Wright may well accept these as Pauline, but recognizes that he has to pick his battles, so he doesn’t make a point of it.

Wilson, though, thinks this issue quite important, because it is one of Scriptural authority, and also (here it comes again) because the Pastoral epistles have a fair bit to say about “Paul’s unconverted state prior to the road to Damascus.” I’m still waiting to get the importance of this.

At one point in the chapter, Wright makes the point that we need to avoid reading our theological categories into Paul, when they’re simply not there in the text. For example, he quotes J.I. Packer to the effect that while “the imputation of Christ’s righteousness” is not discussed by Paul, the concept is there, and we can read it back into the text. Wright is (in my mind, rightly) skeptical of this as an imposition of extra-Pauline categories. Wilson has this to say: “ I am with Packer on this, but with this proviso. This meaning is not something that has to be teased out of what Paul actually does say, but is rather a meaning that is capering all over the text of Romans, waving its arms and beckoning to sinners. In this way it is like the phrase faith alone. The meaning is flagrantly there, while the actual phrase is not (except in James, to be in that sense denied). God's covenant righteousness is seen in His provision of an Adam who did it right, an Adam who obeyed on our behalf the way the first Adam did not. That obedience is mine because God considered or reckoned it to be mine. Take this away and the architectural structure of Romans collapses in a heap. Much more on this later.”

Here, I suspect there may be some talking past one another. I do not think that Wright would necessarily disagree with Wilson’s last sentences—but Wright would insist that the proper category for understanding this is union with Christ, not imputation. I’m sure we will come across more to illuminate the contours of this dispute in later chapters.

Wilson then points to a “contrast in paradigms.” He quotes Wright saying that exegesis must be first and foremost in debating about Paul, and then says, “No, it is not exegesis first, but Christ first. Christ is preached and proclaimed from the Scriptures first. Then comes faith and baptism. Then after that comes the exegesis.” Now, this seemed to me almost like a joke at first, like when someone asks you what you favorite book is, and then, hearing your answer, reply, “What? It’s not the Bible?” Wilson goes on to elucidate this remark a bit when he says that exegesis must be done from a standpoint of faith, not Enlightenment ideals of rationalism. “In other words, is true faith necessary to true exegesis?” he rhetorically asks. But here, I can’t help but feel sure that Wright would agree, and am somewhat baffled as to why Wilson chooses to belabor this particular point.

Finally, Wilson makes a good point when he notes that Paul tends to use the same word in multiple senses in the same passage, and so we should not put too much stock in exegetical arguments that depend on consistency of meaning. However, Wright is also right to have pointed out that we should beware introducing equivocation in the use of a term in a tightly-reasoned line of argument. Deciding which principle to follow in a specific case of exegesis is where the rubber meets the road, and it will be interesting to see how this disagreement of emphasis works out in the exegetical section of the book.

Wright or Wrong?

Yes, I know, this pun is getting really really old in Reformed circles. But blog post titles are hard, you know. I'm just setting out to read N.T. Wright's new book Justification: God's Plan and Paul's Vision, in which he seeks to respond summarily to all of his critics, including the slightly deranged ones here in the US who've been leaping up and down in inarticulate alarm for the past decade.

It is a well-known fact (at least in my own wee circles) that my erstwhile professor, the Moscow pastor-pugilist Doug Wilson, has not found Wright altogether to his taste on these matters, and has not hesitated to say so repeatedly in a series of blog posts he labels "N.T. Wrights and Wrongs." Having often wondered exactly what the good Pastor Wilson could find to object to in Wright's work on Paul, I have finally decided to get to the bottom of it.

Thankfully, Wilson’s observations on Wright, whatever one may think of his conclusions, are based on a thorough, chapter-by-chapter interaction. So I won’t be prejudiced in Wright’s favor, I plan to read through Wilson’s review of each chapter before reading Wright, and then I’ll hopefully have the time to put up a few remarks on both up here. I state this intention up front, because publicly pledging to be so thorough may assist me when I grow impatient, as I am sure to do. This whole issue has not been tremendously interesting to me for a few years, ever since I first heard the good Bish explain himself on the topic at Auburn Avenue and said to myself, “Well, that makes perfect sense, and I never heard anything so fine about Paul. What’s all the fuss about?” (Don’t worry, I did do a bit more research than that, but that did mostly clinch it) But, in my circles, it continues to be a fuss, so I suppose I need to take the time to see if there’s any good reason why.

