Just in case you needed something over which to weep and gnash your teeth...

I ran across this web posting almost by accident. Check it out: it is an Iraqi Christian blog, but reproduces photos of a military rally held at a Baptist church in Kentucky.

I think it is especially shocking given how much we purport to scrupulously maintain separation of church and state, and decry the eliding of faith and politics that we claim to see in Islam. Ironically, to the degree that I understand Islam -- and I don't claim it is much -- they actually have rationales internal to their tradition which would underwrite Islamic government. In fact, it is the outside imposition of Western-style "secular" governments which dissolved the Islamic Empire (at least in the Islamic memory and imagination), and have brought about the sorts of problems and disparities that we find causing so much trouble today.

I'm not entirely sure that the Christian tradition underwrites the sort of "separation" (and I really must use quotation marks here) of church and state that we claim to have here in America. But I am much more certain that the "secular" state values it, and is more than happy to transgress that line when it is convenient, and insist on respecting it when that is convenient.

There was a time when Christians were prohibited from serving in the military...now we are thought of as prime targets for recruitment. Since when did blind obedience to the State, blood-thirstiness, and willingness to kill others when so instructed, become Christian virtues? Even for those Christians not inclined to pacifism, who would countenance fighting a defense war, or a conflict which satisfied the criteria of "just war" -- how can we so eagerly embrace a war which seems motivated by opportunistic expansion of empire? Can war for the protection -- or expansion -- of consumer markets be far behind?

John Howard Yoder used to hang a poster on his door where he taught which read "a modest proposal: that all the Christians of the world refuse to kill other Christians." Some students would come up to him with righteous anger, claiming that this was typical, disgusting Christian self-regard. His response would be "Hey, it's a start." If American Christians and Iraqi Christians (or Christians anywhere) would start by refusing to kill each other, we would have to find other means of operating in the world.

Stanley Hauerwas, in an essay compiled in one of his books, made the (typically controversial) claim that homosexuals (as a class of people) are more virtuous than Christians (as a class of people). His basis for this claim was the fact that the military was dubious about whether gays could serve effectively, but did not seem to doubt that Christians could kill people and break things when so ordered.

I know this post has rambled around more than most, but the photos and church bulletin made me want to gag and cry at the same time. Even for those Christians not inclined to pacifism -- and I suppose I am in a minority here -- it seems that this kind of uncritical mixing of overt military promotion and Christian fellowship ought to raise some very serious questions about what difference it makes to follow Jesus as Lord.

God have mercy on us all.

Argumentation and Evidence I: church marketing followup

In a previous post on marketing and the church I made several claims, such as that the secular practice of marketing was a version -- a nihilistic version -- of the sort of revivalism that was popular in the nineteenth century, particularly in the Second Great Awakening. I further made the claim that the church ought to reject secular marketing practices, since they are a secular and nihilistic version of a dubious (and likely heretical) development in the church. (Or, if you're not so confident that revivalism is a dubious or heretical development in the church, I'm willing to make a weaker claim that, at least for those churches which eschew revivalism, marketing should not be embraced as it presupposes an ecclesiology which is at variance with their own.)

Peter pushed me to define church marketing and I put him off. I thought I would get to it later that week, but, well, things piled up as they tend to do. So here at last is a rough-and-ready outline of what I mean.

First, what I don't mean: I don't mean that evangelism is to be rejected. Certain forms of it might lean over into church marketing as I mean it, and should be examined carefully, but evangelism itself takes many, many forms and has been a key part of the Christian faith since the beginning. Most any reader of Gower Street who calls him- or herself a Christian is so by virtue of the church's proclamation of the good news: even if one grew up in the church, then one's parents, grandparents, or some previous generation lost in the mists of time heard the good news in one form or another and left whatever they previously knew to become part of the church.

Straightforwardly, although somewhat narrowly, church marketing would be forms of evangelism (usually corporate evangelism, corporate meaning "as a body" not "industrial"), which self-consciously employ the tactics and strategies of secular marketing, especially to the degree that the practices and categories of that marketing submerge the practices and categories of the Christian story. For example, in the book God is Not..., one of the chapters critiqued the idea that God is a capitalist, and specifically took aim at the book Jesus CEO: Using Ancient Wisdom for Visionary Leadership. This seems like a straightforward submerging of Christian categories to marketing categories (not "Messiah" or "Lord" but "CEO" or "entrepreneur"). There are many other books out there which have advocated using secular marketing techniques to advance the church's mission; although they aren't always as obvious about shifting categories like this, they do uniformly state that marketing is simply a neutral (and by implication, unproblematic) means to a chosen end.

