The author, president of Fuller Theological Seminary and former professor of philosophy (I enjoyed taking at least one of his classes at Calvin College) is, I'm afraid, a bit of a lefty politically. This is not to say that he is not a skilled speaker, lecturer and writer. He is also clearly a committed evangelical Christian.
His basic thesis is that, while American fundamentalism does indeed have some shortcomings (well documented by Mark Noll and others), we should appreciate its positive aspects and be very careful to preserve the baby while disposing of the bathwater. It seems ironic that he combines this conservative thesis with liberal views on the need for more social action, etc.
His contention is that fundamentalism's weak points are closely related to its strong points. Deriving from pietist-revivalist roots, fundamentalism was 'a continuation of earlier pathways, such as those blazed by people who made their way out of European cathedrals into intimate house church fellowships, by [Methodist] circuit riders, and by plantation slaves who walked - and ran - the difficult path to freedom' (8). In the first chapter (Of Tents and Trails), the author relates that a good friend of his has noticed how 'when Mouw gets backed into a corner, he quotes a hymn!' (10). The author admits this and freely quotes from many hymns in the course of his arguments. He reveals his 'social gospel' tendencies in the following story:
'There was a time a few decades ago [i.e. the 1960s] when I began thinking alot about our need to reach out to the poor and the oppressed. This wasn't something I heard much about in the sermons and Bible lessons of my childhood and youth. But it became clear to me that the Bible regularly urges us to take up the cause of those who are needy. Furthermore, it struck me that the biblical writers - Amos and James, for example - weren't just talking about charity; they were addressing systems and structures of injustice' (11). He goes on to explain how, much later, he spoke to a Christian audience on these themes one evening and was afterward confronted by a man who said 'you didn't learn that stuff from the Bible - you got it from Karl Marx!' The author responded by quoting an old hymn:
I'd rather have Jesus than silver or gold,
I'd rather have Him than riches untold;
I'd rather have Jesus than houses or lands,
I'd rather be true to His nail-pierced hands.
He then added 'Once you've learned your lessons in economics from the songs of George Beverly Shea, Karl Marx comes off as pretty tame! ... The hymns of the sawdust trail contain profound messages about what it means to belong to Jesus, even though the implications of those songs were not always recognized by the people who taught us to sing them' (11-12). Dr. Mouw apparently believes that these implications point toward a position to the left of Karl Marx himself on the political scale! This would presumably mean applying the 'social justice' methods of marshalling the coercive force of government to address (in a Marxist/leftist way) these issues of 'justice and peace and social righteousness and faith's implications for a life of learning' (13).
Although the author stops short of explicit calls for government intervention to enforce his ideas of 'social justice,' this is the normal outcome for his leftist school of thought. It is unclear to me why a declaration that Jesus is more important than any worldly good is somehow inconsistent with politically conservative principles like free enterprise, limited government and individual liberty or should lead to support for forced government redistribution of such goods (playing to the covetousness forbidden by the 10th commandment and in direct violation of the 8th commandment against theft).
As an aside, why is it that so many intellectuals are politically liberal, that academic advancement and recognition normally involves moving leftward politically? It almost seems as if the more they 'know,' the further leftward they go! I suppose this is partly due to the immense peer pressure applied by predominantly left-leaning academics and intellectuals. Since advancement involves being recognized by peers, it is essential to play to their likings.
But there is more to this phenomenon than only that. The modern (i.e. secular Enlightenment) intellectual wants to make the ideal of "Reason" his primary guide. Once he believes he has solved a problem using Reason, he wants the solution ensconced in law for all people for all time. For this, he turns to the state. It bothers him that, left to their own devices, many people may not abide by these solutions and may 'waste' time and effort attempting to arrive at their own (faulty, he believes) solutions. In this way, a committment to Reason leads eventually to totalitarianism (e.g. the French Reign of Terror, Nazism, Maoist or Soviet communism). Christianity, with its deep respect for each individual as created in the very image of God (imago Dei), has historically provided a brake to this kind of anti-pluralism, pagan in origin. Given this, its easier to understand why fundamentalist Christianity has also sometimes bred anti-intellectualism (i.e. mistrust of idealized Reason).