Evaluating Wright's Call for Global Justice (a response to Doug Wilson)

Doug Wilson has recently drawn considerable attention to N.T. Wright’s remarks, towards the end of Surprised by Hope, about the urgent call for global justice, in particularly, to redress the abominable oppression of Third World Debt. In response to Wright’s fairly brief remarks in that book, Wilson unleashed a barrage of no less than 15 posts over the previous two months (see www.dougwils.com), essentially hammering on the same themes over and over again. Last month, Wright finally responded to these and similar criticisms with a short summary defense which can be found here: http://www.ntwrightpage.com/Wright_Debt.htm. Wilson responded to that (albeit very insufficiently, in my opinion, on his blog recently).
This interchange has served to bring into sharp relief this whole question about the Church’s duty to seek global justice, a question that is urgently relevant to the Reformed Church, and indeed the whole American Church, today. So I would like to make a few observations and raise a few questions, though I will not seek to cross-examine every statement that was made. Though I believe N.T. Wright is substantially correct on these issues, my purpose here is not to attack Doug Wilson per se. However, I do want to suggest that he doth protest too much, and to defend N.T. Wright from some accusations that I think are unwarranted. Also, I think it is important that we examine the potential pitfalls in some of the lines of argument that Wilson brings up.

The crucial question here, in my mind, is this: Which side of this argument does the Reformed Church here in America need to hear more, Wright’s or Wilson’s?
That is to say, even if I were to concede that all of Wilson’s criticisms were on the mark, that Wright had gone too far with his agenda, and all that, I would still be very concerned about the way in which Wilson had addressed the issue. Is the problem in Reformed churches today zealotry or complacency? Well, quite frankly, our Reformed churches couldn’t care less about global justice, the oppression of the poor, or all the problems that the Old Testament prophets so loudly inveigh against. Even if Wright goes too far, his is a voice which needs to be heard and paid attention to in our Reformed churches. By speaking so loudly against Wright’s call for global justice, Wilson runs the risk of simply reinforcing the complacency we find in our churches when it comes to these issues. Of course, Wilson says repeatedly that he isn’t trying to encourage complacency, but I fear nonetheless that complacency may be a by-product of some of his arguments

Though Wilson speaks at great length, his claim is fairly straightforward: Wright may be right about the fact of the problem, and the need to address the problem, but it’s a very complex problem, and Wright’s solution is simplistic and shows that he knows nothing about economics. Unfortunately, I would contend, Wilson nowhere spells out a clear defense either of the proposition that it’s a highly complex problem or that Wright’s solution is simplistic. So, at least pending a detailed and clear defense, I must take issue with these claims.

First, I want to address the charge against Wright. While Wilson insists that his answer is simplistic, it does not appear that this rests on any more than the fact that certain summary utterances of Wright’s on this topic (such as in Surprised by Hope) have been simplistic. However, I would be very surprised if more thorough statements of his views would not reveal a very well-thought-out position. Everything he’s ever written on every other issue would suggest this. Of course, he is not perfect, but, at least he is an exceptionally thorough scholar who prefers to leave absolutely no stone unturned. If any claim he makes appears to be simplistic, it usually turns out that he has backed up that claim with dozens of pages of argument elsewhere in his writings. Our assumption, until proven otherwise, should be that Wright has probably done his homework when he speaks out on an issue. This is particularly the case when it is an issue that he is passionate about, and has spoken about and argued about for years, such as this issue of Third World Debt. Furthermore, Wright’s recent response to Wilson demonstrates that he is well-acquainted with the details of the issue. You may argue that Wright is wrong, but you may not insist that he is naïve or is speaking before thinking, as Wilson seems to repeatedly insist.

This reasonably leads us to question why Wilson would make this claim, why he would suppose that Wright, so thoughtful and thorough about every other issue, would suddenly start talking foolishness on this issue? I actually used to think the same thing about Wright, so I think I might know one reason why, though of course I can only speak for myself. It’s because his statements don’t seem to fit our particular view of economics, so we assume that he must just not know anything about economics. Of course, all this means is that he doesn’t buy into the American capitalist ideology, which we blithely assume must be the only economics there is. “He doesn’t know economics,” we claim, as if capitalism were simply a fact of nature, like gravity. But it’s not, it’s an ideology, which we must repent of if we are to begin to look at justice and poverty through Biblical eyes. I have a bit more to say on this in my conclusion.

Now, what about Wilson’s claim of complexity—that this is obviously much too complex a problem to begin proposing solutions? Well, I would like to ask why this is just such a complex problem, so complex that we simply cannot begin to take action on it right now? Of course it is complex—it’s not just like requiring your six-year-old son to return the candy bar to the convenience store he just stole it from. But why is it cripplingly complex? Well, Wilson says, because we need to take everything into account. It’s not as if there’s solutions for a problem like this—rather, there are tradeoffs. That is to say, if you try to fix this one thing, you’ll create a problem somewhere else. This may be a fair point (though, of course, this is true of everything in life to some extent, but does not mean we should never take action to fix a problem), but what precisely are these terrible tradeoffs? What Wilson says is that if you forgive the debt, you’ll simply keep dictators in power and make the problem worse (there are a couple of other difficulties he points out, but this seems to be the biggest one).

