Archive for the ‘Theology’ Category

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.

 

Come, Creator Spirit

Wednesday, June 8th, 2011 by Diane Chandler

In the ninth century, the well-known hymn Veni Creator Spiritus was penned in Latin and later set to music.  Since then, this beautiful hymn is sung around the world, most often on Pentecost and at ordinations, signifying the invocation of the Spirit to bless the people of God. Celebrated fifty days after Easter, Pentecost commemorates the coming of the promised Holy Spirit, as recorded in Acts 2:1-13. This week provides a fresh opportunity to call upon the Holy Spirit to outpour anew in our lives in order to bless the nations.  Later in this blog, you’ll have an opportunity to learn more about the Global Day of Prayer that will take place this Sunday, May 12, 2011.

The author of the Veni Creator hymn is believed to have been Rhabanus Maurus, an Abbot and later Archbishop of Mainz in Germany. In light of this coming Sunday, June 12, 2011 being Pentecost Sunday, Christians (including evangelical and Pentecostal believers who may be unfamiliar with the hymn) might appreciate the richness of the words that breathe out a lyrical prayer to the Holy Spirit to come, anoint, rekindle, strengthen, protect, and draw us into a deeper relationship with Father, Son, and Spirit. You can view and listen to one rendition of the Veni Creator Spiritus hymn in Latin, followed by an English adaptation, by clicking here.

Centuries later, composer Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) used the hymn as the first choral of his eighth symphony, known as Symphony of a Thousand. And the Spirit-filled Preacher to the Papal Household, Raniero Cantalamessa, utilized the hymn as his roadmap to write the book, Come, Creator Spirit: Meditations on the Veni Creator on the dynamism, creativity, love of the Holy Spirit. A Roman Catholic brother, Cantalamessa has the privilege of preaching and ministering to the Pope and others at the Vatican.

The Veni Creator lyrics are sublime in their simplicity (translated into English below and taken from Cantalamessa’s book, p. 5):

“Come, Creator Spirit, visit the minds of those who are yours; Fill with heavenly grace, the hearts that you have made. You who are named the Paraclete, gift of God most high, living fountain, fire, love and anointing for the soul. You are sevenfold in your gifts, you are finger of God’s right hand; You, the Father’s solemn promise, putting words upon our lips. The enemy drive from us away, peace then give without delay; with you as guide to lead the way, we avoid all cause of harm. Grant we may know the Father through you, and come to know the Son as well, and may we always cling in faith to you, the Spirit of them both.”

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Further Reflections on “Approaching” Hell

Monday, June 6th, 2011 by Dale M. Coulter

The Great River of Christian Tradition

Last week I wrote against what I identified as the Ida Syndrome (the Ice Dancing Approach to scripture). With its attempt to glide across the expanse of scriptural texts, I described this approach as a more sophisticated version of proof-texting. Its basic components are as follows: 1) mistakenly equating depth as a well-choreographed assembling of scriptural texts or isolating a particular trajectory within scripture; 2) selective reading of parts of Christian tradition as somehow supporting the whole; 3) a failure to understand the underlying ideas and structural relations between various doctrines within Christian tradition; 4) a fracturing of the narrative whole of scripture in favor of supporting a particular position.

These components continue to work into the interpretive project within evangelicalism as the continuing debate about hell reveals. And let me be a little bold here: Sometimes, and I did say sometimes, an embrace of the Ida Syndrome really amounts to a lack of theological imagination, by which I mean a failure to allow the great river of Christian tradition to fill the mind with images and ideas that provide the foundation for interpreting scripture. I have found that some theologians or thinkers who claim, “it’s not a logical or rational position,” simply lack the imagination to see (in Johannine terms) how something could be the case. They fall back onto “logic,” but what counts as logical is not what follows the rules of logic, but what they imaginatively conceive as possible. This is one reason why Christian writers like Dante or even C. S. Lewis reverted to mythical and poetical accounts in order to place Christian ideas into a new imaginative framework so as to reveal what is indeed possible.

With this in mind, let me further identify some of the doctrines that are related to the doctrine of hell and the questions it poses.

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Hell and the Ida Syndrome

Monday, May 30th, 2011 by Dale M. Coulter

In the past few weeks, there has been another splash on the internet with respect to the doctrine of hell. Yes. . .again. It was created by the popular Christian speaker and author Francis Chan’s video about his forthcoming book, Erasing Hell. You can view the video at his website. I find it somewhat ironic that there is a rush on the part of some detractors to critique a video, not unlike the rush to criticize Rob Bell. But then, this is the brave new world of the internet.

Without commenting on Chan, mainly because I weary of dissecting comments on a video that are explicitly designed to market a book and thus must be provocative, it seems to me at this point that both the defenders and growing detractors of the doctrine of hell get it wrong, especially in the evangelical world where this debate is primarily being waged. I’ll try to spell out several areas that both sides need to deal with before they arrive at any conclusions about hell, but the debate reveals how persons can be “biblical” without being biblical. This current debate in and around the edges of the evangelical world has confirmed my own growing sense that one cannot be authentically biblical without immersing oneself thoroughly into the great river of Christian tradition. I say thoroughly because folks like Bell will stand on the banks of the great river and cherry pick select authors in the same way that many individuals employ selective scriptures as proof texts.

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Resurrection Hope: What Easter Means for the Everyday-Life of Christians

Sunday, April 24th, 2011 by Antipas Harris

John 11:25a records Jesus saying, “I am the resurrection and the life.”  In a time of wars, terror threats, various earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis, political unrest and social mayhem, it is imperative that preachers emphasize the existential hope extended to humankind in Christ’s resurrection. Year after year, Easter sermons have de-emphasized the bloody cross and the heinous events that constitute the celebration of “Good Friday.” But we must not cater to the romantic end of the story without giving sufficient gaze into the painful process prior to Easter. The actual events prior to Easter impact the hope we find in Easter. Over the anuls of Hebrew history, Jews have celebrated “Passover.” Passover emphasizes the blood of the lamb that gives hope to Israel in the middle of a night of death. Passover in the first century was when Jesus was crucified.

That Passover, moreover, Jesus became the bloody Lamb. He experienced a night of merciless beatings, an unfair trial, a struggle to carry the burden of the cross up Calvary’s hill, a torture of nails, thorns and a piercing in the side. Easter is triumph through death, hell and the grave. Easter is triumph through torture, injustice, pain and agony. Easter, therefore, is life breaking through death, triumphing pain and agony. Easter is victory in spite of oppression. Easter is victory through the cross.

Liberation theologian and archbishop Paulo Evaristo Arns’s article “Easter and the Hope of Victory” sheds light on the existential implications of Easter. Yet, he does not go far enough into the practical dynamics worth exploring.  He writes, “A people liberated from bondage were to remember that God saw their misery and descended to free them in order to give them the possibility of living another social model based upon equality, justice and solidarity. Easter is the memory of the liberating transit of God who of a slave people made a free and equal people.” As we observe our times, watch the news and engage ministry to the broken, one admits that even in the “land of the free and home of the braves” people are not always free. People, here, are not always brave. Over the past 10 years events in our history such as 9/11, other terror attempts, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, and oil spills (to name a few) have challenged our freedom and cast a shadow of fear over our former bravery.

A few days ago and in my neighborhood, a young man attempted to rob the bank in the broad daylight. The police caught him. Yet, out of fear for his own life, the police shot the robber and landed him in the hospital. The situation impacted our community such that people are more protective. Unlike the late eighties/early nineties in Manchester, Georgia, I am careful to lock my car and house doors — even in the middle of the day. Things have changed! We seem to fear each other more than we help each other. Read the rest of this entry »