Don't get me wrong; I applaud individuals and organizations who voluntarily offer assistance to those in need. Indeed, this is a fundamental responsibility for Christians. But when they demand access to the public trough to finance these activities through coercive taxation, they've left the realm of biblical principle behind and are venturing into a set of ideas and practices of very different origin. The fruits of Christianity (in theory and in history) are individualism, liberty, the rule of law, progress, voluntarism, community and justice in an atmosphere of limited government, while those of paganism are collectivism, total regulation, the rule of man, fear and repressed civil society, centralized, top-down power and eventually total oppression in the absence of Christian mercy and restraint.
The second chapter (Natural Spirituality) addresses the many 'living streams' or traditions other than fundamentalism/evangelicalism which have value. He cites in particular such Catholic sources as the Desert Fathers, the Rule of Saint Benedict, Henri Nouwen and The Story of a Soul by Saint Therese of Lisieux. He makes the excellent point that our spiritual expression varies with our personalities and is quite individualized. He cites the book Prayer and Temperament by Chester P. Michael and Marie C. Norrisey and indicates a favorite of his is Abraham Kuyper's book To Be Near Unto God, which stresses how we've been formed by God as unique individuals from conception and shouldn't feel unduly constrained by other peoples' pieties.
In the next chapter (A Label Worth Wearing), the author proudly wears the evangelical label, defining it and discussing its strengths and weaknesses. His definition is excellent and I'll quote it here at length (21):
The evangelical movement is a loose coalition of groups and ministries that have their origins in various branches of Protestant pietism and pietist-type groups. Pietism is a pattern of Christianity that has emphasized the experiential dimensions of the Christian faith. European pietism had its beginnings in a reaction against a highly intellectualized orthodoxy that had become the norm in many Lutheran and Reformed churches in the century or so after the Reformation. Early pietist groups protested what they saw as the intellectualistic excesses of rationalistic orthodoxy, whose fascination with 'head knowledge' - to use a favorite pietist way of putting things - seemed to be crowding out 'heart knowledge'.Today's evangelical movement includes some groups whose histories can be directly traced back to these reactions, as well as other groups - Wesleyans, Pentecostals, Baptists, the heirs of the Puritans, and others - who emphasize experiential motifs similar to those emphasized by the pietists. We present-day evangelicals, like the pietists of the past, insist that to be a Christian, properly understood, is to experience the regeneration of the inner self, so that the claims of the gospel are appropriated in a very personal way. We want people to know Jesus as a living Savior. The Bible for us is a book that God uses in order to speak to each of us about how we should live our lives.
Wary of rigid dogmatism, we nevertheless insist on proper doctrine as the critical basis for 'warm piety.' In church life, our two primary themes are local fellowship (vs. organizational hierarchy or complexity) and evangelism, making heavy use of 'parachurch' organizations (including small-group fellowships) to translate biblical faith into practical action.
The author cites the three key weaknesses of the sawdust trail; anti-intellectualism, otherworldliness and a separatistic spirit (usually enforced by legalism) which he and others have been trying to address and reform, with some success.
The next chapter (The Making of a Convinced Evangelical) is a spiritual biography of the author, in which he confesses that 'for a few years during that decade [the 1960s] I tried very hard not to be an evangelical' (29). His mother was Dutch Reformed and his father a convert of a fundamentalist, inner-city Mission. Later in the book, he notes that he went forward and made a personal commitment at a Billy Graham crusade meeting. He notes that the primary training tool used in the Mission was the Scofield Reference Bible. His father later went on to become a Reformed minister, but always retained his Scofield-flavored 'smell of sawdust.' 'Our family drew heavily on the spiritual resources of the fundamentalist world. We spent vacation time at Bible conferences listening to sermons on 'Bible prophecy.' We had family devotions where we read together from books published by Moody Press. We subscribed to fundamentalist magazines and listened to 'gospel preaching' on the radio' (30). While some scholars like to draw clear boundaries between fundamentalism, the 'holiness' movement and Pentecostalism, the author's family often crossed these lines, befriending those from Wesleyan, Assemblies of God, Christian and Missionary Alliance, Conservative Baptist and Swedish Covenant churches (but rarely those from mainline churches).