He doesn’t really spell out the argument for this claim, but I would guess it would look something like this: things are so bad in these countries that the dictators are only barely clinging to power. Pretty soon, the people, tired of poverty, will rise up against them, and, then, presumably, things will get better (though I’m not sure how we can assume this, if they still have the debt burden). If we forgave the debt, however, the country would have plenty of resources for the dictator to feed upon and stay in power indefinitely, thus putting any improvement in their condition further off.
This scenario may be plausible, but it doesn’t seem much more plausible than the opposite—namely, that the only reason the dictators stay in power is that the people are too downtrodden and hungry to take any action, but that, if they were more prosperous, they would begin to find ways to reform the government. So, I’m not certain he’s wrong here, but, before dismissing Wright for failing to consider economic realities, we should do some thorough and documented study on what these economic realities are. From Wilson’s posts, though his claims may be accurate, he gives no concrete evidence from such study. In fact, the only concrete testimony on the issue is provided by Wright, who cites a number of examples demonstrating that Wilson’s prediction is false; in fact, the opposite is the case—that is, that countries that have experienced debt relief have seen rapid and very visible improvements.

Another claim worth considering is Wilson’s repeated warning against the danger of “keeping the tyrants in power.” He never really specifies what tyrants he’s talking about. Of course, there are tyrannical dictators in Africa, but the situation is not what it was thirty years ago. Sure, we hear a lot about Robert Mugabe, but that simply proves the point—if every ruler over there were a tyrant, Mugabe wouldn’t get so much press. As it is, most of the countries over there, though not under ideal government, are moving toward fairly representative governments, and are not the property of all-controlling dictators. Wright points this out in his response to Wilson.

But it seems there is another, more important point to be made in response to claims such as Wilson’s, even if all his warnings were to prove well-grounded: if we have a clear personal moral duty toward a person or group of people, their presumed response should not change our duty. If I have a neighbor with a drinking problem, and I stole $2,000 from him years ago, and am now feeling guilty about it, I cannot refuse to make restitution on the basis that he might use the money for his drinking habit. My sin is clear, my moral duty is clear, and only after I’ve fulfilled it am I in a position to look for ways to help my neighbor address his drinking problem. This debt-relief question may not be quite such an open-and-shut case, but it’s close.
In several of his posts, Wilson seems to lump together this debt relief with things like giving food aid to these countries. This is not necessarily accurate. In the case of debt relief, we are not simply doing a nice thing for these countries, not even simply doing a Biblically-mandated nice thing, but making restitution for our own sins. As Wright points out in his response, these countries weren’t simply taking a loan out from the bank—they were the victims of predatory, intentionally enslaving lending by our countries. We have a duty to repent and redress this injustice.

The root issue here is not whether the problem is complex—indeed, there are complexities, and Wilson raises other potential difficulties worth discussing—but how complexity is being appealed to. Is complexity being brought up in order to sort through it and get on with a solution, or is it being brought up as a substitute for action? That is to say, is complexity simply a shield for complacency? I am not suggesting that Doug Wilson intends to advocate complacency—he expressly says the contrary—but that appears to be the likely effect of his remarks. If someone is passionately concerned to fix a problem, they will only bring up complexity in order to set to work unraveling it and clearing a way for a solution. Wilson has not yet appeared to do that. If Wright is correct that this is a problem that urgently needs solving, our reaction should be, “Well, there’s a lot of difficulties involved here, but let’s see how we can start working through some difficulties.” It will not do to simply insist that there are difficulties, and Wright needs to do his homework, without ourselves doing the homework to show exactly where the difficulties lie.

While some of Wilson’s points need consideration and discussion (and I’ve attempted to address some of them), raising objections in the manner and tone that Wilson has may have the effect of discouraging, rather than encouraging people to solve this issue and help the needy. Whatever Wilson’s true intentions, the reader cannot help but come away with the impression that Wright is thoughtfully and passionately concerned to implement the gospel mandate, while Wilson is content to leave us with the reassurance that we’d better sit back and wait for some realistic agenda to appear.

“Then He will say to those on the left hand, ‘Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry and you gave me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger and you did not take me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’
“Then they also will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to You?’
“Then He will answer them, saying, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’
“And these will go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into everlasting life.”

Yes, we should be prudent, we should be thoughtful, but we should fear this condemnation enough that we never use that as an excuse for inaction. After all, Christ never says, “Depart from Me, you cursed, for I was needy, and you did not take all the necessary economics courses before proposing a solution for Me.”

I have one other note to make on the appeal to prudence in the face of complexity.
We must take care that this be an appeal to Biblical wisdom, not worldly wisdom, in the face of complexity. We must remember that the “foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” If an appeal to think through the issues more simply means to act in light of contemporary economic wisdom, then I fear we will stand condemned. This is not to say we should blindly pursue self-destructive policies, but that we should carefully examine our motivations for calls to be “sensible” in our search for solutions.

Again, my purpose here is not to “take on” Doug Wilson, because his response to Wright is not unique, but is fairly typical in our circles. But I have come to believe that we in Reformed circles need to be shaken up a bit and brought to terms with the mandate for justice that Wright is espousing, and, as postmillennialists, we should believe that effective action is possible. I hope that this discussion stimulates those in our communities, whichever “side” they are on, to take this issue seriously and find opportunities to make Biblical relief of the oppressed a reality in our world.