Who shall watch the watchmen?

What is with the desire for a hierarchy? Why does one need to pull out of scripture an ordering of ministries which places people in categories of chrisms according to the divine whim?
Here I’m referring to T.F. Torrance’s work Royal Priesthood: A Theology of Ordained Ministry, but he is far from alone. Torrance stands with the Catholic Church via Lumen Gentium (although I think Torrance would shiver at such a prospect – his is not Catholic, and had very few kind word to share about Catholicism in his footnotes). Here is the breakdown of what Torrance is arguing.
It all starts with Eucharist. There, in the liturgical moment, the reality of the church as the body of Christ already, and the body of Christ yet to be comes into its fullness. There, in that liturgical moment, the people are taken into what will be the society of heaven where all the saints will gather. From the Eucharist comes the diversity of chrisms or spiritual gifts that make up the diversity of the body. Torrance pulls out two main chrisms – deacons and presbyters. The ministry of the deacons is to “prompt and shape the response of the congregation in life and worship. The ministry of the presbyter is to “minister Word and Sacrament.” (all from pg 102) So far nothing to drastic; different folks with different strokes all around the…. Body of Christ. Yet Torrance cannot keep still and has to add the ministry of the episcopacy, i.e. bishop, which is to oversee the presbyter (also from page 102). He makes the claim that in the fullness of time, in the glories of heaven the bishop will not be needed because all hierarchy will fall away, but in the here and now, the bishop is needed for continuity and unity. Ah Torrance, do you not trust the Holy Spirit as the overseer? And who shall oversee the overseers? Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who shall watch the watchmen? Perhaps we should choose one to oversee the others…. a kind of collogue among collogues, but one that guides the body of bishops (magisterium). Sounds strangely Catholic.
Overall, Torrance is offering a good work (I learned in grad school that nothing is to be described as “great,” because that means you have nothing to criticize ). His ecclesiology is wrapped with the Pauline “already / not yet” in a captivating and powerful way. His understanding of the power of liturgy through the actions of Christ is compelling. He does push for a relational mutuality, an “inner membering” of the church (100) creating the fertile ground for an egalitarian gathering. His emphasis on the Eucharistic is a bit of a stretch for this simple Baptist, but I think I can consider, not Christ in the bread and cup, but the people gathered at the final meal in the fullness of time, sitting with our Lord. Yet why the desire for a bishop? This is where I am lost as a Baptist. In response I would emphasize the power and the promise (to reference Cowell’s work… see a previous posting) of the Holy Spirit to guide the community, to oversee the community and to maintain the unity of the community. Otherwise, the hierarchy create communities within communities; a council of bishops who place themselves aside and apart and above the rest of the Church. So let go of the overseer, and take that leap into the disestablishment chaos of churches trying to be churches guided by the Word, Worship, and the Holy Spirit.

Would the Real Jesus Please Stand Up?

So we have two natures of Jesus – God and Man. This is a basic argument that has been battered that tossed and discussed quite a bit among the greats of theology. Some have claimed that Jesus was fully God, although perhaps a little less than the God, and other claim that he was fully man, although more than ordinary people. Tradition has done its part and insured that both lines of thinking were chased out of the church with burning torches and the like. Instead we have great metaphysical terms, Greek words and multi-syllable approaches to understanding the nature of Jesus.
P.T. Forsyth eschews such terms and concepts (specifically in The Person and Place of Jesus Christ). He is writing from a early 20th century context, wrestling with liberalism, orthodoxy and from time to time Catholicism. Forsyth argues that there are two natures to Christ, but one should not use the cumbersome metaphysical language of the early church fathers. Instead, one should look to the moral (his word) aspect of Christ and how it relates to us. According to Forsyth, there are basically two motions occurring – there is “the upward movement of man’s quest for God and the downward of God’s conquest of man” (335). In the upward movement from the point of humanity we have faith, and in the downward movement from the point of God we have grace. Forsyth describes these two movements as basic to creation. Both are moral acts; humanity – faith and God – grace. In Christ we have the union of the moral acts; in Christ we have, “the union of God and man… as the mutual involution of two personal movements raised to the whole scale of the human soul and the divine.”
Forsyth claims that such is possible because in Christ we have kenosis or a self-emptying and plerosis or a self-fulfillment.
Now I could go into further detail about Forsyth’s understanding of these terms, he approach to scripture, and understanding of “moral” doctrines. What I find fascinating is the idea that in Christ there is a constant pulling. There is a pulling to be with God, and to lead others to be with God. Christ understands our basic desire to have communion with God, because that basic desire is a part of him, and so shows us the way to fulfill that desire. Yet at the same time there is a desire to be with us. There is a desire to be in our presence, to care for us and to share grace with us. When Christ forgives the sins of the sick, he is offering the grace of God. He is incarnating God’s desire to be with us. So rather than thinking of two natures, or two persons, Forsyth offers one person with pulling desires. There is a desire to be with God, and a desire to be with us.
Here is my thought. Far be it from me to assume that we can be Jesus, but what if we follow such desires ourselves? What if we still follow our desire to claim faith in the grace of the Lord and grow closer to God, but at the same time yearn to share God’s grace with others? What if we see our mandate not only to believe but to bring others to believe? I think there may be scripture to back up such a crazy idea (Mt 28). I am not suggesting that we become Jesus, but perhaps we follow more closely his ministry and his life with such an approach.

