Archive for the ‘Theology’ Category

The Law of the Spirit

Thursday, November 3rd, 2011 by Jason Wermuth

In Matthew 5:17, Jesus tells his disciples “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished.” This is a curious passage to many Christians who have received a Christianity which seems to provide freedom from the letter of the law in favor of submission to the law of the Spirit (Rom. 8:2). In what follows I will show that Jesus is the fulfillment of the law, and he is our liberator from slavery to the written law.

While Jesus declares that he did not come to abolish the law, he certainly reinterprets it and engages in creative and unorthodox practices regarding the law. For example, in Matthew 5:21, Jesus takes the command to murder and strengthens it, adding that “if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You Fool,’ you will be liable to hell of fire.” Here Jesus has introduced a harsher requirement than what is in the actual law. In other places, however, Jesus softens the law (much to the chagrin of his Pharisee contemporaries). In Exodus 20:8-10, the Israelites are commanded to “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” The passage continues describing what that should look like: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of the LORD your God, in it you shall not do any work…” In Mark 2:23-28, Jesus is walking through the grainfields with his disciples on the Sabbath when some of his followers start to pick the grain and eat. The Pharisees, apparently keeping a watchful eye on this Rabbi who had a tendency to play fast and loose with the law, confront Jesus about the “work” his disciples are doing on the Sabbath. His eloquent reply ends with “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath, so the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.” In one more instance of Jesus’ subversion of the standard of Sabbath keeping, Mark 3:1-6 tells us that Jesus healed a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. In other instances, Jesus touches lepers, spends quality time with Samaritans and eats with tax collectors and prostitutes. All of these would have been considered anathema for a law abiding Jew.

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Must Evangelicals Support Israel?

Tuesday, October 4th, 2011 by Marc Santom

As you probably know, President Obama has found himself dealing with a volatile issue lately—and I’m not talking about the economy.  I’m referring to his proposal to re-imagine and re-draw the Israeli-Palestinian border along the 1967 armistice lines with mutually agreed upon land swaps. Given the loaded and tenuous history of these “peace and land talks” in the Middle East, I don’t envy the president for one second—especially after seeing how House Democrats and Republicans applauded Benjamin Netanyahu’s address to Congress which unabashedly spurned the president’s plan.

Needless to say, many evangelicals have since derided the president’s peace proposal as well. Why? For starters, many evangelicals are Republicans who voted for McCain and probably would have a difficult time praising Obama for anything he does right. (I even know some Christians who are covertly upset at the timing of Osama bin Laden’s demise because it means that President Obama will get the credit for it.)  Second, American evangelicals, by in large, adore Israel and love its people. As a result, any policy that disadvantages Israel must have its origins in a dark place with fire and lost souls.

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Women in Pentecostalism: Prophets or Priests?

Tuesday, September 6th, 2011 by Wolfgang Vondey

The gender paradox in Pentecostalism is no secret. There are many more women in the movement than men, and yet women are not allowed into visible positions of authority (you can reverse this paradox). To put it differently: While Pentecostalism maintains to be an egalitarian movement, women are only as equal as men allow. Some would say it differently again: female Pentecostals can be in any position of authority they want as long as it does not include authority over men. What is wrong with this picture?

The literature on the gender divide in Pentecostalism is large albeit still new. We can certainly blame the neglect of the Pentecostal gender paradox by the social sciences (both the neglect of women and the neglect of Pentecostalism). We can also blame the predominance of theories that silence women’s experiences and marginalize women (not only among Pentecostals). We can also blame a fundamentalist reading of Scripture that purportedly justifies male authority and the submission of women, especially in the church. But these blatant issues are not constituting the paradox. How is it that Pentecostalism is a religious movement largely made up of women, when women are not allowed into visible positions of authority?

I suspect that it has to do with an undeveloped ecclesiology among Pentecostals (and this may include an undeveloped anthropology). The charismatic movement in the mainline churches finds its own problems in the often uncritical adoption of hierarchical (read: patriarchal) patterns of the mother church. For some reason, charismatic manifestations do not seem to challenge institutional structures. Classical Pentecostals, on the other hand, have falsely adopted the Protestant idea of the “priesthood of all believers” in addition to a more genuinely Pentecostal notion of the “prophethood of believers.” (Roger Stronstad has long warned that the Protestant paradigm is ill-fitting for Pentecostals). I have elsewhere suggested that Pentecostalism should not be confused with Protestantism. More so, however, Cheryl Bridges Johns has frequently lamented that the gender divide in Pentecostal leadership is to be blamed on the dominance of the priestly image of ministry and a restricted image of prophethood. She sees an abundance of “priestly pentecostalism” characterized by a male dominated hierarchy and institutionalism while women are placed in the position of prophetic pentecostals that co-exist with the priesthood albeit without challenging the patriarchal authority. I think Johns is on to something that needs further development.

