Missional = Prodigal (BOOK REVIEW: PRODIGAL CHRISTIANITY: TEN SIGNPOSTS INTO THE MISSIONAL FRONTIER)



David E. Fitch and Geoff Holsclaw, Prodigal Christianity: Ten Signposts into the Missional Frontier (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2013), pp. 190.

Prodigal Christianity: Ten Signposts into the Missional Frontier is one of the latest contributions to the missional conversation, which is now well into its second decade. David Fitch and Geoff Holsclaw have written a brief and readable book that will benefit newcomers to this conversation as a primer, and that will also be helpful to longtime participants who are dissatisfied with two of the more influential expressions of missional church--the left-leaning emerging church and the right-leaning Neo-Reformed movement. The authors share their dissatisfaction with these movements in the book's introduction: "On the one hand, we are less than satisfied with what the 'new kind of Christianity' [the emerging church] has become.... On the other hand, the Neo-Reformed...appear to be defensive" (p. xxiii). For Fitch and Holsclaw, the first option seems like warmed-over mainline Protestantism, and the second option is too doctrinaire and attractional; in short, neither option is all that new. Prodigal Christianity presents another option, an alternative understanding of missional--a third way that is often (though perhaps not always) a middle way. Here missional means "prodigal."

The bulk of the book consists of ten chapters that each discuss a different signpost for churches that aspire to be missional. "Each signpost," write Fitch and Holsclaw, "gives us a vision for joining the mission of God through Christ in his Spirit" (p. xxviii). The authors name the signposts (in order) "Post-Christendom," "Missio Dei," "Incarnation," "Witness," "Scripture," "Gospel," "Church," "Prodigal Relationships," "Prodigal Justice," and "Prodigal Openness." The chapters typically open with an illustrative story from one of the writer's experience in ministry, follow with a discussion of the respective strengths and weaknesses of the Neo-Reformed approach and the emerging church approach to the chapter's subject, and conclude with an alternative approach that the writers believe is more prodigal--more open to "a journey that takes us to the frontiers of God's mission" (p. xxvi).

Signpost One focuses on the location of the North American church in the twenty-first century, a logical starting point. What characterizes our context? Failure to answer this question is likely to lead to churches that do not engage their neighborhoods and the people in them. Fitch and Holsclaw locate today's North American church in post-Christendom, a context defined largely by three characteristics: (1) it is "postattractional"--the "time when people gravitated toward the church building on Sunday" is gone; (2) it is "postpositional"--the church (and its leaders) no longer "have an inherent position of authority"; and (3) it is "postuniversal"--our culture is "no longer universal to everybody we meet" (pp. 7-8). Rather than seeing these culture shifts as obstacles, Fitch and Holsclaw (to their credit) see them as opportunities for mission that is more Jesuslike--after all, Jesus did not attract people to one location, chose humility over status, and practiced local rather than universal theology. This chapter is one of the book's most concise and strongest, and its ideas echo throughout the rest of the work.

 

The next three signposts--"Missio Dei," "Incarnation," and "Witness"--all point in the same direction. Fitch and Holsclaw move from the what of prodigal Christianity to the how of this missional way. The what is participation in the mission of God (missio Dei means mission or sending of God); the how is reconciling presence coupled with witness in deed and word. They write, "[W]e enter into these places [neighborhoods], inhabit them, and extend the presence of God in Jesus, who proclaims and makes present the kingdom of God" (p. 50); and later, "The term witness refers to an entire way of life that points to and embodies the reality of kingdom in the world" (p. 59).

 

Much of the first four chapters are a restatement of the early missional conversation (see, for example, Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America, Guder, Roxburgh, et al.). Fitch and Holsclaw note that the term missional has suffered from overuse, and they then push back against the use of missional language to repackage Puritanism or garden-variety evangelicalism or the church growth movement. They may receive push back themselves, however, from missional thinkers who argue that God is already at work in any given place before Christians arrive on the scene, and that our responsibility is to discern how and to partner in this work. Fitch and Holsclaw may be suggesting that Christians bring God with them when they write things like, "Jesus goes with us in our sending...extend[ing] his kingdom into the far country through us" (p. 63).

