Anne Rice and Harvey Cox and the Future of Christianity

Author Anne Rice has announced that she is leaving Christianity ten years after a much-ballyhooed conversion. According to comments reported by CNN, she found herself unable to be “anti-gay, anti-feminist, anti-science and anti-democrat.” She continues, “It is simply impossible for me to ‘belong’ to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group.” I have a good deal of sympathy for Rice. Hardly a day goes by without my being humiliated by the words or actions of one of my erstwhile co-religionists. Consider the brutally hateful rhetoric of Fred Phelps and his minions of “God Hates Fags” (in)fame or the recently announced plan by an individual claiming to follow Jesus to burn the Koran. Week after week the word Christian is covered with slime by pedophile priests, hypocritical preachers, and the church’s own bruising internal battles. Epithets are hurled from the right and the left in battles over human sexuality, abortion, and, in local churches, how one worships God. Although some Christians loudly denounce the “liberal media” or “godless atheists” for our bad press, most of our wounds are self-inflicted.


In his recent book The Future of Faith theologian Harvey Cox argues that the church made a disastrously wrong turn within the first four centuries of its existence. The “age of faith”, characterized by creativity, energy, compassion, and expansion gave way to the “age of belief”. During the age of faith, “sharing in the living Spirit of Christ united Christians with each others and ‘faith’ meant hope and assurance in the dawning of a new era of freedom, healing, and compassion that Jesus had demonstrated. To be a Christian meant to live in his Spirit, embrace his hope, and to follow him in the work that he had begun.” (Cox pg. 5) It was a chaotic, theologically fecund, and breathtakingly diverse period. But it was not to last.


Cox argues that the need for the catechesis of new believers ultimately replaced “faith in Jesus with tenets about him.” (Cox pg. 5) This process was greatly enhanced when Christian leaders were seduced by the power and privilege of imperial patronage after the “conversion” of Constantine. Like all political elites the bishops wanted uniformity and stability. Above all they wanted to hang onto their own power. According to Cox the creeds and confessions of the church grew out of this desire for peace and stability. Margins were set. Heresy was defined. “From an energetic movement of faith,” Cox argues, “[Christianity] coagulated into a phalanx of required beliefs thereby laying the foundation for every succeeding Christian fundamentalist for centuries to come.” (Cox pg. 6)


In spite of much brutality and stupidity the “Age of Belief” was not totally bleak. Great works of beauty, wisdom, and compassion were produced. Saints that recalled the original spirit of Jesus operated at the margins of the church until they were co-opted by the center. Nevertheless, Cox remains hopeful that Christianity can recapture its founding ethos. He suggests we are entering a new “Age of the Spirit”. He sees hope for Christianity in the global south where “the Spirit, muted and muffled for centuries, is breaking its silence and staging a delayed ‘return of the repressed.’” (Cox 9, 10). The Spirit’s work will not be in a straight line: it blows where it will. It will be once again be messy, chaotic and uncontrollable. It will make ecclesiastical bureaucrats nervous and perhaps bring down the corrupt structures of the organized church. But out of the chaos the Spirit of Christ will brood over a new creation.


Some years ago my friend Dr. G. Timothy Johnson suggested to me that he no longer felt comfortable being labeled a “Christian”. Rather he wanted to be known as a “follower of Jesus.” I think Tim is onto something and, evidently, so does Anne Rice. “My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic, atheist, lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me,” she writes. “But following Christ does not mean following his followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been or might become.”


Evangelicalism was given birth by Pietism. The Pietists argued that following Jesus was more important the believing all the right things about him. To follow Jesus was to live the life of a disciple, preaching good news, healing the sick, caring for the poor—adhering to what Scot McKnight calls the Jesus Creed: loving God and neighbor. Evangelicals have always emphasized experience over creed and confession. Most evangelical churches, including my own Evangelical Covenant Church, were non-confessional. They respected the ancient creeds but did not canonize them. The modern attempt by some to turn Evangelicals into, say, confessional Calvinists violates not only the spirit of Evangelicalism but risks robbing it of its spirit and life. When Evangelicals harden their theology and practice they are not consolidating their future, but eroding the very life and health of the movement.


