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Luther’s Doctrine of Baptism, a critique, part 2
Luther’s Limiting of Saving Grace to Baptism as Presumptuous
One of the ways Luther attempts to acquit himself from teaching salvation by human works, as we have seen, is to claim that baptism is not merely an act done by men, but is ultimately God’s act. He answers the accuser like this: “Yes, it is true that our works are of no use for salvation. Baptism, however, is not our work but God’s…”[1] Luther actually turned this accusation around by accusing those who claimed that salvation was by faith apart from baptism to actually be the ones who are trusting in human works instead of the work of God (baptism).[2] This reveals a great deal about the way Luther drew his dividing lines between human works and God’s gift of salvation. That salvation is “not of works” does not, for Luther, rule out the possibility of salvation being by works in any sense, but only rules out works done apart from the divine and supernatural empowering of God. Since Luther limited God’s supernatural saving grace to the sacrament of baptism,[3] trusting in anything but God’s salvific work through baptism—including faith in Christ—is to be guilty of trusting in human works.[4]
Although there is in fact a great deal of truth in Luther’s words of defense, he assumes without argumentation that God’s saving work of grace is limited to the sacraments. It is true that even our “good works” (such as obediently[5] submitting to Christ’s command to be baptized) are done by the power of God’s grace, and are thus ultimately God’s work. It is the Arminian mentality which divides certain parts of our obedience from God’s grace. Anything good we do at all—whether acts of the will, such as coming to Christ, or our bodily actions of obedience to God’s commandments—it is all by the power of God’s saving grace.[6] Luther is correct in assuming that grace is not to be conceived in opposing distinction to all works, but rather to anything done apart from the power of God’s grace. Therefore, that salvation is by grace and not of works does not necessarily mean that salvation and grace do not include works done by the power of the grace of God.[7]
Thus, Luther’s mistake is not in his dividing lines between works done in the power of God’s grace (which Luther would say are ultimately God’s works) and works done apart from God’s work of grace (which are mere human works which profit nothing). Rather, Luther’s mistake is in his limiting God’s saving grace to the sacrament of baptism, and as we have seen, this limitation is based on a particular interpretation of Mark 16:16 which Luther fails to demonstrate and which rests finally on an overly simplistic hermeneutic which does not take into account the totality of biblical teaching. As with his hermeneutic, Luther does not argue that whatever God effects he effects through the sacraments, he merely asserts it.
Furthermore, the logic Luther uses here to clear himself from the charge of teaching works salvation ought also to prevent him from accusing his opponents of teaching a works-based salvation. So long as his opponents hold that faith itself is God’s work, he can no more charge them with believing in works salvation than he can himself. I can hear Luther’s opponents now, retorting back to Luther: “If those works which God does are not human works, and we hold that faith is a work which God does in us, then you cannot suspect or charge us with any belief in salvation by works just because we hold that faith comes apart from water baptism.” When Luther limits salvific grace to the sacrament of baptism and therefore accuses anyone who thinks a man can be saved apart from water baptism as guilty of trusting in human works (works done apart from the grace of God), he fails to reckon with his own logic. If his opponents do not assert that faith is a human work done apart from God’s work, Luther would have to consequently withdraw his accusation based on his own principles.[8] His attempt to justify himself and yet condemn his opponents is based on an uncharitable double standard.
[1] Luther, The Book of Concord, 441.
[2] See footnote 15.
[3] See paragraph 3 in “Baptism as God’s Word Comprehended in Water.”
[4] See footnote 15.
[5] I say “obediently” because it is possible to submit oneself for baptism without faith, and such an act would not be true obedience (Heb 11:6).
[6] I say “saving” grace to distinguish from what is called “common grace,” which does not include the granting of true obedience.
[7] In fact, I would even go beyond Luther and claim that when the Apostle Paul speaks of “not having a righteousness of my own,” (Phil 3:9) this does not by itself prove that the righteousness in which he wishes to be found on the last day is outside himself (an alien righteousness) or does not include good deeds done by the power of God’s grace. That God’s gift of righteousness is “not of our own” does not necessarily mean it does not consist within us or our good works any more than Paul’s denial that it was him who “labored even more than all of them,” but rather, “the grace of God with me,” means that this grace did not include human labor (1 Cor 15:10, cf. Rom 2:4-16).
[8] Luther also granted that faith was a work of God: “For faith is a work of God, not of man, as Paul teaches.” Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, vol 36, Word and Sacrament II, ed. Abdel Ross Wentz, gen ed. Helmut T. Lehmann (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Muhlenberg Press, 1959), 62.
Limitations of Logic
Listen to Andrew Brody respond to my e-mail on his LSAT logic podcast entitled “Listener Logic #12. I sent it in just a few days before this podcast and was surprised at the quick turnaround, and honored that he gave my questions so much attention. People from all over the world listen to this podcast. It’s quickly become my favorite podcast.
Luther’s Doctrine of Baptism, a critique, part 1
Review: In our last post we looked at Luther’s doctrine of Baptism as systematically presented in his Large Catechism. We noted that for Luther, baptism is “water comprehended in God’s Word.” By “God’s Word,” Luther has two very specific aspects of God’s Word in mind: 1) God’s commandment to perform baptism in the great commission, and 2) God’s promise to save those who are baptized. Thus, for Luther, baptism is comprehensive in that it comprehends all of salvation—nothing less than God himself, along with all his gifts. Baptism mediates all spiritual blessings. Therefore, without it, no one can be a Christian. Baptism does not merely symbolize salvation, it effects that which it symbolizes. Luther counters the accusation that his gospel is works based by arguing that baptism is God’s work, not a mere human work. He also accuses those who trust in faith alone apart from baptism as sufficient for salvation to be therefore trusting in something other than God’s work–human works. Thus, for Luther, to trust in faith alone as sufficient for salvation (apart from the sacramental mediation of grace through baptism) is to trust in a false gospel of human works. If you find this shocking in light of Luther’s famed reputation in Reformed circles as the one who defended sola fide, welcome to the enlightening world of theological research.
We will now proceed to critique Luther’s view of baptism. The critique must be broken down into three sections. First I will show that Luther’s hermeneutic is unproven and therefore vulnerable. Second, I will attempt to argue that Luther’s limiting of saving grace to the mediation of baptism is guilty of presumption. Third, I will show that Luther engages in some logical fallacies when arguing for the rightness of infant baptism.
A Critique of Luther’s Paradigm and Argumentation
Some of Luther’s arguments are valid. For example, if Luther’s argument against those who say baptism is “of no use,” is interpreted to be directed at “some left-wing radicals in the sixteenth century” who argued against practice of baptism altogether, his argument is simple but sound: “What God institutes and commands cannot be useless.”[1] However, it is the burden of this series of posts to show weaknesses in his argumentation, both in his hermeneutics and his logic. Therefore, we will only be focusing on those arguments which fit this purpose.
Luther’s Basic Paradigm as Foundationally Flawed by a Wooden Hermeneutic
Luther’s paradigm of baptism as water comprehended in God’s Word (i.e. God’s promise of salvation) is based on the hermeneutical assumption that the promise in Mark 16:16 is to be taken at face value to teach that baptism is the instrumental cause of salvation. Luther’s argument for baptismal regeneration, therefore, is very similar to his argument for the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, where Luther also applies a wooden hermeneutic to Jesus’ words of institution at the Last Supper, “This is my body” (Mt 26:26). While this kind of interpretation often worked in Luther’s favor, in the case of his view of baptism (and I would argue, the Lord’s Supper) this hermeneutic led him into grave error. Nowhere is this assumption more clear than in the following quote:
In the second place, since we now know what Baptism is and how it is to be regarded, we must also learn for what purpose it was instituted, that is, what benefits, gifts, and effects it brings. Nor can we understand this better than from the words of Christ quoted above, “He who believes and is baptized shall be saved.” To put it most simply, the power, effect benefit, fruit, and purpose of Baptism is to save. No one is baptized in order to become a prince, but as the words say, to “be saved.”[2] [emphasis mine]
It could be argued that Mark 16:16 demands a different interpretation on the basis of the sound hermeneutical principle to interpret the implicit in the light of the explicit. This principle, along with the fact that as the narrative continues in Acts, the Holy Spirit is given completely apart from any water baptism, is enough to cast reasonable doubt on Luther’s prima facie interpretation of Mark 16:16.[3] Furthermore, how is this passage in the gospel narrative of Mark to be squared with other gospel narratives and more didactic genre’s which seem to lay out the simple way of salvation without reference to baptism?[4] Moreover, such a simplistic interpretation of Mark 16:16 seems to violently set itself against Paul’s mentality to the Corinthians: “I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, so that no one would say you were baptized in my name. … For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel…” (1 Cor 1:17). Any view of baptismal regeneration will have to see Paul’s comments here as a false dichotomy which, at best, confuses his readers about the relation of baptism to the gospel and to salvation.
My point here is not necessarily to argue for a specific alternative interpretation of Mark 16:16 so much as it is to show that Luther never deals with the difficulties of his literal interpretation, nor does he argue for this interpretation. Rather, he simply assumes this interpretation based on an overly simplified hermeneutic. Most of his paradigm and argumentation from this point on, unfortunately, is based on this unchecked interpretation of Mark 16:16. This places the rest of Luther’s teaching in The Large Catechism on a vulnerable foundation.
While Luther’s assumption of a particular interpretation of Mark 16:16 can be seen as a lack of hermeneutical discernment, it can also be considered as a logical fallacy. After this point in the catechism, Luther everywhere assumes his particular interpretation of this passage to argue against any view which does not see baptism as salvific. In doing so, Luther commits the fallacy of question begging,[5] assuming what he has set out to prove.