 

Signposts five through seven are "Scripture" (a chapter review of which I will post in the near future), "Gospel," and "Church." Having started with missiology, the authors now move to epistemology and ecclesiology. In chapter six, they present what they describe as "a bigger gospel"--bigger than either conservative Protestantism's version (which they think reduces the good news to forgiveness of individuals) or the emerging church's version (which they think reduces the good news to following the example of Jesus). I will leave questions about the accuracy of these claims to others; but insofar as any person or group holds to either of these versions, their gospel is undoubtedly reductionistic. In their place, Fitch and Holsclaw advocate a Christus Victor gospel: "[T]he kingdom of life and grace comes not just because Jesus is a good example of 'kingdom love,' but because although we were still sinners, Christ died for us.... All this comes through the Lord Jesus Christ, in whose death and suffering God has overcome sin and death" (p. 91).

 

The final three signposts are "Prodigal Relationships," "Prodigal Justice," and "Prodigal Openness"--broadly, the book moves from missiology to epistemology to ecclesiology to ethics. Of the concluding chapters, I found "Prodigal Relationships" the most interesting (perhaps because it is timely--it addresses sexuality); again, I will post a chapter review of this signpost in the near future. The chapter on justice begins with a story that illustrates a reality many leaders of local churches discover--different Christians define justice differently. Given this fact, Fitch and Holsclaw suggest an approach to justice that focuses less on government policies and more on local issues, engaging these immediate injustices relationally and with humility (here is an example of the ideas introduced in the first chapter continuing to inform).

 

Perhaps the greatest value of Prodigal Christianity is its recovery of many of the missional conversation's early emphases. Also, Fitch and Holsclaw deserve credit for engaging the strongest representatives of the emerging church (Brian McLaren) and the Neo-Reformed movement (Tim Keller). However, although they balance criticism with affirmation, it is not clear to me that they always read these theologians well, McLaren in particular; for example, although McLaren has clearly rejected the theory of penal substitution, I am not sure he has reduced the gospel to Jesus as moral influence. (Are Christus Victor and other ideas entirely absent from his work?) In any case, Prodigal Christianity continues a generative conversation.

Weekend Plans

Flying into Portland Friday--I'll be preaching at First Presbyterian in Vancouver Sunday morning.

Theology Pub, April 7 at 5

Let’s gather at City Pub on Broadway in Redwood City this Sunday. We’ll start our final conversation with Red Letter Revolution: What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said? (last four chapters, including the conclusion) at 5:00. We’ll also talk about possible dates and times for a party later in April.

Revisiting an Old Understanding of the Work of Jesus (BOOK REVIEW: DECEIVING THE DEVIL: ATONEMENT, ABUSE, AND RANSOM)

 

Darby Kathleen Ray, Deceiving the Devil: Atonement, Abuse, and Ransom (Cleveland, OH: The Pilgrim Press, 1998), pp.165.

"How is it that God in the life and death of Jesus acted to confront evil in a decisive and redemptive manner?" (p. vii). With this important question, Darby Kathleen Ray begins a feminist and liberationist assessment of the Christian doctrine of atonement. Ray eruditely argues that both the Anselmian and Abelardian atonement "models" (which she thinks are the most commonly held) are flawed. A third option is needed, one that Ray finds in the recovery of an ancient model that has been neglected in recent centuries.

Atonement theories have in common the belief that the world is broken, and that God has acted in Jesus to confront evil and set things right--including the world's relationship with God. Beyond this agreement, there is a "multiplicity of interpretations." Anselm and Abelard propose two such interpretations; yet despite their differences (Anselm focuses more on the death of Jesus and Abelard more on the life, for example), Ray observes that they have some things--some flaws--in common: "I am concerned with their commonalities because together they have bequeathed contemporary Christians with a highly problematic doctrine of atonement" (p. 2).