He shares how when he was in high school, he worked on the kitchen crew of a fundamentalist Bible conference. While the teaching content was heavily biblical, there were dispensationalist charts on the walls and also 'regular condemnations of the ecumenical movement and of the 'wolves in sheep's clothing'' (31) within the fundamentalist fold. One of these 'dangerous' forces was Fuller. Years later, Dr. Mouw returned for a visit, touring the grounds with the director, who was friendly until he discovered Dr. Mouw's identity as Fuller's President. At that point, he became very wary and cool, which greatly saddened the author. The author explains that, as an evangelical, he finds resistance from both the theological left and right (this makes sense, since evangelicalism attempts to avoid both extremes). He confesses that while the liberal criticism doesn't bother him much, 'when fundamentalists treat me like a heretic, it gets to me in a deep place' (33). The author had tried to avoid conflict with the director because 'I knew I could not convince him of my wholehearted commitment to 'biblical truth.' There are too many things that go into his definitions of orthodoxy to which I simply could not subscribe. But it saddens me that this is the case - in a way that I am not troubled about my differences with a liberal Protestant' (34). I understand this. Its simple to dispute those who, like the liberals, explicitly do not take the Bible or the faith seriously, but more difficult and troubling to dispute those who do, but who we still think are misguided. The author quotes Joel Carpenter's book Revive Us Again, characterizing fundamentalism as 'often intellectually lame, provincial, petty, mean-spirited, stultifying and manipulative' but nevertheless 'enabling and energizing' as well.
The author cites a number of books that have influenced him. He candidly admits that J. D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye (and its main character Holden Caulfield) held some interest, but happily relates that, after a struggle for his soul, the fundamentalist Sugar Creek Gang stories won the day. Philosophically, he cites Plato's The Republic, Rousseau's The Social Contract and Thoreau's Walden for intellectual development. Sinclair Lewis's Elmer Gantry comfirmed his own experience that some (but not all) evangelists partook of charlatanry and 'put me in a frame of mind to distance myself from the more emotional aspects of the fundamentalist piety' (36). Harry Emerson Fosdick's A Guide to Understanding the Bible depicted the transition from Old to New Testament religion in evolutionary terms. The author was not completely convinced, but found the book to be a stimulating intellectual adventure. A Reformed pastor suggested (as an antidote to Fosdick) Edward J. Young's Thy Word is Truth, which insisted on inerrancy and the authority of the Bible, but did recognize that 'how you read the Bible depends a great deal on the presuppositions you bring to the text' (37). Young's book, along with J. I. Packer's Fundamentalism and the Word of God confirmed for reader Mouw the importance of the 'high' view of biblical authority. Finally, Edward John Carnell's The Case for Orthodox Theology criticized fundamentalism as 'orthodoxy gone cultic' and raised the possibility for student Mouw and others of rejecting its 'cultic accretions' while also avoiding [theological] liberalism and retaining orthodox doctrine. This newer thinking was reflected by Fuller (Carnell's school), Christianity Today magazine 'and a number of other organizations that were distancing themselves from the older fundamentalism' (39).
The author describes how his pro-MLK Jr., pro-civil rights movement and anti-Vietnam war feelings ran against the grain of many of his evangelical associates. 'I explored alternative worldviews. While I was joining political protests, I also was enrolled in advanced courses in social thought and ethics. I attended churches - ecumenical chapel services, Catholic masses, liberal Protestant congregations - where the 'big' moral issues were dealt with at length and in depth. I read extensively in 'social gospel' and 'radical discipleship' literature. I learned much in and through all of this - but I found little to satisfy me in the deep places of my soul. I had some new moral convictions, but I wanted to ground them in a larger understanding of the way things are' (40). I'm afraid this means, in other words, he was looking for ways to justify political leftism as being endorsed by Jesus, the Bible and traditional evangelical piety. Unlike many of the protestors, he wanted to base the hope behind the popular civil rights theme song 'We Shall Overcome' on the resurrection of Jesus Christ, that He has overcome sin and death. Evangelicals had always preached the importance of surrendering our sex lives, personal habits and financial dealings to the Lord. 'But I now started to pose the evangelical questions about more 'corporate' concerns' (41) e.g. the draft, voting, attitudes and policies of racism, nationalism, militarism and ethnocentrism. He became convinced that 'while I had to keep wrestling with many of the trappings of evangelicalism, I had no choice but to do so as an evangelical' (43). What he doesn't seem to understand (and I need to explain/clarify) is that political leftism is inherently secular and anti-Christian and that evangelicalism has (at least recently and with good reason) aligned itself with cultural and political conservatism.