Our know-it-alls, the new spirits, assert that faith alone saves and that works and external things contribute nothing to this end. … But these leaders of the blind are unwilling to see that faith must have something to believe—something to which it may cling and upon which it may stand [the promise of salvation in baptism]. Thus faith clings to the water and believes it to be Baptism in which there is sheer salvation and life, not through the water, as we have sufficiently stated, but through its incorporation with God’s Word and ordinance and the joining of his name to it. … Now these people are so foolish as to separate faith from the object to which faith is attached and bound on the ground that the object is something external. … We have here the words, ‘He who believes and is baptized will be saved.’ To what do they refer but to Baptism, that is, the water comprehended in God’s ordinance?[6]
Here Luther accuses those who say that faith saves apart from water baptism as being guilty of separating faith from its object of belief. How does this argument work in Luther’s mind? If baptism is water comprehended in God’s Word, and this means that it is water comprehended in God’s promise of salvation, then faith in God’s Word includes believing God’s promise of salvation through baptism. Thus, for Luther, a faith which does not include faith in God’s promise of salvation in baptism is not saving faith. Faith must include faith in God’s Word (i.e. God’s promise that “whoever believes and is baptized will be saved”).
Basically, Luther’s logic could be summarized like this: Since God promises to save through baptism, anyone who separates saving faith from belief in this promise has stripped faith of its content. As should be obvious, this entire argument is begging the million dollar question, for Luther’s opponents obviously do not agree with his assumption that God has promised salvation through baptism. Luther’s argument begins by assuming what he has set out to prove—that baptism is water comprehended in God’s Word (i.e. God’s promise of salvation in baptism). If God has not promised salvation through baptism, then to deny baptism of salvific power would not involve separating the water from God’s Word. In fact, as many would want to argue (myself included), to add such a meaning to baptism is to distort the totality of biblical teaching about salvation and thus shroud God’s Word of promise.
Luther’s ill conceived paradigm of baptism as “water comprehended in God’s Word” accounts for all the radical things he teaches about baptism in the catechism. When Luther says God’s commandment and promise are “added to” the water, he means the same thing as when he says baptism is water “comprehended” in God’s Word. Likewise, when Luther says that God’s Word is “attached” to the sacrament, he has both the command to baptize and the promise of salvation in mind: “For the nucleus in the water is God’s Word or commandment and God’s name.”[7] It is also on the basis of God’s Word being “attached” to the sacrament that Luther makes his claim that baptismal water is not just water, but divine water.
It is nothing else than a divine water, not that the water in itself is nobler than other water but that God’s Word and commandment are added to it….This shows that it is not simple, ordinary water, for ordinary water could not have such an effect.[8]
Hence it is well described as a divine, blessed, fruitful, and gracious water, for through the Word Baptism receives the power to became the “washing of regeneration,” as St. Paul calls it in Titus 3:5.[9]
It is on the basis of God’s command and promise that water becomes a divine sacrament.
From the Word it derives its nature as a sacrament.… This means that when the Word is added to the element or the natural substance, it becomes a sacrament, that is, a holy, divine thing and sign.[10]
When Luther says that baptism “contains and conveys all the fullness of God,”[11] he is best understood as meaning that through it we receive God’s work of salvation which includes nothing less than God himself—the Holy Spirit. This Spirit gives inner renewal (regeneration), the granting of faith in Christ, and the granting of repentance, which Luther speaks of in terms of being delivered from the bondage of sin. This gift is nothing less than eternal life in the kingdom of God. Given this paradigm, it is difficult to think of anything which is not comprehended in some way by Luther’s doctrine of baptism.
To put it most simply, the power, effect, benefit, fruit, and purpose of Baptism is to save.… To be saved, we know, is nothing else than to be delivered from sin, death, and the devil and to enter into the kingdom of Christ and live with him forever.[12]
He always has enough to do to believe firmly what Baptism promises and brings—victory over death and the devil, forgiveness of sin, God’s grace, the entire Christ, and the Holy Sprit with his gifts. [It is] priceless medicine which swallows up death and saves the lives of all men.[13]
Any and all spiritual blessings whatsoever which are able to be experienced in this life are received immediately through water baptism, which blessings secure those eternal blessings which are still to come. To be baptized, then, is to do nothing less than receive God and inherit the world with Christ. In fact, “even the traditional description of baptism as a ‘means of grace’ is a less than felicitous phrase because it suggests the presence of something other than God himself.”[14] It is no wonder that when Luther was in the midst of spiritual assaults (whatever those were about), instead of claiming the alien righteousness of Christ for himself, he “relied on baptism.”[15] This is not the poster boy Luther of Reformed Orthodoxy’s rhetorical propaganda, but it is the real Luther.
[1] Luther, Book of Concord, 437.
[2] Ibid., 439.
[3] See esp. Acts 8:14-17, Acts 10:44-48.
[4] See esp. Acts 10:43, Romans 1:16-17, 3:22, 10:9-13, Eph 2:8-9.
[5] Or by Carson’s categories, we might call it the fallacy of mere emotional appeal. D.A. Carson, Exegetical Fallacies, second ed. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books House Co., 1996), 106-07. Luther’s appeal (“these leaders of the blind are unwilling to see that…”) is similar to the example Carson gives of Prof. Smith. “Sometimes a mild case of emotional abuse occurs when one writer responds to another with some such phrasing as this: ‘Astonishingly, Prof. Smith fails to take into account the fact that. . . .'”
[6] Luther, The Book of Concord, 440. Luther has intentionally prepared his readers to be ready for this argument by emphasizing the necessity of not separating the water from the Word. “I therefore admonish you again that these two, the Word and the water, must by no means be separated from each other.” Luther, The Book of Concord, 439.
[7] Ibid., 438.
[8] Ibid., 438-39.
[9] Ibid., 440.
[10] Ibid., 438.
[11] Ibid., 438.
[12] Ibid., 439.
[13] Ibid., 442.
[14] Tranvik, “Luther on Baptism,” 31.
[15] Ibid., 24.
Luther’s Doctrine of Baptism, the Large Catechism
The Large Catechism
Our study begins with The Large Catechism for at least three reasons: 1) it is Luther’s explicitly systematic approach to the doctrine of baptism, 2) its brevity makes it more fitting for this short post series because it enables a more detailed treatment, and 3) The Large Catechism was written well after the initial controversy of the Reformation and thus can be representative of the “older” Luther.[1] One cannot begin to understand where to start a critique of Luther’s arguments for baptismal regeneration and infant baptism unless one first comprehends his basic framework for understanding the nature of baptism—namely, that baptism is “water comprehended in God’s Word and commandment.”[2] Once Luther argues for this definition of baptism in The Large Catechism, he bases most (if not all) of his varied polemical argumentation squarely on this foundation. He uses this view of baptism against non-salvific views of baptism, against those who deny the validity of infant baptism, against those who would require faith before baptism, and against those who would desire a rebaptism under any circumstance. Therefore, it is crucial to understand Luther’s teaching on the nature of baptism in order to appreciate and evaluate his polemical argumentation.
Baptism as God’s Word Comprehended in Water
Luther begins his treatment of baptism in The Large Catechism by giving a strong statement about the importance of having a good grasp on the two sacraments: “because without these no one can be Christian.”[3] His treatment is intended to be systematic, including all things necessary to know concerning baptism.[4] As we might expect from Luther, his teaching begins by quoting in full the two verses on which the rest of his teaching in the catechism is virtually a commentary—namely, Matthew 28:19 and Mark 16:16.[5] These two verses contain God’s commandment as well as God’s promise, both of which demonstrate the opposite of the teaching of certain “sects” who were teaching that since baptism is an external thing, it is “of no use.”[6] Since the Lord has both commanded it (“go and baptize,” Mt 28:19) and has promised to save us through it (“whoever believes and is baptized will be saved,” Mk 16:16), baptism is water “comprehended in God’s Word and commandment and sanctified by them.”[7] That baptism is to be performed “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” means that “to be baptized…is to be baptized not by men but by God himself. Although it is performed by men’s hands, it is nevertheless truly God’s own act.”[8] Thus baptism is to be distinguished from human works and achievements to which we tend to attach “greater importance.”[9]
The fact that God’s Word (the promise of salvation) is attached to baptism is sufficient (in Luther’s mind) to defeat the skeptics who say, “How can a handful of water help the soul?” (i.e. anyone who would deny baptismal regeneration).[10] Here Luther spends most of his catechismal energy. Not only are those who claim that baptism is merely an external sign having no spiritual effect “so foolish as to separate faith from the object [Gods Word] to which faith is attached and bound,” but Luther argues that they miss the point that God’s grace has been limited to being distributed only through the external sacraments. “Yes, it must be external so that it can be perceived and grasped by the sense and thus brought into the heart, just as the entire Gospel is an external, oral proclamation. In short, whatever God effects in us he does through such external ordinances.”[11] Therefore, faith alone will not do, because although “faith alone makes the person worthy to receive the salutary, divine water profitably,”[12] faith apart from the actual administration of the sacrament of baptism is nothing but a faith which is mustered up apart from the power of God’s grace and severed from God’s Word—and thus it is a human work.[13] Such faith is just as shaky ground for salvation as any other human work.[14]
The Comprehensiveness and Permanency of Baptism
Since baptism includes nothing less than all of salvation and God himself, Luther concludes that in the teaching about baptism, “every Christian has enough to study and to practice all his life.” Luther considers all sanctification and repentance as nothing more than a “walking in Baptism,”[15] and “a Christian life is nothing else than a daily Baptism, once begun and ever continued.”[16] Thus, when we find ourselves spiritually weak, having fallen into sin, or having pangs of conscience, we simply need to “draw strength and comfort from” our baptism, and “retort, ‘But I am baptized!'”[17] “When this amendment of life does not take place but the old man is given free reign and continually grows stronger, Baptism is not being used but resisted.”[18] With this logic, Luther is ready to concede that penance is sufficiently entailed in baptism and forever rid the need of separating these two as separate sacraments.[19]
Justification for Infant Baptism[20]
Luther’s teaching that through baptism we receive “perfect holiness and salvation”[21] raises a question in his catechism about infant baptism which leads him into a lengthy defense of it. The question is whether “children” [and by this he means infants[22]] also believe, and is it right to baptize them?”[23] Luther’s first line of argument is from the effects of baptism as seen in those who were baptized as infants. Since only through baptism can one receive God’s Spirit and new life, when those who were baptized as infants live a life that attests “that they have the Holy Sprit,” they prove that God was pleased to bless their baptism and that infant baptism is pleasing to Him.[24]
The next defense is an argument from church history. Since infant baptism has been practiced and received by even all the early church fathers and through the ages and God has gifted these men and the church through the ages with the Holy Spirit, therefore God obviously is pleased with the practice, “for he can never be in conflict with himself, support lies and wickedness, or give his grace and Spirit for such ends. … For no one can take from us or overthrow this article, ‘I believe one holy Christian church, the communion of saints,’ etc.”[25]
The nature of validity is Luther’s next argument for infant baptism. He argues that the “validity” of baptism does not depend on faith because its validity depends only on God’s Word, and God does not lie.[26] “When the Word accompanies the water, Baptism is valid, even though faith be lacking. For my faith does not constitute Baptism but receives it.”[27] Even if baptism is “wrongly received or used,”[28] this would not make it invalid. Luther illustrates this with a hypothetical case in which a Jew who does not really believe in Christ pretends that he wished to become a Christian and allows himself to baptized by the church. Would the baptism then be “invalid”? Obviously not, Luther thinks. If we admit that the way one receives a sacrament has the power to nullify its validity, we would have to say that those who take the Lords Supper unworthily do not receive the “real” sacrament.[29] Luther attempts to press the logic of the dissenters into absurdity: “Likewise I might argue, ‘If I have no faith, then Christ is nothing.’ Or again, ‘If I am not obedient, then father, mother and magistrates are nothing.'”[30] Finally, the reformer attempts to reverse the objection that lack of faith makes a sacrament “invalid,” based on the “saying” that “Misuse does not destroy the substance, but confirms its existence.”[31] While arguing that the validity of baptism does not depend on faith, he revealingly urges his readers, “Therefore, I say, if you did not believe before [when you were baptized], then believe afterward and confess, ‘The Baptism indeed was right, but unfortunately I did not receive it rightly.'”[32] To urge the importance of faith for all who are baptized is necessary, but to hold that the validity of baptism depends on faith is, to Luther’s sensibilities, quite absurd.