At our best we welcome Anne Rice and everyone like her. She does not have to be “anti-gay, anti-feminist, anti-science, and anti-democrat” to be a follower of Jesus! This is not to say every Jesus follower will agree with her—this seldom happens in Evangelicalism or anywhere else. But everyone should love her, include her, and engage her—and everyone like her. I am glad Anne Rice is still a follower of Jesus. But we need her voice within the Christian community reminding us of the irresponsibly loving presence of Jesus within the derelict structures of institutional Christianity. Perhaps even now the Spirit of God is preparing a fresh wind to sweep through the corruptions and stupidities the characterize Christianity. I trust that Evangelicals will put up their sails to catch this wind. I can’t say, however, I am optimistic.


John E. Phelan, Jr.

Christian Jerks

Last week a popular blogger raised a pressing question: why are Christians such jerks online? He cited the sheer offensive nastiness of some and the whiney defensiveness of others. If you have visited the blogosphere on a regular basis you know what he is talking about. Some avowed followers of the Prince of Peace seem to relish violent, abusive attacks on their theological, political, and social opponents. Of course, Christian jerks are found everywhere: from the calculated anti-gay ugliness of Kansas’ Fred Phelps, to the anti-Obama screeds of fundamentalist preachers, to the borderline anti-Semitic rants against Israel by “social justice” Christians. Cringing at such misrepresentations of our faith, many of us resonated with the “Confessional Booth” story in Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz. Like those Reed College students we would like to tell non-Christians we are sorry for the misbehavior of the church and many individual Christians.


All of this raises another question: Why aren’t we better? If we have been transformed by the Spirit of God and are to radiate the love of Christ, why are we so often characterized by foaming-at-the-mouth nastiness? It is too simple to say “Well those folks are not true Christians.” We are not the first generation to suffer from “Christian jerks.” We must acknowledge centuries of cruelty and violence, verbal and otherwise, done in the name of Christ. Recently Pope Benedict admitted, referring to the sexual abuse scandal, that the real “persecution” of the Catholic Church was from within. Or, as Pogo would put it, we have met the enemy and he is us.


Some years ago a North Park Theological Seminary student wrote a paper arguing for a “discipline of silence.” He argued that Christian mistreatment of Jews over the centuries was so horrendous and inexcusable that Christians had lost the right to speak to them of Christ. He suggested that Christians put a moratorium on evangelizing Jews until they had earned the right to speak through love, generosity of spirit and sheer humanity. Last week members of the Marin Foundation, a Christian organization ministering to the gay community, followed the example of those Reed College Christians. They donned t-shirts that read “I’m Sorry”. On behalf of the Christian community they expressed sorrow and shame at the shabby way the gay community has been treated by Christians, particularly Evangelical Christians.


Neither my student nor the Marin foundation would suggest we no longer bear witness to Christ. But perhaps both would suggest that we once more earn the right to speak of Jesus by living like him for a change. A Christian ideology (I chose the term advisedly) without a Christian identity is a potentially deadly thing. We are not called simply to believe things about Jesus, but to follow him.


John E. Phelan, Jr.

Conversations between Jews and Evangelicals

We met at the venerable Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism on Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, where, over fifty years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King met with Jewish leaders to develop strategies for the civil rights movement. About 40 of us were crammed into a small basement auditorium around long, thin tables—half of us Evangelical leaders from various churches, organizations and institutions and half of us Jewish leaders from various synagogues, organizations and institutions. The Jewish leaders were Orthodox, Conservative, Reformed and Reconstructionist. The Evangelicals also came from across the spectrum—Baptist, Charismatic, Anglican, and, of course, Evangelical Covenant, among others. The Jewish community has been meeting for years with leaders from mainline and Roman Catholic Churches, but this was only the second meeting of the type with Evangelicals. Over two days we considered how we might have civil but frank conversations. We explored the response of the Christian church to the foundation of the state of Israel. We explored our common commitment to social justice and our common struggle to come to terms with Israel’s conflict with the Palestinians.