In Anselm's view, humankind has dishonored God. God has been treated unjustly, and Jesus is God's answer to this problem. God is subject to justice, and justice trumps mercy (both problematic notions); moreover, justice is narrowly defined as retribution--"a purely juridical notion of justice, one untempered by love or compassion" (p. 35). The death of one who has lived a life of perfect obedience satisfies God's honor. In the sixteenth century, John Calvin intensified Anselm's theory, offering a "penal, substitutionary interpretation of atonement" (p. 12). With Calvin, Anselm's focus on satisfying God's honor is replaced with a focus on placating God's wrath. Calvin does not fare well here, as his belief that God was (in his own words) "hostile to us" before the death of Christ suggests that Jesus had to change God from wrathful to loving (p. 11). In the twentieth century, Karl Barth returned to Anselm's original theory and developed "a thoroughly modern account of [it]" (p. 13).

Countering Anselm, Abelard developed an atonement theory in which mercy (restorative justice) trumps justice (retribution), and that places more emphasis on the life of Jesus and the love of God--of which the death of Jesus is the greatest example. God in Jesus does not simply give us a perfect example to follow, however; God's love embodied also influences us toward loving obedience: "This love is so potent that when human beings encounter it, we are actually inspired to emulate it, to love God as Jesus loved God, and to love one another as Jesus loves us" (p. 14). Contra Anselm, Abelard does not see sin as something that humans are powerless to do anything about; rather, God graciously awakens us by means of "the life and death of Christ, the perfect expression of divine love" (p. 15). Friedrich Schleiermacher and Walter Rauschenbusch have followed Abelard's thinking, focusing on God's love and our response to it.

Despite their differences, these two understandings are regarded with suspicion by feminist theologians because they share "a network of assumptions and claims about the nature of sin and evil and the identity and function of God and Jesus the Christ" (p. 19). For example, they both define sin "as disobedience and selfishness," which "has meant that resistance to or rebellion against authority is to be avoided at all costs" (p. 24). This understanding of sin encourages victims of abuse to remain quiet rather than to disobey their more powerful abusers. Additionally, both Anselmian thinkers and Abelardian thinkers have tended to view God as an all-powerful and all-knowing father. Ray writes, "[W]ithin the context of the patriarchal family, 'fatherhood' too often connotes control, domination, the seat of power and authority, the sole arbiter of justice, and the dispenser of punishment; and God the Father is then understood to embody and legitimate these characteristics" (p. 41). Ray quotes abuse survivors to show that this father-God connection can lead to confusion and fear that prevent victims from acting to help themselves. Finally, "[f]or both the Anselmian and the Abelardian traditions, the death of Jesus either exclusively [Anselm] or most completely [Abelard] effects atonement." Feminist theologians reject this "necrophilic" obsession with death because it "runs the risk of exalting death, of spiritualizing and romanticizing it, which can undermine individual and communal outrage at the countless deaths caused by neglect, violence, greed, and ignorance" (p. 56). It may lead abuse victims to deem it Christlike to continue in their suffering--even unto death.

For these reasons, feminist thinkers tend to reject both Anselmian and Abelardian explanations of atonement--many of them reject the idea of atonement altogether. Ray, however, rejects this rejection. Believing reconciliation to be a non-negotiable part of Christianity, she seeks help for reworking the doctrine of atonement in liberation theology.