Baptism as Symbolic
Although baptism is not merely symbolic for Luther, it does signify the very grace it imparts to the faithful recipient. That is, it signifies nothing less than death to sin, and the resurrection of the new man, “both of which actions must continue in us our whole life long.”[33] Baptism, therefore, both signifies and conveys salvation to the recipient who receives baptism in faith—regardless of whether this receiving in faith takes place at the actual administration of baptism or later in life.
In our next post we will critique Luther’s view of Baptism.
[1] Trigg argues that most studies done on Luther focus more on the younger Luther at the expense of the older Luther, and that this is especially true with regard to his view on Baptism. Jonathan D. Trigg, Baptism in the Theology of Martin Luther (New York, New York: E.J. Brill, 1994), 9. Although Trigg specifically mentions a neglect of Luther’s theology of baptism after 1530, we might safely assume that if Luther’s catechism was never revised, and no further data demonstrates a significant change in his view, his teaching in the Large Catechism thus represents fairly the view which he held until the day of his death. However, because we are dealing with the late Luther, we will not be engaging his arguments for infant baptism which include arguments concerning the faith of sponsors. According to Althaus, this was an argument which Luther eventually quit using anyway. Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther, trans Robert C. Schultz (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Fortress Press, 1966), 364.
[2] Martin Luther, The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, trans. Theodore G. Tappert (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Muhlenberg Press, 1959), 438. By “comprehended,” Luther means something like, “seen from the vantage point of,” or “empowered by.”
[3] Ibid., 436.
[4] “In order that it may be readily understood, we shall treat it in a systematic way and confine ourselves to that which is necessary for us to know.” Ibid, 436.
[5] The command: “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit” (Mt 28:19). The promise: “He who has believed and has been baptized shall be saved; but he who had disbelieved shall be condemned” (Mk 16:16).
[6] Ibid., 437. It is not completely clear whether Luther has in mind sects who teach that baptism is of no use for salvation, or of no use whatsoever. Since he later argues against the former, I am inclined to think this is who he has in mind here. The editor leaves the following footnote: “This was an argument used by some left-wing radicals in the sixteenth century.” But this does not tell us which radicals he had in mind.
[7] Ibid., 438. As we will see later, this basic paradigm accounts for all the radical things Luther says about baptismal water, the utter reliability of baptism even if the recipient has no faith, the efficacy of baptism, and baptism as conveying more than just grace, but God himself.
[8] Ibid., 437. Herein also is Luther’s response to those who accuse him of believing in salvation by works. “Yes, it is true that our works are of no use for salvation. Baptism, however, is not our work but God’s…” Ibid., 441.
[9] Ibid., 438.
[10] Ibid., 438. Here Luther more clearly does not have in mind those who say that baptism is “of no use,” whatsoever, but anyone who would deny baptism to be a work which literally saves the soul. That is, since God has commanded baptism and promised salvation through it (Mk 16:16), that is enough to silence any critic who would ridicule the notion of baptismal regeneration. “Our know-it-alls, the new spirits, assert that faith alone saves and that works and external things contribute nothing to this end. … But these leaders of the blind are unwilling to see that faith must have something to believe—something to which it may cling and upon which it may stand [the promise of salvation in baptism]. Thus faith clings to the water and believes it to be Baptism in which there is sheer salvation and life, not through the water, as we have sufficiently stated, but through its incorporation with God’s Word and ordinance and the joining of his name to it.” [emphasis mine] Ibid., 440.
[11] Ibid., 440. Later, I will refer to this in terms of a sacramental limitation of saving grace.
[12] Ibid., 440. “God’s works [such as baptism], however, are salutary and necessary for salvation, and they do not exclude but rather demand faith, for without faith they could not be grasped. Just by allowing the water to be poured over you, you do not receive Baptism in such a manner that it does you any good. But it becomes beneficial to you if you accept it as God’s command and ordinance, so that, baptized in the name of God, you may receive in the water the promised salvation. This the hand cannot do, nor the body, but the heart must believe it. … Actually, we insist on faith alone as so necessary that without it nothing can be received or enjoyed.” Ibid., 441.
[13] Tranvik argues that Luther saw pre-baptism faith as a human work, not the work of God, and thus he considered anyone who believed faith came before baptism to be in the same heretical camp with Rome, trusting in human works and denying the gospel. “Therefore, one dare not base his baptism on his faith. For who can be sure if he really believes? The Enthusiasts’ stress on subjectivity, like the late medieval view of penance and monasticism, troubles Luther because it put the question of salvation back into the hands of a frail and doubting humanity. … From Luther’s perspective, the dispute with the Enthusiasts is not merely about the nature of material things and whether or not they can be mediums of the divine. Rather, the gospel itself is at stake. … In his conflict with enthusiasm, Luther suspects that faith itself is being idolized, the very faith that is subject to the vagaries of human moods and emotions. Faith simply cannot bear that burden and remain salvific. Again, as was the case with Rome, Luther believes the enthusiasts are shrouding the life-giving promise. God must move from the external to the internal. To reverse the order is to make faith a work and set up a pernicious ordo salutis based on law. What Luther did was expose the essential nomism of the Enthusiasts.” Tranvik, “Luther on Baptism,” 32-33. “And he most sharply rejects the attempt to determine whether or not an adult believes, particularly in the form in which it was practices by the Baptists.” Althaus, The Theology of Marin Luther, 365. Luther considered the Anabaptists to be sects of the devil. “Here we come to a question by which the devil confuses the world through his sects, the question of infant Baptism.” Luther, The Book of Concord, 442.
[14] “I say the same thing about the baptized one who receives or grounds his baptism on his faith. For he is not sure of his own faith….Neither the baptizer nor the baptized can maintain his position, for both are uncertain of their faith, or at least are in constant peril and anxiety. … For the verse does not say, ‘Whoever knows that he believes, or, if you know that anyone believes,’ but it says, ‘Whoever believes.’ Who has it, has it. One must believe, but we neither should nor can know it for certain.” Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, vol 40, Church and Ministry II, ed. Conrad Bergendoff, gen ed. Helmut T. Lehmann (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Muhlenberg Press, 1960), 240-41.
[15] Luther, The Book of Concord, 445.
[16] Luther, The Book of Concord, 445.
[17] Luther, The Book of Concord, 442.
[18] Luther, The Book of Concord, 445.
[19] Luther, The Book of Concord, 445.
[20] Although Luther did argue elsewhere that “Children must believe for themselves and must believe at the time of baptism,” he does not make this argument in the Large Catechism. Althaus, The Theology of Marin Luther, 365. Althaus’ summary, however, is helpful to understand Luther’s argument that infant baptism does not depend on faith but on the Word of promise: “Children are to be baptized not because it can be proved they believe, but because infant baptism is scriptural and the will of God. … He is certain that children believe because infant baptism is right and valid—and for no other reason.” Ibid, 365.
[21] Luther, The Book of Concord, 442.
[22] In the beginning of the next paragraph he uses the word “infant” as a synonym: “But if you wish to answer, then say: That the Baptism of infants is pleasing to Christ is sufficiently proved from his own work.” Ibid., 442.
[23] Ibid., 442.
[24] Ibid., 442. “Now, if God did not accept the Baptism of infants, he would not have given any of them the Holy Spirit nor any part of him: in short, all this time down to the present day no man on earth could have been a Christian.” Ibid., 442-43.
[25] Ibid., 443.
[26] “I myself, and all who are baptized, must say before God: ‘I cannot build on the fact that I believe and many people are praying for me. On this I build, that it is thy Word and command.’ We bring the child with the purpose and hope that he may believe, and we pray God to grant him faith. But we do not baptize him on that account, but solely on the command of God. Why? Because we know that God does not lie.” Ibid., 443-44.