Not as straightforwardly or obviously, but more broadly, church marketing is treating the Christian faith as a means to something else, commodifying or objectifying it into something that we might acquire as individuals for any reason (or no reason). In this scheme, church becomes one more thing/activity that we fit into our lives, perhaps for the sake of having a "complete life" or being "respectable" (though less of that these days). This means, too, that those who reject church attendance on the grounds of being "too busy" are buying into this mindset.

Or again, if Christian faith is seen as primarily about "eternal life", that is, with whatever happens after this life, and such faith is seen largely in terms of "eternal security" then the faith is taken up as a means to something else. Conversely, if Christian faith is seen as primarily about life here and now, that is, with how it can contribute to the liberation of people in their material situation and achieve justice and equity, then the faith is taken up as a means to something else. Of course, Christianity has important things to say about each of these topics, here and the herafter. But if the faith is taken up as a means to something else, then that implies that it might be discarded as soon as a better means is found -- perhaps Marxism or capitalism better achieves justice and equity; maybe Scientology or a stoic materialism better tackles the issue of the afterlife; it might be that joining the country club or the Kiwanis better establishes you as a respectable citizen. Yet this is utterly inimical to Christianity; the commitment and life envisioned by the Christian faith goes beyond a tentative allegiance based on achievement of certain results.

In fact, I would argue that seeing Christianity as a "religion" is a chief cultural indicator of something gone wrong. We seem to think we know what "religion" is -- that it's personal, that it's about the afterlife or "god", that it's a commitment one elects to take up (or not) -- and that its coexistence alongside other cultural institutions such as democracy or capitalism (or constitutional monarchy or communism) is unproblematic, because one is "religion", another is "politics" and the other is "economics". (I strongly suspect that this is true for other so-called religions, too: I think this category mistake is manifestly at the root of our (American) complete failure to understand Islam, for example. But I will allow adherents of those other "religions" to make their cases.)

This has gone further afield than I originally intended. To pull it back to the nonobvious sense of church marketing, give an example, and summarize: if Coca-Cola comes up with a new product -- Raspberry Coke, say -- they can market it as a commodity (with all of the advertising falsehoods that we are accustomed to: be popular, be sexy, be satisfied). If no one likes Raspberry Coke, they go back to the drawing board and come up with something new because the new product was a means to an end, the end being the company's (shareholders') profit. But even if Raspberry Coke is a hit, it doesn't change anyone's life and requires nothing of a person beyond buying it (shucks, you don't even have to drink it!). Brand loyalty is quaint and valuable to the company, but really has no genuine commitment behind it. Beyond the lies used to advertise it, there is no shape of a life associated with it.

On the other hand, the church is committed to -- lives and dies by -- the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Christian life. We can't go back to the drawing board and come up with something new, nor are we interested in some end outside of that faith (profit, for example). Our medium is our message, or to reverse McLuhan's dictum, our message is our medium. The Christian faith is something with implications for all areas of our lives, not merely an hour or so on Sundays; or maybe better, it is a life. Unlike buying a Coke, becoming a Christian is demanding and wonderful and is the only thing which ultimately satisfies. (God help me, I've created a slogan!) The Christian faith is (in a non-vicious sense) totalizing and any advertising or marketing of it -- perhaps because of the medium itself, but also because of the practice's background -- makes it into something else, which is a betrayal.

+ + +

Just so that you know that I know, I still need to give a thumbnail sketch of the history of marketing, an overview of revivalism (especially the Second Great Awakening), show connections (or at least strong similarities) between the two, and explain why the sacred/secular division of the world is so problematic. I should also probably outline why the notion of means being neutral is so perilous, and give an historical account of the development of that idea, too. Have I already told the history of the term "religion" and why it's such a problem? If not, I should. Also, some account of the conundrums and viciousness of individualism would be helpful. When will I find time? I have no idea, but stay tuned.

Word on the Street: What if God wasn't one of us?