Some of us had been in conversations with Jews for a number of years. I have met regularly with a Modern Orthodox Rabbi to study scripture and discuss the challenges faced by the Jewish community in the United States and Israel. For many this was a new conversation—and a fascinating one. What did we learn?


1. For the vast majority of Jews the distinction is not Zionist or Anti-Zionist, but Hawkish or Dovish. Even the most liberal Jews support Israel and value it as a place for the Jews to preserve their culture, faith and community. One leader suggested Zionism was a “cardinal tenet” of Judaism. All Jews long for peace and justice for the Jews in Israel. But they differ on how these goals might be accomplished. One Orthodox leader said that although Israel would not be fully realized until Messiah came, “It is better to wait for Messiah in Tel Aviv than Warsaw.”


2. Although much of the world looks at Israel as powerful and dominant, neither American Jews nor the Jews in Israel feel powerful. They feel fragile and threatened. Even the most liberal are discouraged. One person said, “We got out of Gaza and got rockets in return.” They feel like the rest of the world wants them to lie supine in the face of violence and aggression. They were attacked for setting up buffer zones and so they backed away from them. They were vilified for the incursion into the Gaza to halt the rocket attacks. So they set up blockades and check points, perhaps the least violent, if still distasteful, alternative to stop the rockets and other weapons from being brought to Hamas—and there were still howls of protest. What are their options to keep their homes from being shelled and their citizens from being blown up on buses and in cafes? Giving “land for peace” hasn’t really worked so far. Why would they trust their opponents to stop the rockets and suicide bombings if they eliminated the blockade and checkpoints and tore down the wall? There is little evidence to suggest the extremists among the Palestinians would restrain themselves. What would the world have them to do?


3. Nevertheless, every Jewish leader was distressed and frustrated over the suffering of the Palestinians, both Muslim and Christian. Many were unhappy with the heavy handedness of the Israeli government. At the same time they wondered where were their conversation partners? Who was willing in this difficult climate to really work with them to find peace? Many worried that the opportunity for a two-state solution was slipping away.


4. Most of them understood that Christians lived with an obligation to share their faith. But they refused to be in communication with any group that specifically targeted Jews. They were especially distressed by groups like Jews for Jesus, whom they thought were trying to redefine what a Jew was. One rabbi said, if a Jew becomes of Christian we are sad, but such things happen. But we do not like the deception of saying you can be a Jew and a Christian at the same time. Some Evangelical leaders found this difficult to grasp. I suggested that perhaps it was right that we let the Jewish community decide who was and was not a Jew.


5. The Jews have a rich history of social justice concerns, but some in the room felt that of late the word “justice” was being used as a club against them. Why, they wondered, was it peace and safety for Israel and peace and justice for the Palestinians? Didn’t the Israelis deserve justice as well? They were particularly concerned about the nearly universal hostility of the liberal mainline church to Israel. In some cases they thought the line was crossed from appropriate criticism to anti-Semitism. They had no trouble with criticisms of the actions of the government of Israel. They insisted that criticizing the government of Israel is a spectator sport among Jews in the United States and Israel. But for many Jews in this country it has become difficult to raise criticism when they sense the state is always, and often unfairly, under attack. They feel the positive things done by the state of Israel are chronically under reported and generally ignored.


It was a fascinating, provocative, and at times passionate conversation. I think we all had a sense of camaraderie and even common purpose. We all want Israel and the Palestinians to live in peace and safety and with justice. Many of the Evangelicals were involved in ministries to build bridges between the two groups. We also all wanted healthy and positive relationships between Jews and Evangelicals. We want to be able to call each other when there was a difficulty, question, or opportunity for collaboration. I think we also found common ground as believers in God who take our faith commitments very seriously. These conversations are important and will continue. I hope to be a part of them for years to come.