Past political alignment of evangelicalism is a very interesting question. As an aside here, in the May 2002 issue of Liberty magazine, Joe Bast wrote an article 'Libertarians, Conservatives, and the Religious Right' in which he encouraged the three groups to set aside differences and work together on common goals. He said 'Evangelicals and libertarians are natural, if unlikely, allies.' In the following issue (June 2002), John Engleman of Walnut Creek, CA writes (Letters, p. 6):
Actually, evangelicals are the mirror image of libertarians. They are conservatives on social issues, and leftists on economic issues.The average person who identifies with the religious right is a lower middle income person. Consequently, he or she benefits from Social Security, Medicare, unemployment compensation, and minimum wage laws. Moreover, he or she knows it. During the Reagan recession of 1982, when unemployment reached levels unmatched since the 1930s, Jerry Falwell admitted that he had no political authority over his parishioners when they were afraid of losing their jobs.
The political goals of the religious right include prohibiting abortion and pornography, enacting blue laws, and authorizing prayer and Bible reading in public schools. These cannot be achieved voluntarily. They require the backing of a government that is willing to initiate the use of force.
A more natural ally for the religious right is the labor movement. William Jennings Bryan created such an alliance during his unfortunately unsuccessful effort to be elected president as the Democratic candidate during the presidential campaign of 1896. Evangelicals were a part of the New Deal coalition during the 1930s. They usually voted Democrat until the Democratic Party adopted libertarian social values during the late sixties.
Lots to think about here. If taken as true, this could explain where evangelicalism jumped the tracks leading up to the Scopes debacle. Maybe a key problem for evangelicalism from the beginning has been its occasional flirtation with the political left? Indeed, the case could be made that, during the Reformation and shortly after, evangelicalism represented the more progressive, radical, revolutionary (i.e. leftist) ideas. Also, the book Dancing in the Dark clarifies that revivalism was aligned with modernism (in contrast to the Reformed view, which is anti-modern). However, following George H. Nash's The Conservative Intellectual Movement in America Since 1945 (1996), I tend to think of this as an internecine debate within the broad conservative movement (comprised of libertarian, traditionalist, anti-communist, neoconservative and "religious right" streams). Hmmm, food for further thought!
Anyway, in the next chapter (Mindful Evangelicalism), the author relates his conflicted feelings in 1970 as he waited to defend his Ph.D. (Philosophy) dissertation before the doctoral committee of the University of Chicago (he'd studied there fulltime for 3 years). He felt guilty on two counts; as if he were being untrue to both his secular professors (fearing if they knew his real convictions, they'd fail him) and also to his fundamentalist Christian heritage in pursuing a secular degree. He later explains that being a Christian scholar means remaining open to the tension between dry intellectualism and doctrinally misguided enthusiasm (and perhaps between the truth and academically fashionable leftist dogma). After struggling for some time about the philosophical bent he'd developed, he was able to make 'peace as a Christian with the idea of a questioning spirit' (48), realizing the importance to the evangelical movement for some at least to ask fundamental and difficult questions. He took to heart John Stott's advice for us to be 'conservative radicals,' committed both to conserving the truth of God's Word and also to radically challenging all else in the light of it.
Before taking aim at anti-intellectualism, the author offers a sympathetic view of its pietistic origins. He reminds us of two distinct stages of pietist revolt against intellectualism. The first was against the highly intellectualized orthodoxy of mainstream religion already mentioned (i.e. during the Reformation). The second was against the 'enlightenment' and 'modernist' way of thinking in which 'Reason became the reference point for deciding all issues of truth and goodness and meaning' (50, during the Enlightenment). Summing it up, he offers that 'the pietists ... were right to worry about what intellectual types were capable of doing once they decided to apply their rational schemes to religion. Dead orthodoxy and living heterodoxy are indeed serious threats to a vibrant Christian faith' (51). Continuing his sympathetic look back, he notes other reasons for pietists' distrust of formal education: their concern for effective ministry (fearing the tendency for theological education to dampen spiritual ardor); the fact that many have engaged in wonderful ministries with no formal training (e.g. Corrie ten Boom); and the urgency of doing the Lord's work.