Word on the Street is Gower Street's book review department

A review of God Is Not: Religious, Nice, One of Us, an American, a Capitalist , ed. by D. Brent Laytham. Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press. 2004. 152 pp. 14.99 paper.

It is sometimes remarked that sacred cows make good hamburgers. In this slim volume, six authors set out to show that the same is true of golden calves.

There is a long tradition in the church of apophatic theology, a kind of negative theology which cautions that any purely univocal speaking of God tends to verge into idolatry. This is a natural implication of the Christian doctrine of creation ex nihilo and the Judeo-Christian insistence that God radically transcends and is other than that creation (and hence, ultimately unable to be represented in human images). This sort of theology tends to be iconoclastic, questioning what might seem to be settled or comfortable notions of who God is.

This volume, in six chapters, sets out to do just such a theology for the church today. The first five chapters of the book take on five of what the authors think are “golden calves”, subjecting these notions to withering analysis. The final chapter puts forward a more constructive account on the grounds that, for Christians, negative theology ought to be balanced by positive (analogical) affirmation of who God is.

The first chapter features Rodney Clapp with his usual keen insight on popular culture. He cautions Christians to be actively discerning in their engagement with popular culture, not because it is evil or to be rejected (“Following what might be called the logic of the incarnation…the Christian can marvel at and praise specific, actual culture of many sorts, including the most common or ordinary” P.26), but because it is neither perfect nor infallible. Put plainly, some is good, some bad. Given this mixed nature he counsels a case-by-case engagement with the elements of popular culture.

In another stark, bracing chapter, Steve Long challenges the idea that God is "nice", locating this aberration in the spread of a culture of therapy, promoted by a clericalism that he characterizes as “a monstrous hybrid of the Grand Inquisitor and Mickey Mouse.” (43) Against this he paints the triune God of Christian tradition, who is not nice, but who is kind and loving.

Michael Baxter, a professor at Notre Dame, takes on the idea that God is an American in his chapter, whose subtitle is “Why Christians Should not Pledge Allegiance to ‘One Nation Under God’”. He particularly focuses his critique on an editorial by written Richard John Neuhaus in First Things, entitled “In a Time of War”, which paints the war against terror as an unambiguous war against evil, in which the duties of Americans and Christians converge. Baxter levels several serious criticisms at this portrayal, and calls into question the notion that America is a “Christian nation” in any relevant sense. He concludes "In a time of war, therefore, the challenge of Christians, scattered among the nations of the world, is to live as the one body of Christ and to pledge their allegiance not to one nation under God, but to one church under God." (75)

In the next chapter, Michael Budde takes on the idea that God is a capitalist – which seems absurd, until one realizes that if God is not a capitalist, then God’s church should not be, either. Budde sifts through the writings of people such as Laurie Beth Jones, who wrote the bestselling – bestselling! – book Jesus CEO: Using Ancient Wisdom for Visionary Leadership, which in turn spawned other similar “spiritreneurs”, which would make me laugh derisively if I could stop crying long enough. Budde then turns to Michael Novak, a more serious proponent of capitalism as a divine means of spreading wealth and blessing throughout the world, and thoroughly critiques this view. One especially helpful part of this chapter was Budde’s re-reading of the Parable of the Talents, usually a favorite of the pro-capitalist camp. Quoting Steve Long, Budde writes "a fundamental difference between the Christian God and capitalism is that God presumes plenitude and abundance, and capitalism presumes -- and creates -- scarcity." (92)

The penultimate chapter features William Cavanaugh making short work of the idea that God is “religious” – and the related idea that we should be. He offers extended treatment of the historical problems behind the idea of “religion”, and concludes that “religion” is unacceptable to Christians, as it attempts to carve out two realms, one sacred and one secular. For the Christian there is no peculiarly secular realm. Or as Cavanaugh writes, “The Church should carve out spaces of political truth-telling and economic sharing that resist the twin idolatries of state and market.”

In contrast to the featureless, history-less idol so often offered in place of God, D. Brent Laytham in the final chapter offers a more positive account of God. He looks at the way that language has traditionally been seen to refer to God in the Christian tradition, and then examines in some detail the commandments about idolatry in the Decalogue. He closes by proposing that the God the embodied church discloses is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic.