John E. Phelan, Jr.
North Park Theological Seminary

Israelis, Palestinians, and Rene Girard

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of presenting a paper for the “Theology and Peace Conference” held on the campus of North Park University. I was invited to give the paper by my friend Michael Hardin, seminary alumnus, member of the Theology and Peace board, and author of The Jesus Driven Life. Theology and Peace seeks to apply the insights of Rene Girard to the theology and life of the Christian Church. Throughout his long and prestigious academic career Girard has developed and promoted his theory of “mimetic rivalry” and “scapegoating”. He has argued that human beings learn what is desirable from other human beings. That is, we imitate the desires of others. Introduce a new toy into a group of happily playing toddlers. They may ignore the new toy until one of them expresses an interest in it. The once ignored toy is suddenly intensely interesting. Screeching and hair pulling is likely to follow.


Girard argues that primitive society suffered from the violence of mimetic rivalry. Limited resources and unlimited desires resulted in a war of all against all. Humans finally realized that perpetual violence was not conducive to survival and sought a means to check the violence and bloodshed. At some point in the murky past they seized on the notion of a scapegoat. If one person or group of persons could be blamed for the violence and punished or destroyed the violence would be diverted and dissipated. The “scapegoats” needn’t be guilty of any great crime. They could be people at the margins of society, odd men and women out. Or they could be randomly selected from the community. All that was necessary was that the society unified itself against them and literally or metaphorically sacrificed them. The sacrifice of the scapegoat would bring temporary unity and peace until the next “mimetic crisis” required additional sacrifices.


Girard develops his theory in a series of brilliant works including, most notably, The Scapegoat and I See Satan Fall Like Lightening. Converted to Roman Catholicism as an adult, Girard immediately saw the application of his theory to the death of Jesus. He argued that in effect Jesus is the scapegoat to end all scapegoats. He exposes the mechanism for what it is: a crude but effective means of bringing temporary peace by focusing the hatred and loathing of the majority on a despised minority. As a result of the death and resurrection of Jesus the veil of secrecy is lifted and the mechanism’s effectiveness begins to wane. It becomes clear that the victim of scapegoating is not guilty or at least not so guilty as to merit destruction. For human beings to find genuine peace scapegoating and its attendant sacrifices must be rejected and love of God and neighbor must be pursued.


This week the Middle East has been once again in the news. The Israelis bumbled into a public relations disaster when they boarded a ship bringing supplies to blockaded Gaza. The raid on the flotilla produced a howl of protest around the world. Israeli leaders responded as belligerently as their opponents in the Middle East, Europe and the United States. I was reminded of another conference I attended at North Park. This meeting focused on “Christian Zionism,” that is, Christians who support the state of Israel. I was asked to give a short talk at the end of the meetings summing up the conference. I cited the work of Girard and suggested that the crisis in Israel was not likely to be addressed until both sides stopped “scapegoating” the other. Israel has become the source of all evil in the Arab world and thus a source of unity between otherwise fractious states. The Palestinians and their suicide bombers have provided the Israeli leaders with a convenient source of unity and outrage.


In the United States the left tends to excoriate Israel and throw its support behind the Palestinians. The right tends to attack the Palestinians and stand solidly behind Israel. Israel and the Palestinians become additional proxies in the ongoing fruitless and idiotic conflict between right and left. That Israel is genuinely threatened and that the Palestinians are genuinely suffering seems not as significant as winning points against your opponent. The reflexive support of one or the other regardless of their actions serves neither party well. It only serves the propaganda needs of people on either extreme of the issue. It only furthers the scapegoating violence.


My Orthodox Rabbi friend has children and grandchildren in Israel. He longs for them to grow up in peace and safety. He wants them to be able to sip coffee at a café without fearing for their lives. He wants them to be able to worship and live with freedom. There are many grandfathers in Gaza who want the same for their children and grandchildren. They want them to live free from the threat of violence, from the bitterness of sanctions, blockades, walls and checkpoints. As long as their leaders eagerly use hatred and fear of the other to sustain their power and undergird their moral authority, that is, as long as they scapegoat the other, both of their hopes seem forlorn.