There are to my knowledge no studies on the juxtaposition of priesthood and prophethood in Pentecostalism. If Stronstad is correct, then Pentecostals traded their prophetic heritage and calling for a Protestant mindset of the priesthood that is ill-fitting and misleading. Certainly there is the image of the church as a royal priesthood, and I would not insist as harshly as Stronstad on the false choice made by Pentecostals. I do concur, however, that the prophetic dimension of Pentecostalism has suffered since the beginnings of the modern movement. Evidence to the latter can be found frequently and with particular intensity in regions like Latin America and North America, where the patriarchal heritage and male dominated image is still strong. The emphasis on women as prophets instead of priests is coupled with the relegation of women’s authority to the household instead of the church. The prophetic gift has consequently moved to the family (where it encounters other obstacles). In the Pentecostal churches, prophecy holds no significant ecclesiastical authority. And that is the crux of the matter: the idea and office of the priest has been severed from the image and anointing of the prophet. I am talking strictly in terms of leadership structures here. The barring of women as prophetesses from the priestly office has backfired in ways I am not competent enough to analyze at this time. Certainly a blog is not the place for such analysis. But this is the place to call attention to such matters, especially in light of the ongoing heated discussions in general assemblies among many Pentecostal denominations. I believe these discussions will go nowhere quickly unless we face the theological problem of juxtaposing priesthood and prophethood in Pentecostal churches. A more developed anthropology and ecclesiology might indicate that men and women are called and equipped to be both prophets and priests. At least in my reading of Scripture, prophets and priests are not mutually exclusive. In the very least they coexist in the exercise of authority among the people of God. In the Spirit-filled church, they should be one and the same.

African Christology: Jesus in Post-Missionary African Christianity

Thursday, September 1st, 2011 by Valerie Landfair

Clifton R. Clarke, African Christology: Jesus in Post-Missionary African Christianity (Eugene, Oregon: Pickwick, 2011). ix + 190 pp.

One of missiology’s long-standing questions is whether African indigenous religions should be included or excluded within the taxonomy of Christian movements. With African Christology Clifton Clarke continues the inquiry while also focusing on the inclusion of African Independent Churches (AICs) in Ghana into worldwide Christianity in general and Global Pentecostalism in particular. In contrast to Ogbu Kalu, a native Nigerian Pentecostal historian, who argues against the inclusion of AICs into African Pentecostalism, Clarke, along with John Mbiti, a Kenyan theologian, emphasizes the interdependence of indigenous pneumatology and older African religious revivals. Using one of Ghana’s indigenous people groups – the Akan – Clarke ultimately argues that Akan AICs belong not only within the worldwide Christian movement, but also within the circle of Pentecostal churches.

With his in-depth study of Akan AICs, Clarke contributes to the ongoing dialogue among Pentecostals from the global South, who desire a Christology shaped in their image and not in the image of western Christianity. He posits that in the emerging field of global Christian studies, personal experience and cultural environment are important in the interpretation of an authentic faith in the person of Jesus Christ. In the instance of Akan AICs, Clarke shows how they retain aspects of their traditional religious worldviews while embracing the Christian faith.

The author constructs his Christology using source material specific to Akan AICs, including the Bible, hymns and songs, prayers, personal testimonies, and sermons. Through a methodology based on questionnaires, focus group sessions, and interviews with leaders and lay people, he appropriates the primary mode of expressing religious sentiments: orality. Clarke defines oral theology as the “encounter of God through the language that is heard and spoken by the visible and invisible participations of the African universe” (p. 132). The recognition of Akan oral theology by the Catholic Church is also an acknowledgement of the rich heritage and traditions of African Independent Churches.

In contrast to a formal propositional Christology, Clarke’s oral Christology is based on the African encounter with God through language.  Theological reflections are interactive and dynamic, occurring within and outside of the Church. The voices of African proverbs, myths, names, songs, stories, folklore and biblical texts serve to express the activity of God, Jesus and humanity in the overarching realm of visible and invisible realities. Clarke’s study reveals crucial areas of an Akan traditional religious ethos: Onyame (God), Sunsum (Spirit), Abosom (lower spirits), Nananom (Ancestors), and “symbolic power.” The notion of Christ however, does not have a clear correlation with an Akan indigenous worldview. Without an adequate concept of Christ, what are the implications for the Christology of Akan AICs? Would the AICs seek to understand Jesus Kristi as Sunsum, a Spirit made flesh or incarnate, who is ultimately from Onyame?