This is a provocative and exhilarating volume, sure to prompt thought, discussion, maybe even argument. At times the rhetoric can seem a tad overheated, but it is never shrill or tiresome, and always based on careful thought and exposition. The authors no doubt would claim that topic matter – idolatry – warrants the strong language. It is clearly written and not needlessly technical: nearly anyone with sufficient interest and passing familiarity with basic theological terms would be able to tackle the book with profit. On the whole, it is a very rewarding read, and highly recommended.

...and taking with the other

Recently I've said a few things about Baptists, like if you were to scratch an American, you'll find a Baptist underneath. To clarify, I am particularly talking about the habits of mind and soul that almost any American takes for granted as being true -- so much so that to suggest otherwise borders on socio-cultural heresy. And many of those habits parallel quite closely distinctive teachings and convictions of the Baptist tradition.

Actually, what they really approximate is the liberal tradition that came out of the Enlightenment, but when I call my Southern Baptist pastor friend a liberal compared to me (I'm an Episcopal priest) he just laughs. But it's true. The Congregational, Baptist, Unitarian, and most other free church traditions -- especially those that came early to America -- share these characteristics in common, and are properly called "liberal" traditions. I don't call them "liberal" because that would lead to more misunderstanding than calling them Baptist. (In fact, I try to avoid the term "liberal" altogether, because -- like "literalism" -- I think it can become a very grey catch-all term, with any number of a vast array of meanings. Some of the meanings even contradict the other meanings. So I try to leave it alone. If you do ever hear me use it, though, I am almost certainly talking about the sense of "liberal" I am outlining here.)

So here in a rough-and-ready outline are some characteristics of Americans, Baptists and other liberals:
1) privileging of the literal level of interpretation over any other.
2) distaste for the symbolic and abstract/preference for the literal and concrete.
3) utilitarian and pragmatic, seeing beauty and ornament as extras (which, when push comes to shove, are unnecessary).
4) stress on the individual (and her conscience) as the seat of authority, in interpretation especially; community is secondary or nonexistent.
5) stress on The Bible, and the Bible's perspicacity -- and hence a de-emphasis on interpretation, or a denial that it takes place.
6) stress on liberty of the individual, versus communal or tradition-based norms, with a corresponding de-emphasis on any historical memory.
7) emphasis on voluntary membership in church, a group whose authority is entirely congregational, and run by popular vote (or possible a board of elders). Suspicion of either a concrete, embodied church structure (whether full-blown episcopacy, or even a regional synod or classis), or of "high" doctrines of the church as anything other than a human, voluntary creation. The notion that one might be a Christian in isolation, without being a member of any church seems to be common sense.
8) strong emphasis on separation of church and state.
9) strong tendency to divide the world up into "spiritual" and "political", so that the two should not meet: that is to say, faith is "private" while politics is "public".
10) strong sense that salvation is other-worldly, i.e. it's about going to heaven, and that we should do as much as possible to help others make a decision that will help them "spiritually". This often entails a corresponding de-emphasis on this-worldly efforts by Christians, except, perhaps, as they lead to the spiritual.
11) often displays a sense of patriotism that goes beyond affection for one's country to an assurance that it is favored or chosen by God, perhaps an instrument of God in the world.

We are all Baptists to some extent: we all have to wrestle with these habits of mind and life, as they have simply been given to us and they are in the bedrock of our national culture -- moreso, I would argue, than the Puritans and their convictions. Of course, even if we define ourselves against this characterization we are still demonstrating the Baptist/ American influence. Naturally we don't need to accept these habits, even if they've so deeply shaped us. But if we have been formed by them, it will be difficult (and will seem anything but natural) to notice them, to doubt them, and to think and act differently.

I will, in time, try to make more observations about how these habits show themselves in our society. I think this conversation (if you make comments) is important, because this is not just our Baptist-liberal-American culture, but increasingly, as we assume the mantle of World Empire, and spread our way of life through global commerce (a parody of Christian mission), it is becoming the way of the world.

Giving with one hand...

I feel that I need to say something about Baptists in my life, as I have said a number of things about Baptists in general in a few recent posts -- and intend to say a few more things in future posts -- that sound negative. I don't mind offering criticism, but I am uncomfortable when others seem to have some scapegoat on whom they blame everything. So I should say at the outset that this is not my intention in talking about Baptists the way I have.