As Ray recounts, liberation theology was born as a response to the colonization of Latin America by Europeans. "Within only 150 years after the conquest began," writes Ray, "the 70 to 90 million indigenous inhabitants of Latin America were reduced to a mere 3.5 million" (p. 76). The violence of the conquistadors was fueled in part by an understanding of atonement that combined Christus Victor thinking (with its emphasis on the resurrected Jesus) and Anselmian thinking (with its emphasis on the crucified Jesus): "On the one hand, Christ is the Conquering One.... On the other hand, Christ is the conquered One." The conquistadors identified themselves with the "resurrected Lord--conqueror of fear, evil spirits, sin, and death"; the persons conquered identified themselves with "the Conquered Christ, the One who was humiliated and vanquished by the powerful of his day and who resignedly accepted his fate" (pp. 78-79). As Ray reads them, liberation theologians have responded to this deadly coupling by broadening the scope of salvation, defining it as liberation from all that enslaves on both a personal and societal level, and by emphasizing the liberating and reconciling life of Jesus as much as (or more than) his death and resurrection.

Informed by liberation theology, Ray suggests a different understanding of the saving work of Jesus--without claiming to have "the one interpretation that can account for all contingencies, respond to all concerns, and please all people and beings" (p. 116). Ray attempts a "contemporary resuscitation" of what she calls "the patristic model" (because it was commonly held by early Christian thinkers) (p. 119). According to this version of Christus Victor thinking, Jesus (who is more liberator than conqueror) ransoms us from the devil (who represents all evil) by defeating him through deception. The devil is outwitted by God in Jesus. God incarnate tricks the power-hungry devil into overstepping his bounds; when the devil kills Jesus, evil overreaches and is overcome. Although it may be objected that God cannot deceive because deception seems immoral, tricksters are sometimes affirmed in the Bible (see Jacob's story in Genesis); and the reason God in Jesus uses cunning is to avoid using "the tools of evil"--"God is understood to struggle against evil, but not with the tools of evil itself--not with coercive power, not with unjust force--but unconventionally, indirectly, immanently, incarnationally, using 'weakness' to confront and confound 'dominance'" (p. 138). Ray summarizes, "[I]n the person of Jesus, God has acted not only to reveal the true nature of evil but also to decenter and delegitimate its authority by luring it into exposing its own moral bankruptcy and thus defeating itself, hence opening up the possibility for human beings to escape enslavement to evil" (p. 123). The defeat of the devil (evil) opens the way for liberation from that which enslaves (sin, "both individual and social" [p. 131]).

Ray does not, however, think that evil has been "decisively" defeated; rather, it has been "decisively confronted [italics mine] and redemption from it made possible" (p. 142). In other words, in his life-and-death battle with evil, Jesus has shown us how to resist evil, how to work for liberation (rather than merely suffering evil). Ultimately, Ray's alternative atonement model is a combination of Christus Victor and Abelardian thinking, as can be heard in her concluding thoughts:

To be liberated from evil in a world that remains so clearly in its grasp means refusing to let evil define our options and existence. It means struggling with passion, creativity, cunning, and tenacity, but without violence, without cruelty or hatred, without callous indifference. As impossible as that way may seem, it is possible--Jesus opened that way, and it remains a possibility for all who follow him. (pp. 144-145)

It seems to me that Ray's instinct is right--combining the Christus Victor and Abelardian models (both of which have their roots in the early church--see her note on page 147 tracing Abelard's thought to Athanasius) has great potential. Her hybrid model would be more hopeful, however, if it did not neglect one of the original emphases of Christus Victor thought--namely, the resurrection. Ray mentions the resurrection of Jesus only a handful of times (its neglect begins in the book's opening question quoted above), and just twice in her closing discussion of Christus Victor. This fact is curious because Christus Victor proponents typically emphasize the resurrection. Without the resurrection, there is little if any reason to think that the way of Jesus overcomes evil--after all, absent the resurrection, Jesus' way led only to terrible suffering and death, an apparent defeat.

As a defeat of death, the resurrection is God's way of vindicating Jesus' way--of showing that Jesus' struggle with evil in life and in death (and the means he employed in this struggle) met with God's approval. Ray may be hesitant to offer a robust affirmation of the resurrection of Jesus due to the misuse of this doctrine by the conquistadors and others; but a focus on the life of Jesus--his teaching and example--is enough to refute the notion that the resurrected Jesus wants his followers to be violent conquerors. The resurrected Jesus is the same Jesus who taught and practiced nonviolent resistance--the same Jesus who chose to die rather than kill.