[27] Ibid., 443. Although Lohse says that “Luther gave centrality to the duality of ‘promise’ (promissio) and ‘faith’ (fides),” he actually gave more prominence to promise and command, since he held that baptism depended only on these, and therefore is “valid” though faith “be lacking.” Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology, 300.
[28] Luther, The Book of Concord, 443.
[29] Ibid., 443. “Similarly, those who partake unworthily of the Lord’s Supper receive the true sacrament even though they do not believe.”
[30] Ibid., 444.
[31] Ibid., 444.
[32] Ibid., 443.
[33] Ibid., 445.
Luther’s Doctrine of Baptism, intro
The next several posts will be about Luther’s doctrine of baptism. The point is to critique his doctrine and show that by the standards of many of today’s defenders of reformed orthodoxy, Luther didn’t really believe the gospel. This is because Luther didn’t really believe in sola fide, which many of today’s defenders of reformed orthodoxy think is the essence of the gospel. Of course, I think Luther believed the gospel. But that’s because my understanding of the gospel is more basic than notions of the gospel that developed during the polemics of the Reformation.
Although teachers from Reformed traditions tend to venerate Luther as the great reformer who rescued the church from a sacramental understanding of salvation to an understanding of salvation by faith alone apart from any external “works,” [as understood by today’s defenders of reformed orthodoxy] this caricature could not be further from the truth. On the one hand, Luther scratched five of the seven sacraments off the sacred list. On the other hand, when it came to a sacramental paradigm, Luther was virtually Roman Catholic.[1] Of course, as one might expect, in his polemics against Rome he emphasized the need for faith. Nevertheless, as we will see, in his polemics against certain protestant sects, Luther both denied the need for faith during the administration of baptism and boasted in the efficacy of the sacrament as conferring nothing less than the fullness of salvation. While in different polemical contexts, Luther’s teaching on baptism had radically different emphases, his basic understanding of baptism never underwent a substantial change.[2]
This blog series is an attempt to survey the great reformer’s most basic teaching concerning baptism in The Large Catechism in order to orient the reader to his basic sacramental paradigm for baptism, demonstrate that this framework of thought for baptismal regeneration and infant baptism in The Large Catechism is foundationally dependent upon an unproven hermeneutical judgment and that Luther’s defense of it is entangled in a number of logical fallacies. In the conclusive post, I will make a brief suggestion concerning what significance Luther’s view of baptism bears on the interpretation of the Reformation slogan attributed to him—sola fide.
[1] Lohse makes the judgment that although Luther “with his emphasis on the strict correlation of baptism and faith…gave new accent to traditional baptismal theology…on the whole [he] did not attack it.” Bernhard Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology: Its Historical and Systematic Development, trans. Roy A. Harrisville (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Fortress Press, 1999), 303. Lohse also recognizes that Luther appealed to “the concept of the sacrament as ‘effective in itself’ (ex opere operato)” in his defense of infant baptism. Ibid, 302.
[2] Mark D. Tranvik, “Luther on Baptism,” Harvesting Martin Luther’s Reflections on Theology, Ethics, and the Church, ed. Timothy J. Wengert (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004), 24.
das Gefühl ad nauseam: Friedrich Schleiermacher’s Paradigm for Christian Theology
Although the name Schleiermacher (1768-1834) is notoriously hard to spell, his name appears in every serious treatment of contemporary theology precisely because his theology is just as notoriously hard to expel from the influence of Christian thought. He is not called the “Father of Liberalism” without good reason. His “children” still carry out his basic paradigm in contemporary theological development. If we can speak of the history of Western Philosophy in terms of Pre- and Post-Kantian, then perhaps we could almost just as easily speak of Christian theology as Pre- or Post-Schleiermachian. His influence is not easily exaggerated. How did Christianity go from a reliance on biblical revelation, belief in the supernatural, reliance on a personal creator God, and defining its core in terms of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, to a reliance on philosophy, an allergic reaction to the supernatural, reliance on personal subjective consciousness, and defining its core in terms of grand feeling (das Gefühl) of dependence on the greater whole of existence? Although it may seem quite a leap for Schleiermacher to go from a conservative Pietist upbringing to a completely new paradigm for Christian theology, to be sure, his thought did not develop in a vacuum. By paying close attention to the effect of Enlightenment ideas on his generation, it becomes easier to see how Schleiermacher’s views, though a great leap from historical Christianity, was more like a baby step from the sentimental philosophical paradigm which was gaining popularity in his day...
Romanticism’s Apparent Influence on Schleiermacher
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The latter period of the Enlightenment (in which Schleiermacher was born) began to see reactions against reason’s claim to supremacy and sufficiency for all knowledge. Many began to look at a reduction of reality to neat scientific and rational formulations as a gross misrepresentation of the complexity of reality. As a result of the late eighteenth and nineteenth century Romanticism, mystery and imagination fought for the honored seat at the round table of legitimate expressions of that transcendant reality. The Romantics, as they were called, did not believe that ultimate reality could be known to finite human minds. Science and formal reason, they argued, are only one kind of “logic” by which humans make decisions of value and truth—and not even the most important kind either. After all, people do not tend to make decisions about love and friendships based on a certain scientific data or after a long and hard-fought deductive method of reasoning. Intuition, inspiration, imagination, and intense emotions that energize the human will, in the view of a Romantic, comprise the real “stuff” of life and ultimate reality. In Schleiermacher’s day, there was a new emphasis on the epistemological implications of such realities. Rationality began to be seen as cold and restrictive, much like the Enlightenment thinkers thought of the religious authoritarianism they hoped to overcome.
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In comes Schleiermacher. While Schleiermacher followed Kant in seeing the need for placing theological discussion on a locus other than pure reason (see above essay on Kant), neither did he wish to consider Christianity as a form of knowledge or a system of morality, as Kant implied. Rather, Schleiermacher saw religion as grounded in das Gefühl—an awareness of one’s own existence on the one hand (consciousness) with one’s dependency on God on the other (God consciousness). For him, then, the role of theology was to explore and explain the implications of that feeling of dependence.
.An Extra-Textual Approach to Defining Traditional Christian Terms
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Of course, if one has come this far down the road over discussions on proposing an alternative to basic trust in the Bible (see previous essay on the Enlightenment), the Bible’s teachings about the foundations of knowledge are already considered passé. Thus, for those who were “enlightened” with a new approach to knowledge, if the Bible is to be understood as having any relevance to real knowledge, it must be re-interpreted in light of enlightenment presuppositions. This was an extra-textual approach to theology: starting from a certain adherence to a philosophy derived from outside the Bible, by which one then proceeds to interpret the Bible according to its standards—rejecting or reinterpreting wherever discrepancies exist. Based on this combination of Romanticism and Kantian epistemology, Schleiermacher built an extra-textual approach to Scripture, and built his theology on the foundation of das Gefühl. Anything that could be shown not to have any correspondence to this Gefühl was thereby deemed by Schleiermacher as irrelevant for theology. Thus, while the doctrine of creation was seen as constructive toward cultivating this sense of dependence, the mode of creation had no such convenience to theological development. The Genesis account of creation may or may not be historically accurate—as Schleiermacher himself did not believe it was—but this is not what is important. Even if it were historically accurate, however, it would not necessarily inform our feeling of dependency, and therefore, should never be made into an article of faith which defines the nature of Christianity. Such doctrines are not rejected because they are necessarily incompatible with science, but because they do not bear direct relation to the human experience of Gefühl. Furthermore, doctrinal formulation as such is of secondary importance, since its purpose is to explain and cultivate the all important experience of Gefühl.
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The primary religious truth of Christianity is redemption, which is an experience, not a doctrine. This experience, following the Germen pietistic notions in which Schleiermacher was raised, is the essence of Christian piety—the fundamental basis for theology. For Christianity, however, this is not merely a subjective piety but a corporate one. Christianity, according to Schleiermacher, affords a superior level of God-consciousness than what one might come to on her own or through some other religion. The origins of this heightened piety must be traced back to a sufficient cause: Jesus. Heresy is redefined as doctrine which fails to give an adequate explanation for this sufficient cause. Since Christ’s activity has such great effects on producing such widespread and intense God-consciousness, we must give adequate attention to his person to account for this. What kind of person could be such a catalyst for such higher-order piety? A superior to be sure, in two ways: his own level of God-consciousness and his ability to impart this feeling to others. Inadequate attempts to give a sufficient cause, therefore, of Christian origins, play out in either failing to account for his work of imparting this Gefühl to others (the redemptive work of Christ) or in failing to account for what kind of person could be capable of not only having, but powerfully imparting such higher experiences of Gefühl to others (the person of Christ). That is, heresy is the result of failing to ascribe to Christ’s person what his activity demands, thus failing to have an acceptable form of Christian faith.
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Schleiermacher did not, however, see Christianity as the only source of meaningful theology. The feeling of dependence is universal, and therefore it is inevitable that all religious language would find some way to divulge it. Religious tradition passed on from generation to generation helps people to experience and better understand das Gefühl. In this sort of framework, non-Christian religions, although inferior to Christianity, are not so much “wrong” as they are different and second-rate ways of affirming the one common human experience of das Gefühl.
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Such a paradigm for theology redefined Christianity. This way of doing Christian theology, using the traditional language of Christ, redemption, doctrine, heresy, etc., yet infusing meanings in them foreign to the traditional confessional statements of Christianity (and foreign to Jesus’ own first century Jewish framework to be sure) inevitably created great confusion in the church over the real meaning of Christianity. Who is God the Father? The whole of reality. Who is Jesus? The perfect ideal of God-consciousness. Who is the Spirit? An ability to interpret this feeling of dependance in a common way. What is Sin? Lack of God-consciousness. What is the Genesis account of the Fall? A symbol of the lack of God-consciousness. Why should we preach the word? To evoke this God-consciousness to new levels. What is salvation? Connecting with our God-consciousness.