I have known the work of a number of Baptist writers who have been influential on me, and whom I respect. One, of course, is Real Live Preacher. There are others, too.

Two members of my extended family are Baptists and they have always been a model of Christian living for me: generous, loving, self-sacrificial, gracious, humble. They have been saints of God in my life and would be embarrassed to hear me say so.

I have many friends who are involved with Baptist churches, including one longtime friend who is pastor of a Baptist church in Virginia, and another who is a New Testament scholar teaching at Moody Bible Institute. I regard all of them with affection and respect.

Also, I must say in all honesty that I owe a debt of gratitude to the Baptists, for I became a Christian in a Baptist church. Without exaggerating, I cannot imagine what my life would be like now if it weren't for a few friends inviting me and a church welcoming me and telling me what it's about back when I was a teenager. In plain terms, I owe them my life.

Finally, in case it should ever sound in my writings as if I were picking on the Baptists, as if I were suggesting that if we could just isolate them or eliminate them or change them and everything would be okay, please remember this: we are all Baptists.

That is to say, if I am right in the ideas that I am unpacking, then the same habits of mind and soul that animate the Baptists are what drive and form all Americans, not just those who were dunked in a free church setting.

The Continuing Saga of America: a ________ Nation

Some time back, I explored the proposition put to me by a friend and maintained tenaciously by many others that America is a Christian nation. More recently, I have been analyzing Baptist theology as directly influencing and reflecting American habits of mind and life.

Now here comes Caleb McDaniel, writing with his usual verve and insight on a related topic, the shape of Thomas Jefferson's faith. I recommend you read his entire entry, but I found the following excerpts particularly telling:

Whatever one thinks about the "Christian nation" question, it is undeniable that Americans of all stripes have been obsessed throughout our history with Jesus. What [this author] proposes to show, in fact, is that Americans have frequently used their various interpretations of Jesus, whether historical or theological, as critical tools against "Christianity."

...and further...

But what is clear even from this start is that Jefferson's ideas about Jesus were "Christian" only in a highly qualified sense. What is even clearer is that Jefferson intended his Jesus to stand in judgment against Christianity. It is important that he underlined his status as a "real" Christian. He was not claiming Christian faith in such statements, but was (as many Americans subsequently have) attempting to evacuate the term and fill it with new meaning. And, again like many subsequent Americans, he wanted to claim that this new meaning of Christian was the original, unadulterated one.

I find these observations fascinating not in what they reveal about Jefferson himself, as what they reveal (by analogy) about Americans in general. The practice of using Jesus as a critical tool against Christianity -- not to say the church -- seems to me to be a sort of characteristic move of Americans (and perhaps the Enlightenment in general). To do this, one needs to prise Jesus away from any sort of embodied tradition and assert that he is actually free-floating and abstract, universally and immediately available (how else would one "have" the "real" Jesus with which to judge the Christian faith?). One would need not only skepticism towards tradition(s), but also a conviction that oneself (or one's conscience) is the final authority on such issues as reading and interpreting the Scriptures (editing them, in Jefferson's case). Finally, one would need to maintain the tried-and-true (and dubious) distinction of "wheat" and "chaff". Harnack was a prominent later proponent of this notion of getting rid of the chaff of Christianity to maintain the pure wheat, not unlike what Jefferson was up to. I raise these issues not to offer thorough critique here, but to observe some of the signs of what I elsewhere call the "Baptist nature" of much American tradition.

Re-keying Locke

Stephen C. Carlson provides, via Seth Sanders, Larry Lessig, and David Dungan a very helpful look at how John Locke (yes, that John Locke) was a precursor to the modern practice of literalist Biblical exegesis.

Hypotyposeis: "Literalist" Exegesis

I thought a couple of further remarks might be made - the reader keeping in mind that I am entering this particular conversation midstream.

First, as the entry points out only in passing, literalism is the order of the day for modernity, not only fundamentalism. Modern historical critics are very much literalists in the sense that Locke specifies: "(The Bible must) be understood in the plain direct meaning of the words and phrases, such as they may be supposed to have had in the mouths of the speakers, who used them according to the language of that time and country wherein they lived..." The difference between fundamentalists and historical critics (I don't like this distinction, but it will do for now) is not that one is literalist and the other not - much less that one is "critical" and the other not - but the emphasis that they place on the criteria they use and the ways in which they then employ those criteria. In other words, this fundementalist-historical critical debate is one of modernity's in-house discussions.