Christians are not to scapegoat. We, perhaps more than others, should see its perniciousness. Our own history is a sordid tale of scapegoating violence. It has taken us years to see clearly that the gospel does not sacrifice the victim, but sets the victim free. Christians refuse the crudity of scapegoating. We refuse to blame the liberals or the conservatives, the African Americans or the Jews, the Catholics or the Fundamentalists, the Muslims or the Atheists. We refuse the cheap and easy assumption of evil at the margins, the smug assignment of blame and disdain. We do not sacrifice—we love. Can we, together, contribute to the peace of Jerusalem? Sadly, if this week is any indication, I doubt it.

Talking but Not Listening

In his book American Protestantism and a Jewish State Hertzel Fishman describes the disagreements between pro-Arab and pro-Israel Protestants following the establishment of the state of Israel as follows:


The rival groups in American Protestantism were simply talking past one another with neither group answering the other’s viewpoint convincingly. The position of the pro-Israel faction who argued Israel’s security needs, was ignored by the pro-Arab group. The latter’s claim for justice for the refugees was all but brushed aside by the former group. (pg. 129)


Nothing much has changed, I thought, reading these lines. To this day such conversations often amount to little more than verbal struggles for the moral high ground. Few are really open to being convinced by the other. Few are willing to really learn or really hear the other. In a black and white world of heroes and villains we assign noble goals to our favorites and sordid motivations to our chosen adversaries. Undoubtedly some of us listen and learn eagerly. Some of us overcome our skepticism, if not our convictions, long enough to ponder the positions of our opponents. But this seems increasingly rare.


Last week I inadvertently initiated a (fairly mild) conflict with members of my own family when one of my siblings posted one of those ubiquitous Facebook polls. The poll read as follows: “Do you approve of Obama’s decision to skip the Memorial Day ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery to go on vacation?” My objection to this poll question had little to do with whether skipping the ceremony was a good thing or bad. I rather objected to the way it was put. First it uses “Obama” rather than “President Obama” or even “Mr. Obama.” During the years of George W. Bush’s presidency his last name was used in similar and equally disrespectful ways. Second, I was put off by the phrase “to go on vacation.” This implies that a rare weekend in Chicago with his family was the equivalent of “going on vacation.” It also suggests President Obama intended to do nothing to honor American dead on Memorial Day—also untrue. I suggested the poll question was about as fair as asking, “Should Bush have launched a preemptive war that killed thousands of innocent Iraqis?”


Be all that as it may, this poll and the conflict that followed underscored for me how poorly we engage in significant conversations about important things. We often seek advantage not clarity. We frequently seek to silence our opponents, not understand them. Now it may surprise some of you, but I am a real fan of conflict avoidance. I would rather not get into arguments over the relative merits of the Republicans and Democrats. I would just as soon skip the fulminating about the perfidious behavior of the Palestinians or the Israelis. And please don’t try to rally me to your cause on the issues of hymns and praise choruses. I am definitely an on-the-one-hand-on-the-other-hand kind of guy. When all else fails, I would argue, keep your mouth shut! Now this may keep the peace (especially important in a family!), but it seldom helps us solve our most intractable human problems. If the Arabs and Israelis really want to engage their differences (and there are plenty on both sides of the issue who have little interest in doing so), they are going to need to listen to each other. If those who are concerned about the poor who lack the most basic healthcare and those troubled by the growth in government spending are ever going to find common ground, they will need to stop shouting at one another.


A perfect example of all this is the ongoing uproar over the Arizona law requiring people suspected of being illegal aliens to produce their papers they are requested by a policeman. On the right people cry, “What part of illegal don’t you understand?” while the left accuses such people of racism. Neither side, I think, is really listening to the other. No country can be expected to permit unlimited and unchecked immigration without significant fraying of its infrastructure and support systems. On the other hand, it seems likely that persons targeted by police will have darker skin and Hispanic accents. And would the law’s supporters be happy if the police had the right at any time to demand that any of us show our “papers”? Such a demand reminds one of an eastern European country under Communism! All this is to say that the conversation could be carried on around different poles than “illegals” and “racists”. Could we ask what are the conditions impoverishing our southern neighbors? Could we discern whether the labor needs of southwestern agriculture could be effectively served by more readily granted work permits? Could we open our hearts to children brought into this country as infants who have no legal status but are in every way as American as the other kids in their grammar and high schools. Could we sit still long enough to genuinely hear the concerns of the other? I have my doubts.