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In this project, Schleiermacher literally carved out a whole new path for being Christian and doing Christian theology. His ideas were not just a new development of traditional Christian thought. They assumed a posture of casual dismissal of such thought and an attempt to subvert the historic Christian faith with something more “relevant” to a Post-Enlightenment world. It would be a careless understatement to say that Schleiermacher’s new paradigm was picked up by later theologians. His theology was not just picked up by some. In many cases, it virtually replaced Christianity. His influence was deep and wide. The tradition is known as Classical Liberal Theology. After Schleiermacher’s bold move, Christianity was never the same.
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Although those who came after him varied in their own take of the essence of Christianity, all sought to redefine it with extra-textual philosophical frameworks. Several common themes run throughout this classic period of Liberal Theology which might be considered to have followed (in some way) or further developed Schleiermacher’s theology: 1) allowing for a disconnect between science, history, and reason on the one hand, and religion on the other, 2) taking for granted that the referents for religious language are sufficiently explained outside of a transcendent reference point (i.e. reducing theology to anthropology), 3) attempting to boil all religions down to some commonality in human experience (i.e. pluralism), 4) attempting to find the value in Scripture by going beyond the original intent of the authors, adapting such texts to current modes of thinking (i.e. extra-textual hermeneutics), 5) accepting Kantian starting points (i.e. anti-supernaturalism, noumena vs. phenomena), 6) downplaying the importance of church dogma (i.e. anti-confessionalism), 7) forfeiting any real hope to establish the uniqueness of Christ (i.e. Christianity as superior in degree rather than superior in kind), 8) holding a naïve optimism with respect to human nature, 9) attempting to get beyond the biblical texts about Jesus to discover the Jesus of history (i.e. the quest for the historical Jesus), 10) reducing world religions down to the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man, 11) reducing Christianity to ethical and social concerns (e.g. the social gospel).
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Although Classical Liberal Theology would eventually be challenged, even Karl Barth, arguably one of Classical Liberal Theology’s most vocal critics, when asked by Carl Henry whether or not the resurrection was historical, refused to answer the question and downplayed the importance of such questions. This approach to theology of which Schleiermacher is considered the “father,” eventually took over much of mainline Protestantism in what is known now as the modernist controversy. The theology of Vatican II in many respects gave way to the spirit of the modernist age, leaving a permanent impact on confessional Roman Catholicism as well as protestantism. In short, Schleiermacher’s approach to Christianity spawned a new epoch.
From Enlightenment to Liberal Theology: How the "Light" Led to the Dark Ages of Theology
These next two posts will be about how the Enlightenment, and reactions to it, eventually played a major causal role (among other causes) in the rise of liberal theology. Overviews of history always distort things; there is no escaping it. I will no doubt (as all do) oversimplify things. Experts on these subjects are welcome to correct me and help me better understand the nuances that my presentation may obscure, or challenge my thesis altogether. However, I am not alone in my opinions here. I am taking my queues from fallable experts:
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Alister E. McGrath, The Making of Modern German Christology, 1750-1990, second edition (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2005).
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Revolutions in Worldview: Understanding the Flow of Western Thought, edited by W. Andrew Hoffecker (Phillipsburg, New Jersey: P&R Publishers, 2007).
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After the Darkness, There Were Competing Lights
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“After the darkness, there was light.” At least that is how enlightenment thinkers conceived of the radical change that began to take place in the mid-seventeenth century and lasted until the middle of the nineteenth century. Although it might be more accurately portrayed in the plural ‘Enlightenments’ to underscore the diversity of perspectives during this period, the popular icons of this period sought freedom from superstition and religious authority on the one hand, to reach terra nova through reason and science on the other. It is characterized as an age of optimism. Many from this period had become fed up with years of religious persecution when the church killed “heretics” (anyone who disagreed with the reigning religious persuasion), and were eager to overcome the age-old hostile debates between Catholics and Protestants through reason. This can be seen in the decline of authoritarian institutions such as the nobility and the church and the rise of the middle class and nationalism. Paralleling these more secular drifts of the Enlightenment was a series of evangelical “Awakenings” in
Britain, Jansenism in France, Pietism in Germany, and the Great Awakening in America. Both the Awakenings and the Enlightenments had incredible impacts on the culture, and would ultimately compete for the allegiance of the hearts and minds of Western Culture.
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Alternatives to a Revelation-Dependant Epistemology Proposed
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Francis Bacon (1561-1626) was the forerunner for the Enlightenment period. His obsession to find the one true method for settling all disputes about fact and truth would become typical of the enlightenment optimism. He argued for a revolution in the approach to knowledge. He inverted the method of his day, rationalism and deductive reasoning, and argued that one should arrive at the general maxims last, only after beginning anew and rebuilding the foundations of knowledge through an inductive method. Not long after Bacon published his popular book, Lord Herbert of Cherbury (1582/3-1648) proposed that religion should only accept what is rational. Such a sentiment would become the typical modus operandi for Deism.
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John Locke (1632-1704) influenced the minds of many with his Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) in which he tried to provide foundations for knowledge by arguing that ideas were not a priori but rather, each person is born with a tabula rasa (“blank slate”) and knowledge comes through sensation and reflection. Locke also pushed for certain political changes, most notably: 1) toleration for all religious persuasions except for Roman Catholics, rather than a state church that enforced its views and 2) democracy based on the consent of the governed. Although John Locke himself was somewhat of a Christian apologist, he gave reason and science the authority in his epistemological system. He denied John Calvin’s claim that a basic knowledge of God was a priori, rejected the doctrine of original sin, and saw education as the key to transformation.
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If Reason Can’t Demonstrate it, It Aint So
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As rationalism and science gained more authority, deism became more intellectually credible than traditional Christian faith. Although Sir Isaac Newton (1624-1727) himself believed in an open universe, his laws of motion were picked up and used in an ever-increasingly secular model of science in which belief in miracles and the supernatural were considered anti-science. In an attempt to demonstrate that nothing in Christianity was contrary or above reason, Deists like John Toland (1670-1722) and Matthew Tindal (1655-1733) bent over backwards to reduce the central teachings of Christianity to things that can be universally verifiable. This went beyond Locke, who allowed for adherence to truths which were “beyond” reason, and cultivated an attitude that rejected everything that could not be grasped by human reason. If humans cannot explain it, it must not be true—so much for doctrines about the incarnations of a deity, or substitutionary atonements, or miracles such as the rising of the dead. Reason alone will not lead to such notions, therefore, they must be rejected as a naiveté of the primitive thought.
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Wipe Out the Imfamy! (trans-rational religion)
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Voltaire (1694-78) was the leader in the French Enlightenment (along with other men, together known as the philosophes). They escalated the revolution one step further. Whereas the deists were trying to associate their views with traditional Christianity, Voltaire was willing to sever all ties to Christianity and attack every major Christian doctrine with great hostility, chanting, “Wipe out the infamy” (i.e. organized Christianity). Christianity was thought by these men to be antithetical to reason and natural religion, so they sought to break the anciene regime’s strong hold on French culture. The French revolution was radical, political, and bloody.
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Taking the Rejection of Revelation to it’s Logical End
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By the time David Hume (1711-76) appears on the scene, he represented the British Enlightenment’s most radical and skeptical form. He took the culture’s rejection of certainty through revelation to its logical conclusion. His Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1758) and Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779) resulted in a reduction of what people thought of as firm “knowledge” down to habits of association of ideas united by the imagination and given names. He showed that there is no certainty that what we perceive with our senses actually directly corresponds with reality, and that the categories we put on our sense perceptions are also arbitrary habits that cannot be proven to be accurate. Perhaps nothing lies behind our sense perceptions; perhaps reason itself is just an arbitrary habit we humans have. Although Hume was skeptical, this did not stop him from making all sorts of arguments with his reasoning faculties. He gained notoriety for giving a conclusive argument against the possibility of miracles, establishing the empiricist maxim: Whatever books do not have experimental reasoning about matters of fact and existence, Commit them to the flames! He also was thought to have disproved the knowledge of self and God, along with knowledge of cause and effect that served as a basis for science.
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Revelation, Reason, Science, and a Change in Light Posture
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It must be pointed out that science and reason were not discovered during the Enlightenment, but they were developing disciplines long before they took center stage during the Enlightenment. Questions of human existence, the meaning of life, the destiny of man, the existence God, along with questions about metaphysics, ethics, and morality were largely settled by religious beliefs—Christianity in particular. The shift during the Enlightenment was a shift from thinking that the most ultimate questions about human existence were not clearly spelled out in scientific data and must be found in revelation, to a distrust in revelation (long years of religious wars may have helped that along) and an optimism on the ability of science to discover and unravel the ultimate questions of life. To say it another way, theology as the “queen” of science was dethroned by virtue of the dethroning of the king himself—revelation. Although science existed before the Enlightenment, science began to take the place of sole arbitrator of all truth.
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Inasmuch as science was a form of human reason, some pointed out that science itself was dependant on reason and philosophy. This created a competition for the epistemological throne of all knowledge. Empiricism on the one hand championed the inductive method as supreme (as seen in John Locke) while rationalism (as seen in Descartian philosophy) on the other championed deductive reasoning as the only sure method for establishing the credibility of knowledge (even scientific knowledge). Without a great deal of exaggeration we might say that the Enlightenment witnessed a change in light posture. The “light” from science and reason before the Enlightenment was in a posture of humble submission to a divine revelation. After the Enlightenment, science and reason began lording it over divine revelation, forcing that revelation to submit to modern science and human reason—whether that meant an outright denial of revelation’s claims, or creative ways of interpreting that revelation so that it still fit what seemed “reasonable” to the modern mind. The most devestating shift for religion was when this came to mean that truth claims in religion not only had to be compatable with science and reason, but had to be verifiable by science and reason. This effectively placed science and reason as the only ultimate grounds for knowing anything for sure. If reason or science can’t demonstrate it—it probably aint so! (or at least you shouldn’t count your life on it) Note: One can see how easily this transitions to pluralism and the relativization of religious truth claims: We don’t really who’s right and who’s wrong unless science can arbitrate truth claims, yet we can’t say that these claims are not true, for they transcend verification principles of science and reason. Maybe they have truth in them which will one day be verified by science and reason, but sceince and reason are “where it’s at.”