Further, Carlson quotes Dungan, who says "In America, fundamentalists belong to private, voluntary, democratic associations having minimal hierarchy. In these groups, the aversion to all creeds, the aversion to lateral or hierarchical authority so that congregations are joined with other congregations only in the loosest of coalitions, the universal suspicion of educational standards for their clergy--all spring from one and the same core value: the need to remain politically and religiously equal." One might well read "all people" for "fundamentalists" in the first quoted sentence. With only the possible exception of suspicion of educational standards, this is broadly true of nearly all American Christians. As I have been aching to say for some time now, if you scratch an American, you will find a baptist underneath.

Third, the terms "literal" and "literalist" are not usually used as technically as they are in Locke and Dungan, or Carlson. Generally, they are used to mean an interpretation which is simplisitic, and more generally to speak of someone who is ignorant. In fact, these terms are usually used simply as a pejorative dismissal of someone who thinks differently than the speaker; it is a good way to avoid any engagement with someone else, and any searching self-examination of our own beliefs. It is very much of the moment in our society now. (For my money, I think they are such problematic terms I have banished them from my vocabulary for the time being. I would heartily encourage any readers consider taking the same measure.) But Carlson and those he quotes do not use the terms in these ways.

Fourth, one would do well to keep in mind that a literal reading of a text -- preserving the way the words run, with an eye towards what the author intended -- is not an innovation of the Enlightenment at all. Locke's contribution was not saying that the Bible ought to be understood this way (Augustine in De Doctrina Christiana says this, too). His contribution, and the Enlightenment's generally, was saying that this was the only way that it may be understood (or better: the only thing that counts for understanding). Locke stipulated: [the Bible must be understood]..."without such learned, artificial, and forced senses of them as are sought out and put upon them in most systems of divinity (theological systems)."

Finally, it strikes me that there might be an imprecision here. The literalist interpretation that Locke speaks about (interpretation 'according to the letter') is careful to take into account historical considerations, authorial intent, genres. Conservative Biblical interpreters are (as mentioned above) just as much literalists in this sense as liberal historical-critical interpreters, and are careful to attend to just these concerns. But I suspect that these conservative Biblical interpreters are better characterized as evangelicals than fundamentalists. Also, ironically enough, some (soi-disant) fundamentalists might not be sufficiently literalist in the sense that Locke (and Carlson) uses, if they ignore such considerations as history or genre. This sort of fundamentalist would use more of a divinitory (and pre-modern) technique than an evangelical, pulling meaning out of words without regard for authorial intent. (They are otherwise quite modern in that they are thoroughly voluntarist and individualist.)

Hypotheses offered, argumentation and evidence to follow

Hypothesis 1) Church marketing grows out of secular marketing.

Hypothesis 2) Secular marketing grows out of American revivalism, particularly of the nineteenth century (i.e. the "Second Great Awakening" and its successors.)

Hypothesis 3) The Second Great Awakening used pragmatic, instrumental methods to bring about conversions (i.e. the means did not match the ends). This shows a distinctively modern triumph of method in church practice, not necessarily the first, but probably the most prominent early use. (I take it that Modernity is ultimately nihilistic and inhuman, based on violence, and hence a problem for Christians.)

Hypothesis 4) (strong version) The ecclesiology that endorsed the Second Great Awakening is dubious (or at least infelicitous in our present American context) and ought to be rejected

Hypothesis 5) (strong version) The Christian church ought also to reject secular marketing as the outgrowth of a heretical development in the church during the nineteenth century.

...or if you don't like that...

Hypothesis 4) (weaker version) A certain sort of ecclesiology (largely Baptist and other free-church Protestants) supported the Second Great Awakening, and left its mark indelibly on that revival and subsequent developments from it (like church marketing).

Hypothesis 5) (weaker version) Certain segments of the Christian church -- Anglican, Orthodox, Roman Catholic, many Lutherans -- ought to reject the practice of church marketing as based on an incompatible ecclesiology.