But the existence of natural leaders points to the need for research and teaching to learn from them and pass on the lessons to others. And just as hospitals do urgent work based on careful, unhurried academic research, 'the same can be said for the urgent tasks of preaching, counseling, evangelizing, and feeding the hungry' (54). Carl Henry's 1947 book The Uneasy Conscience of Modern Fundamentalism 'discerned that the evangelical lack of a sense of social responsibility was rooted in an inadequate perspective on culture and in a closely related failure to develop strong intellectual habits ... he urged evangelicals to 'develop a competent literature in every field of study'' (54). While progress has been made (Christian scholarly organizations in philosophy, history, science and literature as well as cooperative efforts among evangelical colleges and seminaries), there remains a long way to go to achieve Henry's vision. I would caution here that the great temptation will be for unwary Christians, anxious to achieve scholarly acknowledgement, to adopt uncritically the huge, well-developed and, at most universities, dominant, body of left-leaning perspective in these areas. The author discusses Mark Noll's book The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind and Alister McGrath's Evangelicalism and the Future of Christianity. Interestingly, the former admonishes the movement to become more intellectual and the latter warns of the dangers along that route. So the tension remains.
A general observation on this book is that Dr. Mouw spends so much time feeling guilty about, apologizing for and qualifying his critique of evangelicalism that he seems to short-change and muddle that critique! He insists that he is still theologically conservative (even though his politics are leftist), although one senses his defensive discomfort on that point. He offers few specifics other than just continue to develop the Christian intellect and observe the tensions. He offers no real clear-cut advice to move ahead (e.g. specific goals for the movement, socio-political policy prescriptions). In many parts of the book, the author seems to mince words and offer sequential 'on the other hand' warnings. The title and most of the text is more conservative, in the sense of preserving the good parts of our fundamentalist past. But this is ironic, since the author clearly wants us to move leftward politically. These are incompatible goals. I believe at least some of this cognitive dissonance is being caused by his leftist assumptions themselves, which are indeed difficult (if not impossible) to reconcile with clear, right thinking in these matters.
In the next chapter (Fundamentalism Revisited), Dr. Mouw shares his 'perverse theological fantasy' of initiating a new evangelical movement called 'neo-fundamentalism.' This would be his way of memorializing the many positive contributions of our fundamentalist past as evangelicals (and would anger many others who believe we should make a clean break with fundamentalism). He cites as inspiration for this idea George Marsden's 'much-acclaimed history of Fuller Seminary' Reforming Fundamentalism. The author recommends two other books which ably tell the story of American fundamentalism; Marsden's Fundamentalism and American Culture; The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelicalism, 1870-1925 (1980) and Joel Carpenter's Revive Us Again: The Reawakening of American Fundamentalism (1997, covers 1930-50). Carpenter tells the fascinating story (some of which is related by Dr. Mouw) of how fundamentalist leaders of the 1930s and 1940s managed to outflank the liberals (who had written them off) to lay the early foundations for the modern successes of evangelicalism.
As a side-note, it is fascinating how this story parallels the political one told in George H. Nash's The Conservative Intellectual Movement in America Since 1945, which relates how the politically conservative/libertarian 'remnant' managed to not only to survive and recover but actually to achieve ascendency later in the century. Another parallel is how the extremists [e.g. John Birch Society] were marginalized so the movement could be mainstreamed. A NR editorial (20 May 02, p. 16) notes that, after George Wallace's embarassing rise in the late 1960s, 'for 12 years, conservative GOP strategists tried to capture the Wallace vote. They also hoped to change it, edging it toward the free market and draining it of racism. This process is called leadership, and after the false dawn of Richard Nixon, it succeeded with Ronald Reagan.'
The author relates the story often told by Sigmund Freud about the pastor who is summoned to the bedside of a dying, atheistic insurance salesman. After an extended consersation, the pastor emerges from the room, it is discovered that the salesman is still an atheist, but the pastor has been sold a new policy! Freud meant to convey to psychoanalysts that they should not compromise their principles (and also no doubt to portray religious proselytizing as nothing more than a sales pitch), but Dr. Mouw uses it to warn us in our dealings with modern culture to be the seller and not the buyer. Although evangelicals are no longer an alienated (culturally, socially, politically, theologically) 'beleaguered remnant' (an image strongly encouraged by fundamentalists), we must take care to be faithful to the gospel and avoid contamination by our sinful and misguided surroundings (65).