Humility and Humanity

Recently the evangelical world in the United States has endured two more embarrassing scandals involving prominent public figures. George Rekers, an outspoken opponent of homosexuality, gay rights and gay marriage was “outed” for hiring a gay “rentboy” to tour Europe with him. His explanation that the young man was hired to carry his luggage was received with a considerable amount to skepticism. Just last week Representative Mark Souder of Indiana, an ardent advocate for morality and “family values” resigned after admitting a long affair with a much younger staffer. Souder was savaged by commentator Rachel Maddow for making an “abstinence only” video with this very woman. I have no intention of adding to the mockery and abuse heaped on Rekers and Souder. Quite the contrary. I have a good deal of sympathy for them. This sympathy is grounded in my own sinfulness and brokenness. I am a fallen and sinful human being, like Rekers and Souder and, for that matter, everyone who reads these words. As my colleague Klyne Snodgrass puts it, “Ain’t none of us straight.”


My problem with many of my fellow evangelicals is that they don’t seem to fully grasp this. Every time put themselves forward as public scolds and the arbiters of moral correctness, they alienate the very people they are trying to reach and set themselves up for a brutal fall. Why, I have often wondered, do they have to sound so angry, so embittered, and so scornful in attacking the many failings of their fellow citizens? Don’t they realize how this goes over? Can’t they grasp how unappealing, how cruel, and how bitter they sound? And, perhaps more to the point are they completely unaware of their own “twisted little hearts” bent toward self indulgence and security? I have reflected many times on how attractive Jesus was to sinners. They flocked to him. They listened to him. They knew he understood their brokenness and loved them anyway. I don’t think many contemporary sinners find American evangelicals attractive. When they think of us they don’t think of love. They rather think of supercilious condemnation and outright hatred.


American evangelicals need a new strategy. This strategy must be founded upon humility, modesty, compassion, and humanity. We need to see our “opponents” as objects of love, however scornful they are of our values; however much they mock our convictions. Too often evangelicals justify their outrageous rhetoric by claiming the role of prophet. But Israel’s prophets for the most part addressed the failings of their own. Evangelical leaders in the United States seem to spend most of their time these days assaulting their own mission field for the sake of their “base” of outraged traditionalists. There is much to criticize in our current culture. There is much to be distressed about and to weep over. But none of it will be addressed by throwing rocks from the moral high ground. None of it will be addressed by pursuing political power and hoping for the right kind of Supreme Court justices. None of it will be addressed by noisy protests in Washington or angry letters to the editor. It will rather be addressed by the most common, ordinary acts of humble, generous love.


I must add that “right wing” Christians have not cornered the market on moral superiority and public scorn. “Social justice” Christians can be just as high minded, harsh, and intransigent as their more conservative brothers and sisters. They can also call “prophetic” what is merely bad manners and simpering arrogance. They can profess love for the “oppressed” while they despise the benighted “fundamentalist.” An angry and hateful “social justice” Christian is no more attractive than an angry and hateful “fundamentalist.” Jesus called us to love the Lord our God and our neighbor as ourselves. He made it clear that neighbor was not just people we agreed with but the irritating liberal at the next desk or the ignorant fundamentalist across the hall. Our public impact as followers of Jesus will continue to wane unless we are able to acknowledge our own sinfulness and love the unlovable—as God as loved us.


John E. Phelan, Jr.

Privatizing Reconciliation

Yale theologian Miroslav Volf has written widely and well about the challenges of reconciliation and forgiveness. His book Exclusion and Embrace is widely recognized as a classic and Free of Charge is also highly regarded. There is nothing sentimental about Volf’s approach to the challenges of reconciliation. He was raised as a Pentecostal in Communist Yugoslavia and suffered marginalization and abuse for his faith. He also watched his country fall into brutality and genocide in the 1990s. He is well aware of the human capacity for unspeakable evil. And yet, he insists that for Christians seeking reconciliation is foundational. He argues in his aptly titled essay “The Core of the Faith” in Against the Tide that “a vision of reconciliation” is the governing reality of Christian faith. God seeks in Christ to reconcile all things to himself—each broken sinner, every battered society, even the crumbling world.