Does Size Matter?

This past Wednesday (Ash Wednesday) I went to the local Methodist church – St. Luke United Methodist – for their Ash Wednesday service. There were not a lot of people attending, only slightly more than were in the choir. I could relate to the pastor’s feeling of disappointment in the size – I know what that is like. Just the night before we had a Shrove Tuesday pancake dinner and gospel service and I was a little disappointed with the turnout. I let wondering if people were really committed to the church and if it was worth having such programs if “no one” was going to attend. Maybe size does matter.
On Wednesday, I felt differently. Perhaps it was because I was not leading the service, but sitting in the congregation. Perhaps it had something to do with the solemn focus of Ash Wednesday, but I felt a connection with the Spirit in the service. I didn’t care how many people were around me, it didn’t matter. It did matter that I was in a gathered community, but numbers weren’t as important. Instead, it felt like a very meaningful, moving and intimate service that could not be replicated with the masses. So maybe size does not matter.
I think Wed’s lesson speaks for itself. I think it is very easy to fall into the counting game. I hope I can find the strength and conviction to worship God and lead others in worship regardless if there are 2 or 200 or 2,000. Perhaps size doesn’t matter.


Afterthought: all of this is based on the premise that the smaller the group the less it has to offer. Perhaps one should consider the inverse; the larger the group the less it has to offer.

Miracles

The other night I was meeting with some college students talking about miracles. We discussed the skeptic’s point of view, the believer’s point of view, and so on. After a while it seemed that miracles were not necessarily a tool of evangelism, it would not bring on to faith, but something for those who already believe. If someone doesn’t believe in God, than that individual will no doubt look for another reason for the miracle.
Here is the interesting thing that happened. We were discussing the early Pentecostal movement, and what seemed to be a great need of people to experience miracles. People in the lower to middle economic spheres needed help that they could not afford were looking for miracles. With this in mind, I asked, “what are miracles that you hope for?” The answers ranged from the unity of the church (pan-denominational), to reconciliation between family members, to world peace. I was taken aback by such answers, for they seemed to point to things that many of us desire, but feel as if they are beyond our control. They seemed to point to things that without God’s presence would be seen as beyond hope. So perhaps a miracle is something that reaches beyond our hope in ourselves to our hope in God. Perhaps our hope in miracles is what keeps us all engaged in the work and ministry of the gospel. I am not going to bring peace to the world, but God will, and so I work towards being a part of that miracle.
Perhaps, then, the miracle is not what we see, but what we hope to see and place in the hands of God.

Crossing the Line

A number of the scholars that I have been attracted to have been described as “Catholic-Baptists.” Look at some of my pervious postings and you will see what I mean. They are born and raised Baptists who hold to many of the time-tested convections of Baptist life, yet liturgically, theologically, and ecclesiology yearn for something more. It seems that they are yearning for a depth and a richness that many would perceive to be lacking in the greater Baptist movement. Hence the push for sacramentality in Baptist life. In many ways I agree with these scholars. I agree that our ecclesiology could use development and depth. I agree that we could be more honest with what is happening in our worship (i.e. the actions of the Holy Spirit), and should claim the sacramentality that is already occurring. I agree that we become to immersed in our own understanding of the Word rather than how God is speaking to us through the Word. I agree on many points with these “Catholic-Baptist” folks. Yet there are times when I feel they may go to far.
I am thinking in particular of John Colwell’s book Promise and Presence: An Exploration of Sacramental Theology. Colwell admits that he is crossing a line with his thoughts and suggestions. While for the most part I do not think he needs to be so hard on himself, there is one place where I would halt his progress – ordination (granted, this is the area that I am working on, so there may be a reason that I quibble with Colwell on this particular issue). Colwell speaks in favor for viewing ordination as a calling by God, a promise by God to work through the minister as an agent and instrument of God’s grace. It is, for Colwell, an ontological change that is indelible. Competence to preach and administer the Sacraments can only come from God. This is where I get uneasy. Colwell uses the imagery of the minister as a midwife birthing the growth of the church, and that is an image I like. Yet the idea of an ontological change which is indelible, the idea that competence comes from God leans to far towards the Catholics. My struggle is saying why. We claim that God gives us gifts, and perhaps the gifts to do ministry come from God: competence. We claim that we are all changed through our baptism (while Colwell makes this claim, he does not stress it as strongly as others do, especially in the Catholic circles). What I think concerns me is the idea that the minister is called to a ministry of Word and Sacrament. This is not something, at least to my knowledge, that is a part of the Baptist movement. It feels like a transplant from the reformed/ Presbyterian tradition. Perhaps that is the rub, the understanding of the purpose of ministry. This is something I will have to think about and study further.
Another reason why I may find myself hesitant from joining whole-heartedly this “Baptist-Catholic” movement is because of the method. So far, the majority of the folks that I have read have been offering a top-down theology. Granted, some have used the patristic, but that is top-down for most Baptists. I want to offer a bottom-up theology. I want to offer a theology that is based on theory, but also and what Baptist have been doing and are continuing to do, and how God’s presence can be found within such actions. I think the difference is from offering new or different theories and approaches to ecclesiology (as the Baptist-Catholics are doing), or offering a nuanced articulation of what is already happening (as I hope to do). With such an approach, hopefully I will not cross the line to something that can no longer be recognized as Baptist.