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Can’t Reason and Science “Get Along?”: Immanuel Kant
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If the Enlightenment can be seen as in great part a struggle for an alternative epistemological foundation to the revelation-dependant framework of traditional Christianity, then it could also be seen as a virtual king-of-the-hill competition between a robust rationalism on the one hand, and a “see it to believe it” empiricism on the other. Following this oversimplification, Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) might be seen as the man who broke up the fight and attempted to make peace between these two paradigms by taking the best from each and fusing them together into a system known as epistemological dualism or Rational Empiricism. Although in light of the debates of his contemporaries the genius in which he was able to pull this off is hard to follow for those who are not schooled in Enlightenment philosophy, his basic epistemological outlook is rather simple. He was a rationalist who tried to make room for scientific empiricism. His theory was that the rational mind imposes innate (a priori) categories on all empirical sense perception, thereby interpreting them and playing a more fundamental role with respect to knowledge construction, yet leaving room for meaningful knowledge construction by the scientific method. **If all one had was a series of sense perceptions without categories of the mind to interpret and relate the data, life would be a meaningless string of consecutive sense perceptions that bore zero relation to one another. On the other hand, if all one had were empty “filing” categories without sensory data to be “filed” in them, they remain completely blank. According to Kant, however, if we proceed as though these categories of the mind are legitimate, we can have constructive interpretation of the sensory data resulting in meaningful knowledge.
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Did Kant Leave Us With With a Hole in the Epistemicological Boat?
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It is important to notice that Kant’s basic approach involves a posture of skepticism with regard to the certainty of all knowledge. Only if the imposing categories of the mind can be trusted can we be sure our knowledge corresponds to reality. However, as Kant stressed, we cannot prove these categories to be precise. We cannot escape these categories so as to experience reality apart from the mediation of them. If we were able to somehow “cut out the middle man” of our mediating categories, this could be called direct knowledge or Noumena (knowledge apart from the construction of the mind). Unfortunately for Kant, all knowledge construction is based on Phenomena instead—reality as it appears to us by the mediation of our mental categories. As Kant understood it, then, hard science is a combination of sense experience and mental interpretation. However, when this paradigm is extended to Christian theology, Kant believed such theology is mere speculation because knowledge about metaphysics (beyond the physical, beyond matter) is by definition beyond our sense perception. We have never seen, tasted, heard, or felt God by mediation of our senses, thus our language about such things bears no correspondence to any immediate human experience, nor is God one of the 12 inborn categories (“filing cabinets”) of the human mind (at least according to Kant). With neither a fundamental a priori grounding, nor a fundamental empirical grounding, God-talk can only be justified from the standpoint of deduction or indirect reasoning (i.e. speculation).
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So what does all this have to do with Christian theology? Everything. Although for Kant all knoweldge is phenomenalogical, and therefore it cannot be ultimately verified, even once one grants that our minds construe sense data with basic reliability, language about metaphysical realities go “beyond” sense perception and are not one of the twelve innate mental categories. God-talk, therefore, is on epistemologically slippery ground. If we adopt Kant’s paradigm for knowledge construction, religious language only becomes relevant inasmuch as it is able to capture something of direct human experience. Talk about God, anything beyond scientific verification or that which reason necessitates becomes passé and looked upon as mere speculation.
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The Enlightenment as the Leavening Effect of the Renaissance Era
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If the Renaissance Era (1300’s-1600’s) saw the “rebirth” of classical texts, which texts began to provide a canon or dialogue point in the educational enterprise, then the Enlightenment might be seen as the fruit of this new canon in the hands of those fed up with religious authoritarianism and looking for an alternative authority for truth. Although initially the revival of classic texts aided the Reformation’s conservative views on Scripture, in the long run this revival led to a replacement in European culture of the biblical worldview. When more attention is given to Philosophy and science than the Bible, over time this has the effect, not only of eroding the authority of basic biblical presuppositions and produced radical forms of skepticism, but it also of initiating creative new ways of interpreting the Bible so that it fits with one’s pre-commitments to a certain philosophy (whether or not the authors of the Bible ever intended their writings to be interpreted in this way). Nowhere is this leavening effect more evident than in the epistemological revolution that took place in the period of the Enlightenment. It was during the Enlightenment that the Bible began to be interpreted by deists in a creative way that enabled them to stiff-arm the Bible actual teachings in favor of their own philosophy of deism. The supernatural aspects of the Bible are reinterpreted to have only a symbolic and/or ethical meaning, not a metaphysical “dogma.” It is this bold step of hermeneutical creativity which can be seen to have given rise to the Classical Liberal Theology in the latter days of the Enlightenment.
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In my next post, I will discuss Romantacism as a reaction to the Enlightenment, and Schleiermacher as case in point of the causal connection between the Enlightenment and Liberal Theology, for he is considered the father of Classical Liberal Theology.
T4G 08: Mixed Afterthoughts, pt. 2
Before I make any remarks about my mixed feeling at T4G (a conference which is by now old news to most bloggers), I want to express a few words of gratitude.
Together for the Gospel or Together for Calvinism?
In my last post, I talked about how deeply Mark Dever’s point about not confusing the gospel with non-essentials resonated with me personally. When I first became a Calvinist, I became acclimated to the Reformed flavor of preaching and teaching. I have been a member at churches that regularly bashed other Christian churches on a normal basis from the pulpit as a matter of habit. After attending for a while, I was infected myself and began to think of our Reformed communities as something like the only true remnant of uncompromised and reverent Christianity that took the Bible seriously. Everyone else was entertainment based, man-centered, and unbiblical; influenced either by liberalism or the world. Young Reformed types that come from Southern have a reputation for splitting churches over Calvinism. This is a fact. In disbelief I have listened to devastated church members tell me about how painful it was to see their once tight knit community divorce themselves from fellowship. It can be a whole lot like a family feud: ugly, painful, leaving scars, bitterness and disillusionment.
Unfortunately, I thought T4G revealed a blind spot in this area. Though the banner of the conference is “Together for the Gospel,” John MacArthur’s message was all about total inability (i.e. Calvinism). Now, I would have been more comfortable if his message demonstrated sensitivity to this distinction. Perhaps his message could have been introduced something like this: “I strongly believe that the doctrine of total inability is a strong safeguard for the gospel. Therefore, although we have come together for this core belief, and although I love my brothers and sisters who do not believe in total inability, and recognize them as co-equals together in the gospel, I would nevertheless like to spend my time commending this doctrine because I think it helps protect our basic beliefs in the gospel.” But rather than anything even approaching this sort of sensitivity, I was disappointed to hear just the opposite. As he was waxing eloquent on total inability, he compared it to other “false gospels” as if he understood the doctrine of total inability to be the “true gospel.” To make matters worse, Mark Dever of all people (just before his message about not referring to non-gospel doctrines as “the gospel”), commends MacArthur’s message, referring to it as an wonderful exposition of “the gospel.” Surely I wasn’t the only one who noticed this apparent inconsistency.
In a context when 1) Seminary students are splitting churches over Calvinism, 2) recent rumors spread about the SBC possibly splitting over Armenian vs. Calvinism issues just before the Calvinism debate between Mohler and Paige Patterson (who wisely spent much time in that debate demonstrating their unity in spite of their differences), 3) close friends of mine are finding it sadly curious that I would go to a church that wasn’t “on board” with all the stuff we are learning in seminary, 4) Pastors are finding their churches identity more in Calvinism than the gospel (speaking from my own experience here), the T4G seemed to me to be perpetuating this unfortunate confusion between Calvinism and the Gospel. Note: I’m not saying that John MacArthur would say he didn’t think Norman Geisler was a Christian, but it’s safe to say that he thinks Norman Geisler, in some sense, has a “false gospel.” I wonder how a guy like John Wesley would have felt if he were to enthusiastically volunteer his support of a “Together for the Gospel” conference, only to find the preachers more interested in propagating the younger ministers with Calvinism.
At another point during the conference, I was walking by the booths set up along the side of the bookstore. As I stumbled upon a booth with an eager man representing the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, I began to question him whether his organization was for all evangelicals. “Certainly,” he replied with great enthusiasm. But as I questioned further, he seemed to get a little tongue tied. “So …” I asked casually, ” … does your organization try to reach, encourage, and include Arminian churches also, or is this more for Reformed types?” My question seemed to catch the man off guard. He replied something like, “Well … you don’t have to agree with us about every point of doctrine to support our organization or give money to it.” (notice this does not really answer my question) As I looked at the back of the promotion magazine, I noticed that all the names of the council members I recognized were Reformed. I read one of the articles of faith that represented the alliance. It’s doctrinal statement exalted the Reformation and bashed the present day church at large for being worldly and having everything wrong. It summed up all these things like this: “The loss of God’s centrality in the life of today’s church is common and lamentable.” I wondered whether such an alliance was something like an “Alliance of the Confessing Reformed” moreso than an inclusive alliance of all those who confess the common gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ (whether or not they are “Reformed”).
Relevant Truth: We should never call any church that believes the gospel “shallow” in its theology, unless we wish to imply that the gospel, which they hold to and teach, is itself shallow.
Unfortunate Casualties in the “Truth War”
There also seemed to be an agenda at the conference to stamp a WARNING label on what is known as The Emerging Church. What I have to say here will be briefer than what has come before.