Theology Pub, March 24 at 5

The forecast for Redwood City on Sunday is sunshine and 72 degrees–so we’ll try having Theology Pub outside at Milagros. We’ll start at 5:00 and wrap up our conversation with Red Letter Revolution: What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said? by 6:30. We’ll be focusing on chapters 20 through 23 (provocative stuff once again).

Hope to see you Sunday evening…and I’ll try to keep my voice down this time (inside joke for those who participated last time).

Theology Pub, March 10 at 5

This Sunday evening at 5:00 we’ll gather to share a meal and conversation at The Patty Shack in downtown Redwood City. We’ll be discussing chapters 16-19 of the book Red Letter Revolution: What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said? No worries if you haven’t done all the reading–I’ll bring an outline of the chapters to facilitate our conversation.

All are welcome!

How Not to Read the Parables (BOOK REVIEW: KINGDOM, GRACE, JUDGMENT: PARADOX, OUTRAGE, AND VINDICATION IN THE PARABLES OF JESUS)

Robert Farrar Capon, Kingdom, Grace, Judgment: Paradox, Outrage, and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2002), pp. 522.

Robert Farrar Capon's Kingdom, Grace, Judgment: Paradox, Outrage, and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus collects three previously published books in one volume. Capon identifies three major themes in the parables of Jesus--kingdom (which Jesus teaches prior to the miraculous feeding of five thousand), grace (which Jesus teaches between this miracle and his entry into Jerusalem), and judgment (which Jesus teaches after entering Jerusalem and before dying) (p. 20). The book's three parts (formerly books themselves) each focus on one of these kinds of parables. Capon employs readable prose, but what the back cover calls "authorial flair" will be described less kindly by some readers--clichés and colloquialisms abound here, to the point of distraction.

Capon's most compelling insight comes early--Jesus prefers "left-handed power" (a phrase borrowed from Martin Luther) to the more common right-handed power. Right-handed power is coercive; left-handed power is non-coercive. "Left-handed power...is precisely paradoxical power: power that looks for all the world like weakness" (p. 19). In one of his best pieces of interpretive work, Capon reads the Parable of the Weeds (Matthew 13:24-30) in a way that argues convincingly for left-handed power (pp. 83-93).

Many of Capon's readings of other parables are less compelling, however; and one is arguably even ugly. He repeatedly makes two questionable interpretive moves. First, he reads Martin Luther's interpretation of Paul into Jesus' parables; the sad irony of this move is that it makes a first-century Jewish peasant (Jesus) sound like a sixteenth-century anti-Semitic Christian who supported violence against peasants (Luther). Second, Capon tends to allegorize the parables, including stories for which Jesus offers no allegorical interpretation; for example, the fatted calf in the Parable of the Prodigal Son is "the Christ-figure in this parable" (p. 298).

A look at two of Capon's discussions--first of the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) and then of the Parable of the Unjust Judge (Luke 18:1-8)--will show why the two moves in question are problematic. Capon thinks that the Parable of the Good Samaritan has been misnamed--that the parable is more about the dying man, who is--in allegorical fashion--seen as a Christ-figure (despite the fact that he doesn't die). The reason Capon wishes to downplay the importance of the Samaritan is that his soteriology (after Martin Luther) makes him suspicious of even a whiff of works-righteousness: "Calling it the Good Samaritan inevitably sets up hearers to take it as a story whose hero offers them a good example for imitation.... But the common, good-works interpretation of the imitation to which Jesus invites us all too easily gives the Gospel a fast shuffle" (pp. 212-213). It may be Capon, however, who has given "the Gospel a fast shuffle"; he seems to have reduced the good news of and about Jesus to the Protestant principle--"justification by faith alone." In Capon's hands, parables that at face value are ethical instruction rather than soteriological instruction become examples of Martin Luther's soteriology--namely, that we are saved by grace through faith alone (Luther's addition to Paul), and not by works. This formula devalues works (faithfulness) to the point that Luther and Capon regard them with suspicion; it is hardly surprising to find not a single reference to the book of James in Capon's work--Luther, after all, dismissed it as a work of straw! Capon writes, "Salvation is not some felicitous state to which we can lift ourselves by our own bootstraps" (p. 213). Jesus and Paul would no doubt agree that we do not save ourselves; but it's just as clear that they both taught ethics. The Parable of the Good Samaritan presents a Samaritan--a despised outsider--as an unlikely hero and example to imitate; like Jesus, he loves the other and acts as a healer. The story simply is not about salvation (at least, not in the narrow sense of a personal and future deliverance); Jesus is concerned about this-worldly matters, too.