The problem, Volf argues, is that we have “privatized reconciliation.” We have made it only a kind of spiritual exchange between an individual and God. Such reconciliation is real and important. Writing of Paul’s conversion, he insists that Paul encountered a God who sought reconciliation with the persecutor, not punishment for his victims. The reconciliation between Paul and God was profoundly significant. But Paul never saw this personal reconciliation as the last word. He spent his life seeking reconciliation between Jews and Gentiles, between urban pagans and his tiny Christian communities, and even between those small groups of Christians and the mighty Roman Empire. In Romans 8 he wrote movingly of the groaning hope and anticipated redemption of the whole creation (Romans 8:18-25). Paul knew that his personal reconciliation with God had corporate implications. He wanted his congregations to seek reconciliation within their communities and without. He wanted them to forgive their brothers and sisters and love their enemies. For Paul reconciliation was not a personal possession but a corporate gift—a gift of the church for the entire world.


In 2 Corinthians 5:18 Paul tells the Corinthians they have been given a “ministry of reconciliation.” We are God’s ambassadors entrusted with a message of peace. We come to our fractured and divided world with God’s offer of cease fire. For Paul the church is about reconciliation. And reconciliation, Volf insists, “has social and political dimensions.” He goes on to say that the Christian church has been hesitant to make this move and “offers very little wisdom on the social meaning of reconciliation.” In fact, one could argue that our inability to get along with each other within the church makes it extraordinarily unlikely that the wider society would look to us to bring about reconciliation between and within nations and peoples. With some notable exceptions, like the South African “Truth and Reconciliation” process, the Christian Church has been ineffective and even reluctant to pursue such reconciliation. Heroic individual Christians have acted to seek peace, but the institutional church has an unenviable record.


As I suggested, even within the church reconciliation seems hard to come by. We evidently love our divisions and relish our demonizations. Consider, for example, the contemporary neo-Calvinists and Brian McLaren. Some of the attacks on McLaren and his ilk are startlingly vicious. If you don’t believe me a simple Google search will suffice. Now clearly there are issues to be addressed and differences to be explored. But there seems little willingness to seek common ground or even acknowledge a common struggle. The same could be said for political differences between Christians. The language used by people on the Christian right of President Obama is frankly embarrassing. But, of course, the Christian left was no less scornful of President Bush. Every day on Facebook I see vicious attacks on the President on the one hand and sneers at the “teabaggers” on the other. I have my own concerns and recognize the temptation to unfairly caricature the “other side” of a variety of issues.


I do not mean to say we should not fairly and firmly differ with one another. But should we, can we, seek reconciliation. Should John Piper and Brian McLaren sit down together? Could Franklin Graham seek common ground with Muslim leaders? Could anti-immigrant activists in Arizona and members of immigration reform groups in Chicago actually hear one another’s concerns? Could liberals recognize the humanity of Glenn Beck? Could conservatives hear the anguish of a Jesse Jackson? Could people on different sides of the “Gay marriage” debate seek reconciliation, if not common ground? Can the Church help with any of this or do we simply shrug our shoulders and say there is nothing we can do?


I have not always been able to disagree gracefully. I have failed many times to be an agent of reconciliation. Undoubtedly I will do so again. But I think Volf is right. Christian faith has a social and political dimension that pursues reconciliation—with God, between persons, within nations, and around the world. It is time the church exercised it commission to be ambassadors for Christ with a ministry of reconciliation. Reconciliation does not always mean agreement. But it does mean respect, love, and hope. Too often we may think that reconciliation means I finally persuade you to agree with me. But perhaps the most important opportunities for reconciliation come when we recognize we will never agree, but we can learn to love.


John E. Phelan, Jr.