Several attempts have been made to distinguish between different streams of the Emerging Church, so as the distinguish the Reformed and conservative types (like Mark Driscol, Darren Patrick, and others) from those who are apparently (and I stress ‘apparently’ because even Driscol, who is friends with Doug Paggit, Brian McLaren, Tony Jones, and all the big wig names [with the exception of Rob Bell], isn’t sure what their official stance is on certain controversial doctrines) taking liberal stances on issues thought to set the boundaries for historic Christianity. The former are called “Emerging,” and the latter “Emergent.” Nevertheless, some evangelicals who are eager to warn Christians of the liberal streams of this movement have not taken care to protect the faithful gospel ministry of the conservative gospel-centered streams of this movement. Harsh things are said about the “Emerging” movement. They are still lumping them all together under the label without taking note of the features of this complex movement. At T4G, if my memory fails me not, Dr. Mohler quoted one of the authors who supposedly represents the “Emergent” crowd (the apparently liberal crowd) on their teaching about the atonement. Steve Chalk, I think, was his name. Chalk apparently called the doctrine of substitutionary atonement, “divine child abuse.” After quoting this author, Mohler, if I’m not mistaking, made a comment about how this is the kind of theology coming from the “Emerging” church, and that the “Emerging church” was a threat to the very central tenants of the Christian gospel.
I think we should not only point out bad theology, but also, in light of a T4G banner, to go out of our way to protect from malignment our faithful brothers in Christ who labor for the same gospel we do—and perhaps are laboring harder than us (given the growth spurts of the movement).
T4G 08: Mixed Afterthoughts
Prescript: I really didn’t want to post about T4G until I had plenty of time to go back and quote from the actual words spoken at the conference. Because of major time restraints, I’ve decided to just post based on my memory instead. I have taken the liberty to paraphrase and loose quote, but if my account is off, feel free to let me know.
Helpful in Many Ways
The Celebrity Mystique – Never has a conference held so many of my own hero’s who have shaped me as I have listened to their messages and/or interviews and/or lectures: John Piper, John MacArthur, R.C. Sproul. My own convictions have been shaped more by these men than by all my college and seminary professors over the years. T4G was intended to draw a large crowd by it’s “celebrity” impact. Mark Dever joked about this at the beginning of the conference. He said they knew they could draw a large crowd this way even though they disagree with the whole “celebrity” mentality. (I won’t take the time to speculate on what he means by that)
Dr. Mohler brought the heat by defending substitutionary atonement against certain recent attacks. His message was probably more fitting for a classroom lecture than a conference message (based on the responses I heard from some friends of mine who were not able to follow him, and based on C.J.’s comments afterward during the panel discussion). Nevertheless, I was able to follow and enjoy his critiques of modern attacks against this doctrine. His defense was timely and wholly appropriate to the theme of the conference, for Paul considered it among those things which are “of first importance” in the passing on of apostolic gospel proclamation, along with the resurrection (1 Cor 15:1-4ff).
John MacArthur basically walked us through the proof texts for a doctrine of “total inability.” I’m an 8 point Calvinist, so I nodded my head a great deal of the time, but this was nothing new.
Thabiti Anyabwile (pronounced by my own phonetic conventions as: thuh.bee.tee ahn.yah.bwee.leh). He challenged us to think of the whole category of “race” as both unhelpful and unbiblical. His definition for “race,” however, seemed to be one that most people do not at all intend by the use of the term. As he was speaking, I looked in my back-of-the-Bible concordance to see if the word “race” was used in the Bible. Sure enough, it occurs in the Bible several times. I thought it was unfortunate, since the Bible is our final and ultimate authority, that Thabiti did not address this apparent tension with his call for us to think of the category of “race” as unbiblical. Have the translators got it wrong all these years?
Dictionary.com shows that the most common definition for “race” is this: a group of persons related by common descent or heredity. According to the same source, the most common understanding of “heredity” is the following: the transmission of genetic characters from parents to offspring. These genetic differences might be as superficial as skin and hair color, as bothersome as unattractive physical traits, or as serious as trends of certain health problems.
Although one might quibble with the way Thabiti defined “race,” I heartily agreed with the spirit of the message. “Blacks” and “Whites” are not different species with biological categories of their own. There are more commonalities (“like me’s”) between all races within the humanity than there are differences. Or, if you like, we are all one race: the human race. I can walk into a group of people from India or Africa or wherever and still say, “Sinner, like me.” “Needs Christ, like me.” “Bear’s God’s image, like me.” “Human, like me.” We all descend from Adam.
Within the human race, there are ethnic cultures which defy any of the superficial “race” categories. Therefore, I agree with Thabiti that the category of ethnicity, which is a more fluid idea, is more helpful than “race,” for most people. I used to hate being told that I was “trying to be black,” just because all my closest friends were black and because I was immersed in the thug-hip-hop culture (baggy pants, Ebonics with slang words for everything, twisted caps, etc.). I was no more trying to be black than I was trying to be purple. It wasn’t about skin color. It was about culture. Thabiti has done us all a favor by helping us see that the category of ethnicity goes deeper, by reminding us that humans are more like each other than we are different from each other (we all bear God’s image), and finally, by reminding us that racism can show up in subtle ways (like where you sit and who you decide to talk to in a room full of people). His admonition for us to go out of our way to show unity across cultures was edifying and enriching to the atmosphere of T4G.
Note: I thought it was one of the more ironically humorous moments when just after Thabiti’s message about why “race” is not a helpful category, we sang a hymn that went something like this: “Ye chosen seed of Israel’s race….” I wish I could’ve seen Thabiti’s face and lips during that hymn (did he sing along?). lol!
John Piper gave a vintage message about how our ministry should be radical and sacrificial. He based this message on the passage in Hebrews, which he basically said was like the punch line of the whole book: “So, let us go out to [Jesus] outside the camp, bearing His reproach” (Heb 13:13). The panel discussion following his message brought out a pleasant surprise (for me anyway). When asked what this radical sacrifice looks like for pastors who “aren’t going anywhere” (as C.J. put it) because of long-term commitments to their churches, Piper talked about normal day to day stuff. He didn’t talk about being sawed in half or being beaten to death in some Muslim country. He talked about enduring mistreatment as a pastor, suffering yourself to be confrontational with your kids, and other related areas of common obedience. This was unusually helpful for me. When I hear Piper preach, I often get the sense that he has something much greater in mind by “sacrifice” and “suffering” than the day-to-day stuff I experience. Sometimes I walk away from hearing Piper speak with a sense that I haven’t even begun to suffer or sacrifice the way he calls for in his messages. But after his clarification of what his exhortation “looks like” for a normal pastor, my eyes began to twinkle. Maybe I understand him after all.
I actually thought Mark Dever’s message was most significant. He encouraged us to make a distinction between the gospel on the one hand, and what we think are the implications of the gospel on the other. Much of his comments regarding this distinction encouraged us to be more gracious to our brothers and sisters in Christ who might have different opinions than we do on things not related directly to the gospel itself. Although he realized that some would criticize him as though he were trying to be reductionistic, he rightfully grounded his distinction as a way to actually protect the gospel. This distinction has the potential to overcome divisiveness in the church by fostering unity among all Christians who believe a common gospel. It’s easy to get caught up in our differing opinions about what we think the implications of the gospel are. Dever’s message was refreshing because of it’s potential for greater unity among Christians who believe in the incarnation, death, burial and resurrection and messiahship/lordship of Jesus Christ and yet, unfortunately, differ on almost everything else. Skizmatics are the worst of heretics, as Augustine liked to say.
Postscript: In this post, I have discussed only some of the ways in which T4G was very helpful. In my next post, I will share the grounds for some mixed feelings I experienced at the conference.
Critical Evaluation of Bonhoeffer on Discipleship (Part 2)
Bonhoeffer’s book on Discipleship is basically an attack against cheap grace using unqualified contradictions, eisegesis, a literal hermeneutic, legalistic standards and unhelpful advise. In my last post, I began my critique with a look at his doctrine of the situational precondition, and noted that it was an unqualified contradiction. In this unusually long post (at least, unusually long for me), I will attempt to ground my bold criticism of Bonhoeffer’s book on discipleship. Although I agree that grace is not cheap, and that discipleship should be radical, I don’t think Bonhoeffer has led us in the right direction. Rather than giving us a dependable paradigm of costly grace, I’m afraid Bonhoeffer bamboozles his readers with confusing rhetoric.
Because Bonhoeffer is so eager to denounce cheap grace (which he associates with mere confessional Christianity and abstract principles) he finds a way to link almost every passage to this topic. At several points he simply reads too much into the text in order to create an occasion to scorn his arch enemy: cheap grace. He believes the solution to cheap grace is his doctrine of the situational precondition (see previous post). He sees support for this doctrine in many of the texts. In other places his motives are not clear, but the fact that he sees something in the text which is not there is obvious enough.
For example, Bonhoeffer believes that one of the main points of Mark 2.14 is that the disciples followed Jesus without having any previous relationship with him (57). He believes Mark intended to underscore this very point. According to Bonhoeffer, these disciples followed Jesus before they really had “faith” in Him as the Christ: “The response of the disciples is an act of obedience, not a confession of faith in Jesus” (57). He makes the following conclusion from this misinterpretation: “It was not as though they first recognized him as the Christ and then received his command. They believed his word and command [for them to follow] and [then] recognized him as the Christ—in that order” (226, emphasis mine).
While it is true that this text itself does not give an account of any such “confession,” (Levi does not recite the Chalcedonian or Nicene creed as the climax of the encounter) this observation should not lead us to any of Bonhoeffer’s brash conclusions. Both the horizontal and vertical contexts to Levi’s following not only imply that Levi, at that moment, put his faith in Christ—but it demands it. The disciples did not follow Jesus out of ignorance but confident expectation. It is true that some followed for the wrong reasons, but such is not the context in this passage.
The similar accounts in John’s gospel reveal that the following of the earliest disciples is based on their understanding of the identity of Jesus. It was when the disciples “heard” John the Baptist’s message about Jesus that they began to follow him (Jn 1.37). Though it is not made explicit in verse 36 that the disciples followed because they believed Jesus to be the Messiah (the text only emphasizes John’s proclamation of him being “the Lamb of God”), verse 40-41 reveals that this is exactly why they followed him. “One of the two who heard John speak and followed Him, was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He found first his own brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah‘” (Jn 1.40-41, emphasis mine).