(A parenthetical paragraph to show the deficiency--and even danger--of Capon's reading: Capon, in the middle of his discussion of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, writes, "The extermination of six million Jews, for example, was done precisely in the name of a perverse vision of goodness--of a totally Aryan society that would bring in the millennium just as soon as the non-Aryans were weeded out" [p. 214]. This comment is curious. After all, many of the Germans who did this exterminating were baptized Lutherans--people who had been raised on a theology that idolized the Protestant principle and minimized the importance of ethics. Had they been taught to love the other [the plain meaning of the Parable of the Good Samaritan], Hitler might not have had the manpower to do what he did.)

Capon's interpretation of the Parable of the Unjust Judge is even uglier. Allegorizing freely, Capon identifies the judge in this story as "a perfect stand-in for God" (p. 331)--despite the fact that the text says the judge "neither feared God nor had respect for people" (Luke 18:2). This move requires that the widow be seen as something less than a hero, because she and the God-figure judge are in an adversarial relationship. The widow is marginalized and vulnerable, Capon admits, but she should be willing to accept her situation ("her death") instead of trying "to make a buck out of her loss." The judge "arrives at his judgment...not on the merits of the [widow's] case but simply on the basis of his own convenience." The story shows that "God is willing to be perceived as a bad God"--even judging for people who have weak cases (which is everyone) (pp. 331-333). Here again Capon manages to read "justification by faith alone" into a parable: God shows mercy to people regardless of whether their causes are just.

The problem with this eisegesis is that it fails to affirm what Jesus affirms--namely, the persistence of a marginalized and vulnerable person seeking justice. The parable is better interpreted as an a fortiori (lesser to greater) argument--Jesus is saying, "If an unjust judge will show mercy to a persistent widow, then how much more will a just God hear our cries?" Capon cannot accept this reading of the parable because it suggests that God rewards persistence, and this suggestion does not fit neatly with the Protestant principle.

Red Letter Study Guides

I've written up seven study guides for use with the book Red Letter Revolution: What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said? I have several small groups using this book as a conversation starter. My questions can be found here.

Coexist? (BOOK REVIEW: WHY DID JESUS, MOSES, THE BUDDHA, AND MOHAMMED CROSS THE ROAD?)

Part IV

Pluralism tempts Christians to succumb either to hostile fear or to weak resignation. In a multi-faith world, how can followers of Jesus have a Christian identity that is both strong and kind? McLaren concludes his answer to this question with a section titled, "The Missional Challenge."

This fourth and final part has an overriding theme: Christians and non-Christians should find common ground in a concern for the common good, working for this good side by side. McLaren is "increasingly convinced" that the common good is a concept synonymous to "Jesus' term kingdom of God" (p. 258). Thus, when non-Christians partner with Christians in pursuit of the common good, they participate in the liberating way of Jesus--they participate in the mission of God. This partnership often begins with "subversive or transgressive friendship--friendship that crosses boundaries of otherness and dares to offer and receive hospitality" (p. 228). Without compromising our unique religious identities, we may "[j]oin the conspiracy of plotting for the common good together" (p. 231).