Another area of concern addressed by Clarke is the connection between culture and religion. He argues that the Christology of Akan AICs maintains a vital, reciprocal relationship between an authentic Christian faith and traditional African culture. His analysis calls for the removal of western theological lenses so that the theology and praxis of the Church at large – and the African church in particular – can be heard in their various contexts.  The term “inculturation,” favored by Clarke and other theologians, means the “on-going creative and dynamic relationship between Jesus Christ and culture” (10). In Theology Brewed in an African Pot, Agbonkhianmeghe E. Orobator, a Jesuit priest from Nigeria, provides a more robust understanding of inculturation, positing that this dynamic process would engage equal partners with equal power. Therefore, these historically unbalanced relationships between indigenous culture, African religion and tradition, and Christianity are all transformed into new creations. These partnerships actively engage in the ongoing pursuit of balance and harmony.

Missiological issues of culture and religion, inclusion and exclusion, universality and particularity will continue to be debated. Clarke’s work offers a “grassroots” approach that incorporates each of these dimensions within the specific context of Akan AICs. In addition to being a much-needed corrective in the field of missiology, Clarke’s book is also well suited as a scholarly supplement for upper level seminary coursework in the same field, as well as in church history, contextual theology, and renewal studies.

 

Wanted: Pentecostal Theology

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011 by Wolfgang Vondey

I have been reading Pentecostal works on systematic theology. I think I read all of them. There aren’t that many. What I am missing is any kind of idea of what exactly is Pentecostal about them. The order of topics, and much of the content, is not different from, say, a Millard Erickson text or a similarly widely used volume. At the same time as I am reading these texts, I am writing on a book that introduces Pentecostalism. “A Guide fo the Perplexed” says my subtitle. What perplexes me is that the things I wish to say, I cannot find in the theology books written by Pentecostals.

Yesterday, I was a discussion of my last book, Beyond Pentecostalism, and I was asked what exactly identifies a Pentecostal theology as Pentecostal. Perhaps the only thing that we can say today, I was told, is that the book is written by someone who is Pentecostal. But in the content we find very little that distinguishes it from other works. I am afraid, I tend to agree with this assessment. It’s not that Pentecostals do not have a particular form of theological reflection and content. It’s that they do not know how to express it.

Just open one of those books and see where it takes you. I wonder, how can a Pentecostal theology have no explicit chapter (!) on Jesus Christ at all (Duffield and Van Cleave’s Foundations of Pentecostal Theology) or put a chapter on Christ in the ninth place (Stanley Horton’s Systematic Theology)? Is a discussion on the unity, clarity, and authority of Scripture really the starting point of Pentecostal doctrine (Arrington’s Christian Doctrine, vol.1)? CanPentecostals afford to look at the table of contents and find no mention of the Holy Spirit (Hart’s Truth Aflame)? In other texts, I find descriptions of theological loci that remind me closely of Reformed teachings (Calvin’s Institutes are a popular model) or some other Evangelical model, but I look in vain for what makes this a Pentecostal text. (All this is not really new criticism; see Terry L. Cross, “Toward a Theology of the Word and the Spirit: A Review of J. Rodman Williams’s Renewal Theology,” Journal of Pentecostal Theology 3 (1993): 113-35.)

What I do not find is a theology that reflects the less vocal Pentecostal majority in the global South; African convictions, Latin American piety, and other non-academic perspectives are absent. The reason for this neglect may be that those Pentecostals do not write a systematic theology. But that should not exclude their voices. If the proper, Anglo-European formulations of Christian doctrine do not fit the Pentecostal ethos, then it is unlikely we can find the heart of Pentecostal theology in such endeavors.

What I do not find is a confidence in being Pentecostla that reflects in the manner doctrines are presented. Pentecostal spend far too much time with apologetics, explaining who they are and justifying their existence in light of the ecemenical traditions (I am guilty of that). It is time that we move ahead and stop apologizing for being Pentecostals and begin to do theology as Pentecostals.

What I do not find is an order of doctrines that truly reflects the priorities of Pentecostal thinking. We continue to adopt the way of ordering theological loci from others despite the fact that several Pentecostal theologians have already shown the negative impact such adoptions have on the preservation of the Pentecostal tradition to the next generation.

What I do not find is a way of speaking (or writing) that reflects a Pentecostal spirituality and cosmology. The way theology is done by Pentecostals most certainly impacts what Pentecostals say and the manner in which they communicate. I am hard-pressed to find a Pentecostal theology that does not seem to be “domesticated”.

To be sure, the reasons for these neglects are not solely found among Pentecostals. Just last week I was told by the senior editor of a major publishing house that Pentecostal texts do not sell very well. At some point, when this was true, Pentecostals found their way into the publishing arena by adopting the conventional way of theology. Today, this convential way has taken the life out of theological texts by Pentecostals. There is, as I was told yesterday, nothing particularly attractive about a Pentecostal book next to a non-Pentecostal book (especially if the other one carries a bigger name). Which one would you choose?