The same connection is made with respect to Phillip. In the account of Phillip’s initial following, there is not necessarily a “confession of faith in Jesus,” but the next verse reveals that Phillip followed precisely because he believed Jesus to be “Him of whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (Jn 1.45). The confessions seem to become more explicit in each account of Jesus’ first followers. Just a few lines later, Nathanael confesses, “You are the Son of God; You are the King of Israel” (Jn 1.49). Perhaps Levi had never met Jesus in person before, but there is no reason to believe he had not heard of the testimony of John the Baptist.
There is no reason to believe that Levi—in contrast to all the other accounts— followed out of something other than faith in Jesus as the Christ. The way Bonhoeffer camps out on his point that Levi followed merely “for the sake of the call” is misleading in this regard (58). He makes this same mistake when he notes concerning Mathew 10.1-4 that “it is not a word or a doctrine they receive, but effective power, without which the work could not be done” (204). He fails to comment, however, that in the following verses Christ indeed gives the disciples commands to preach doctrine: even the word of the kingdom (Matt 10.7, 14, 20). It is not either/or (either word or power) but both/and (they receive both the word of the kingdom and the power to demonstrate its authority).
Moreover, confessions of faith have a place of prominence in the scriptures (Mt 10.32, 16.13-20, Jn 20.31, Phil 2.11, 1 Jn 4.3). Our “confession” of Jesus as Lord goes hand in hand with our believing in him in our hearts (Rom 10.9). Our “confession” of Christ cannot be separated from and pitted against “acts of obedience.” Confessions can be a means of proclaiming the gospel and thus a vital part of fulfilling our commission. Not only is Bonhoeffer’s downplay of confessions and abstract principles reactionary and unhelpful in this regard, but his commentary proves to be the result of eisegesis rather than exegesis. Wanting to remedy cheap grace with his doctrine of situational precondition (ironically, itself an abstract doctrine), he sees things in the gospels which are far from the original intention of the authors who wrote them.
The “Literal” Hermeneutic
Not only is he hermeneutically creative in his approach to the text, but in addition to this, Bonhoeffer’s “literal” hermeneutic is exceedingly crass. He believes that Jesus’ command to the rich young ruler to sell all his goods must be applied to all Christians. He calls this the “literal interpretation” (84). Any other interpretation does violence to the scriptures “by interpreting them in terms of an abstract principle” (84). His best textual support is to suggest that this is an implication of the disciples question, “Who then can be saved?” (85).
The author’s crass approach to interpretation especially sticks out in his comment on Luke 10.29. He concludes that asking questions is wrong (77-78). Why? Because that is what the lawyer did who was trying to justify himself. He interprets Jesus’ parable as Jesus’ way of saying “You must not ask questions—get on with the job!” (78). He gives further unqualified application to the reader: “Perhaps you still think you ought to think out beforehand and know what you ought to do. To that there is only one answer. You can only know and think about it by actually doing it. You can only learn what obedience is by obeying. It is no use asking questions” (78). This position hardly seems to be the point of the parable.
This crass approach is common to all the author’s interpretations.
He thinks Christ condemns anger without qualification: all anger is wrong (127). What about Jesus’ anger when he drove the people out of the temple? What about Ephesians 4.26?
He also takes “literally” the command of Jesus in Matthew 5.29-30 to tear out our eyes and cut off our hands if ever we find ourselves using them to lust (132).
He believes it is wrong for a Christian to participate in any governmental retribution because of Jesus’ commands to resist evil (143). What about Paul’s endorsement of the government’s God-given right to execute precisely this kind of retributive justice (Rom 13.1-7)? Bonhoeffer lands contrary to the New Testament when he argues “there is no inner discord between private and official capacity. In both we are disciples of Christ, or we are not Christians at all” (148).
Also, according to Bonhoeffer, we are not to rejoice in any of God’s “good gifts” to us if they are not spiritual “because the world and its goods make a bid for our hearts” (176). In addition, he argues that anytime we use our possessions “as an insurance against the morrow we are dethroning God and presuming to rule the world ourselves” (178-79). What about the example of Paul who sold tents so that he might have money to live without being a burden to the Corinthians?
The author does not seem eager to test his conclusions by the analogy of faith.
In short, Bonhoeffer ultimately gives a serious indictment against all whose approach to the scriptures do not apply the call of Christ given to people in the New Testament in this literal way (225). If one does not see all Christ’s imperatives—regardless of context—as imperatives for every Christian, then Bonhoeffer beleives such a person actually denies that Christ is still alive (225). For him, there is no such thing as discerning which commandments were contextually specific. As far as the author is concerned, all such hermeneutical principles are based on “a complete misunderstanding of the situation of the disciples” (227). However, through and through, Bonhoeffer’s approach lacks clear bridges from the text to his specific interpretations—from which come all his confident conclusions. His “literal” interpretations and creative insights help him to preach against cheap grace, but they do little to help the reader get a grasp on the actual intent of the biblical author. To summarize, one might coin his approach as contextually insensitive, systematically uninformed, and implausibly crass.
Legalistic Standards and Unhelpful Advice
The author is also often guilty of his own harsh criticisms. For example, he tells us that the “third would-be-disciple” in Luke 9.57-62 thought that “certain conditions” must be fulfilled in order to be a disciple—as when people say “first you must do this and then you must do that” (61). He criticizes this as a way of reducing “discipleship to the level of the human understanding” (61). Ironically, he insists on the very next page that “if we would follow Jesus we must take certain definite steps”! (62). He then proceeds to give us the first step and tells us how we might make discipleship possible! In another place he criticizes anyone who would place a chronological gap between faith and obedience: “If, however, we make a chronological distinction between faith and obedience, and make obedience subsequent to faith, we are divorcing the one from the other,” yet he does precisely this with his doctrine of the situational precondition (64)! The only difference is that he reverses the chronological order, making obedience a chronological prerequisite to learning faith (63,75).
These unqualified contradictions abound throughout the book.
Men are called to “decide” to follow Christ “willy-nilly,” “and that decision can only be made by themselves” (94). Yet, somehow this “willy-nilly” choice which they must make only “by themselves” is at the same time “no arbitrary choice” nor is it a “choice of their own” (94-95). Huh?
He is not concerned with “ideals, duties or values,” but he is, on the other hand, concerned with the “virtue of discipleship” and the “quality” of being “extraordinary,” (96, 153, 159, 190).
Obedience to God and obedience to the OT law were never meant to be “divorced from one another,” yet following God in the person of Christ might demand the neglect of obedience to the law since Christ emerges as an opponent of the law (61, cf. 60, 121-22, 125).
Bonhoeffer expresses his pre-meditated plan of action for true discipleship—which is nothing more than that all his actions be “un-premeditated” (159-60)! All our prayers are to be unpremeditated and entirely spontaneous, yet he helps us pre-mediate the very words which we are to pray, namely the exact words of the Lord’s Prayer (163, 165)!
It would be “pseudo-theology,” not to take Jesus’ imperative for the rich young ruler as “literally” applying to all who wish to follow Christ, but at the same time “Jesus does not forbid the possession of property in itself” (84, 174). Can someone say Hermeneutical schizophrenia?
On the contrary, it would seem that where a certain “road” or lifestyle (such as an “extraordinary” one) overlaps with following Christ (since he is the one who commanded such roads and lifestyles) it is not only helpful to focus on such particulars, but it indeed becomes necessary. Bonhoeffer seems unaware at this point that his whole book has just this aim: to help us focus on what discipleship really is, and what specific things it might entail! Even his doctrine of the situational precondition for faith is an in-depth analysis of the initial stage or “road” of discipleship. His advice to follow the road but never look at it, or to be “extraordinary” but never focusing on the “extraordinary” is unhelpful because it is impractical and impossible. If we are not to focus on the “extraordinary” why does he set apart so much of his book to get us thinking about it? I could imagine how Bonhoeffer would feel if he were to find me pitting his focus on “discipleship” itself as only a distraction from focus on Jesus and his will alone.
In a similar fallacy, Bonhoeffer teaches what I would call the doctrine of oblivious discipleship. What Christ means by our making sure we do not display our righteousness “before men, to be seen of them” is that we are to hide our good works from ourselves (158). In fact, this includes our being unaware of our good deeds: “We must be unaware of our own righteousness” (158). All of our good deeds must be “entirely spontaneous and unpremeditated” (159, emphasis mine). We are to be “unreflective” in all our actions (160). For Bonhoeffer, just the concept of faith “excludes all reflection and premeditation” (163, emphasis mine). Bonhoeffer seems unaware that his doctrine of oblivious discipleship is self-contradictory, for in the very act of teaching us that all our works must be done in this specifically defined way (in a state of oblivion) he has caused us to pre-meditate a grand plan for discipleship! It seems obvious that he has spent an unusual amount of energy thinking, reflecting, and pre-meditating about this himself, as he gives much of his book to this theme of oblivious discipleship.
The author remarks that people are not converted through “unquenchable longing for a new life of freedom,” but rather by that which was affected by the cross and is affected by Christ (231). However, it is my conviction that part of repentance (which is necessary for conversion) is a longing for Christ and a longing to be delivered from bondage to our sin. Our conversion is part of that which was affected by the cross and is affected by Christ—and this would include our faith and repentance. This is an important truth which his false dichotomy undermines.
Conclusion
In conclusion, though I sympathize with his desire to present a radical paradigm for the Christian life, I found Bonhoeffer’s five pronged attack on cheap grace to be unhelpful. There were two reminders in Bonhoeffer’s book which stand out to me as worth reading. The first was a reminder that suffering is part of the Christian life—even of the essence of Christianity (90-92). The other was his description of conversion as a relinquishing of all our assumed rights (95-96, 141-42). Apart from these two reminders and several miscellaneous one-liners, Bonhoeffer’s book was frustrating. Most of his book is full of self-contradiction, hermeneutical hyper-crassism, legalistic standards and unhelpful exhortation. In general, though his book presents a challenging and radical paradigm for the Christian life, it was surprisingly disappointing.
T h e o • p h i l o g u e 