Does evangelism have any place in this vision? It does--if its goal is mutual conversion to greater Christ-likeness rather than the conversion of one person to another person's religion (although such a conversion may happen). Jesus, after all, was a Jew who started a new community, not a new religion. In the book's closing chapter, McLaren presents Gandhi as an example of someone who loved Jesus but never converted to Christianity.

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? may be the best of McLaren's many books. It is an engaging work of practical theology that mixes profound insights and personal stories--and even some humor (see especially chapter 17). May it help Christians and non-Christians sojourn together as co-learners in an increasingly diverse world.

Coexist? (BOOK REVIEW: WHY DID JESUS, MOSES, THE BUDDHA, AND MOHAMMED CROSS THE ROAD?)

Part III

Having "reformulated" Christian doctrines to create an irenic orthodoxy, McLaren moves to the subject of liturgy in the third part of his book, "The Liturgical Challenge." He begins by championing the liturgical year--that is, he wants churches to follow the Christian calendar rather than the secular calendar or some mix of the two. Observing Christmas and Easter are not enough to form a Christian identity; the liturgical year invites a journey from Advent to Christmas to Lent to Holy Week to Easter to Pentecost to Kingdomtide. "Imagine the positive impact on Christian identity if we conceived of the church year in fresh ways" (p. 170).

A chapter on baptism is followed by three chapters that are among the most interesting and important in the book, the first two having to do with biblical interpretation. Why does McLaren address this subject in a section on liturgy? He explains:

Hermeneutics is one of the central liturgical practices of the Christian church. Nearly all liturgies include a sermon in which passages of the Bible are read and interpreted. How can we turn this important liturgical practice toward the formation of strong-benevolent Christian identity? (p. 199)

McLaren knows that some Christians find support for hostile attitudes and actions toward others in violent passages of Scripture. He skewers this use of the Bible in two ways. First, he points out that later passages sometimes counter earlier passages; for example, stories in the Gospels often cancel or correct the permissive attitude toward violence found in some Old Testament texts. "The Bible itself," observes McLaren, "has built-in reconciling stories to counteract and disarm the hostile ones" (p. 194). Second, McLaren (borrowing heavily from the work of Derek Flood) shows that Paul consistently refrains from quoting violent lines when he employs Old Testament passages. McLaren summarizes, "The language of divine mercy and promise is retained. The language of divine violence and vengeance is gone" (p. 200).

The third interesting and important chapter in this section discusses the eucharist. After making clear his appreciation for this sacrament, McLaren describes two "line[s] of meaning" for understanding this liturgical practice. The first sees the eucharist "as a celebration of hospitality, a table of fellowship and welcome, a means of amazing grace...a place of meeting, of reconciliation, of filial affection, of companionship...." The second sees this sacrament as "a sacrificial altar rather than a table--a place where God's hostility toward sinners is pacified by body-and-blood sacrifice" (p. 209). McLaren prefers the metaphor of a table to that of an altar.

McLaren connects the second understanding of the eucharist to the penal substitutionary atonement theory, which fuels the idea that in the eucharist our thanksgiving is to Jesus for saving us from an angry deity who demanded mollification. The table understanding invites us to give thanks to God in Christ for reconciling us both to God and to one another:

[I]n a table-centered eucharistic understanding, atoning or appeasing sacrifices are simply unnecessary. Nothing need be done to appease a hostile God, because through Christ, God has self-revealed as inherently gracious and kind, seeking reconciliation; not hostile and vengeful, needing appeasement. (p. 212)

The theory of penal substitution is impugned repeatedly here, often in footnotes. (McLaren uses substantive--and substantial--footnotes throughout the book, and some of his most insightful writing is found in them.) In one such note, this impugning is simply a lengthy series of questions that bring to light the assumptions of this idea. McLaren's chief concern seems to be this: If we believe that God is "inherently hostile to frail and fallible human beings" (p. 211), then we are likely to be the same.

to be continued