I wonder how the Society for Pentecostal Studies would respond to this assessment. Perhaps we are content with the current state of affairs? Perhaps we do not have the scholars in the field of theology that can write these kind of texts? Did Pentecostals fail to train their own as systematic theologians? Does the Pentecostal leadership in the churches assume that they are sufficiently trained to formulate Pentecostal doctrine? Can we afford to do theology without consulting those Pentecostals without academic training? Where will this lead us? I, for one, am tempted to put out a sign: Wanted! Pentecostal Theology!

Can you help?



In the Days of Caesar: Pentecostalism and Political Theology

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011 by Paul Palma

Amos Yong. In the Days of Caesar: Pentecostalism and Political Theology. Sacra Doctrina: Christian Theology for a Postmodern Age Series (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010). xx + 377 pp.

Over the past decade, Amos Yong has emerged as a leading theologian of the Pentecostal movement. In the Days of Caesar is his evaluation of the intersection between Pentecostalism and the authoritative societal structures of a post-Christendom world. He contends for a political theology in which Pentecostalism, together with the ecumenical Church at large, discerningly confronts and participates in the public spheres of our world today. This position involves taking a critical stance towards dominant cultural, economic, and civic-societal trends, while at the same time modeling a way of life commensurate with the messianic message of peace. Pentecostalism, he argues, has an essential role to play in political theology, and the “concrete politics and public presence and activity of pentecostalism have much to contribute to the church ecumenical in terms not only of beliefs but also of practices” (pp. 360-61).

The book is divided into two parts. The first three chapters set forth the conceptual framework of the work. Chapter one provides an overview of the politics surrounding Pentecostal Christianity. Yong argues in favor of an alternative, progressive political theology over against an apolitical, sectarian, or conservative stance. Chapter two assesses the history of political theology, highlighting developments across the early Christian, medieval, and Reformation periods. The contemporary scene of political theology is then illuminated, viewed particularly in light of Carl Schmitt’s magnum opus of 1922. Chapter three presents the main thesis of the book that Pentecostalism’s “many tongues” provides a unique and strategic platform for engaging the plurality of political theologies that impact our world today.

Part two appropriates the thesis of  a political theology of “many tongues” to the Fivefold Pentecostal Gospel. Pentecostal salvation is conceived as deliverance from the principalities, powers, and political theologies of the demonic (chapter four). Yong suggests that the biblical language of deliverance extends to the political, economic, and social realms. This is understood in light of Abraham Kuyper’s sphere sovereignty model. In chapter five Pentecostal sanctification (or holiness) is depicted aesthetically, as the Spirit of beauty. Yong argues that a politics of many cultures, on the one hand maintains the kind of Christian marginality associated with John Howard Yoder’s political ecclesiology, Stanley Hauerwas’ colony of Resident Aliens, and the New Monasticism. On the other hand, he states, it encourages a new form of political theology, a “Christian leavening, if not explicit cultural engagement” (p. 201).

Chapter six identifies the function of Spirit-baptism with the Pentecostal power emergent among the plurality of civilian practices. The many tongues of Pentecostalism are especially applicable to the global south, where Radical Orthodoxy, and the Anglo-Catholic leanings of a John Milbank for instance, fall short. In chapter seven, Yong presents Jesus the healer as the “shalom” of peace, justice, and righteousness (p. 310). This provides an alternative healthcare, economics, and way of life, without separatism. For sacramental traditions this means the Eucharist is a time for sharing in community and the formation of the soul. Chapter eight envisions Pentecostal hope as the product of the eschatological imagination. Against the backdrop of St. Augustine’s model of the two cities, the Earthly city can, by reforming their lives, proleptically anticipate and experience the in-breaking of the Heavenly city.

Yong maintains that early Pentecostalism, in the tradition of the first apostles, can be compared to Monastic and other revival movements. Such movements offer an alternative way of life and contrast sharply with the cultural, economic, and social forms of the prevailing world order. Eventually, however, they begin to merge with the larger Christian tradition. That said, the current surge of Pentecostalism brings its own set of problems including charges of apoliticism. Yong suggests that Pentecostalism’s many tongues, and therefore many political practices, provide a contextual approach in which the Spirit can be seen as actively and presently working in the public spheres. The resultant shalom is the eschatological hope of the kingdom of God for many tongues, tribes, and nations.

The author provides a comprehensive and prescriptive political theology with relevance beyond Pentecostal Christianity. His method covers a range of political traditions, through the early Church to present times, effectively integrating a history of church-state relations into a contemporary theological model. It could be argued that Yong’s method reaches too far; however the global applicability of a Pentecostal Christian political theology is also the work’s greatest strength. The position articulated is deliberately exhaustive, because the Pentecostal movement has world-wide representation. The hope and cry of a political theology for a post-Christendom world must have the same applicability.