The author is making the same mistake made by Richard Hofstadter in his book Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (1964) in assuming that becoming intellectually 'enlightened' equates to moving leftward politically. But not all intellectuals are political liberals! I'm now wondering if perhaps Mark Noll is making this same mistake (I need to look into this). Maybe a recognition of this tendency is behind Alister McGrath's warnings against evangelicals becoming more intellectually sophisticated.
In Habits of the Heart, Robert Bellah and his colleagues call churches and synagogues to be ''communities of memory' in a culture fast losing its awareness of the past' (66). This highlights another fundamentalist shortcoming. They 'often seemed to think that the history of the 'real' church jumped from the early church to a quick stop at Martin Luther and then on to the fundamentalist-modernist controversies of the early 20th century' (66). Since ideas have consequences, we must be careful to study the ideas (both good and bad) of the past in order to detect and avoid the bad ones and conserve the good ones. If we can draw the correct lessons from these past battles, they will help us engage the present culture effectively and avoid recycling old heresies.
In the next chapter (Emphasizing Fundamentals), Dr. Mouw affirms his support for the 'fundamentals,' such doctrines as 'the Virgin Birth of Jesus, his full divinity, the blood sacrifice character of his atoning work, the real physical body that came out of the tomb in Easter morning, the blessed hope of his Second Coming' (71). Fundamentalists defended these basics against the modernists and liberals who tried to ditch them in the early decades of the 20th century. He does agree with some (e.g. Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox) who have noted 'that large numbers of evangelicals ... do in fact operate with an extremely limited theological perspective' (e.g. typically weak on the church, sacraments). He feels the term 'evangelical' works better as a modifier than as a noun, describing only a set of theological emphases. Mouw describes himself, for example, as an evangelical Calvinist (other major theological traditions would be Catholic, Lutheran, Orthodox, Wesleyan or Anabaptist). As an evangelical (pietist), he is wary of 'scholastic tendencies in some branches of Reformed orthodoxy' as well as 'both modernist and postmodernist revisionisms in the mainline Presbyterian denomination to which I belong' (74).
He notes the interesting parallel between fundamentalism and monasticism. Both enforce a strict separatism using legalistic rules. Of course, 'Monks don't insist everyone has to live the way they do. They don't have children whose lives they make miserable. A Monk senses a unique call from God to the separated life. The monastic way is a 'special vocation.'' (75). The problem with fundamentalists is not their separatism or legalism, it is their exclusivist insistence that all Christians live in that way. Dr. Mouw likes to see fundamentalists in this light, as members of a special religious 'order' (even though they would not see it that way). This allows him to admire and even 'draw spiritual strength from their example.'
In the next chapter (To The Jew First), Dr. Mouw relates how a reporter for a Jewish news agency characterized him as being a 'conflicted man' for promoting both evangelization of Jews (e.g. supporting Jews for Jesus) and 'deep respect for ... [and] dialogue with the larger Jewish community about important matters of common interest' (78). This tension is rooted in the theological question of how Israel and the Church are related. Reacting against the dispensationalist condemnations (as Satanic) of one world race, church and government (and corresponding calls for Christians to resist racial desegregation, the WCC and the UN) he had heard as a youth, he adopted the standard (anti-dispensationalist) Reformed response (focusing on 1 Peter 2:9-10, while downplaying Romans 11): the Church has completely replaced (become) Israel as recipient of God's special favor. This involved rejecting both any continuing significance of the present-day nation of Israel (or the Jewish diaspora) and also any 'civil religion' concept of America as the new 'chosen people' or 'a city on a hill' (actively promoted by Jonathan Edwards and many others).
He has since modified this stark position, however, retaining his (typically leftist) aversion to any linkage of America to God's special favor while allowing that God may have continuing special plans for Israel (distinct from the Church). He likes 'the idea that the church has also been incorporated, in an important sense, into a new and expanded version of the old Israel' (82). The Reformed view is especially attractive to him as a basis of Christian (meaning I'm afraid, for him, more left-leaning) social ethics. He is also disturbed by the 'refusal on the part of many dispensationalists to criticize the policies of Israeli governments' (84), their (seemingly ironic, Mouw explains they love an idealized Judaism, but care little for individual Jews) failure to take a strong stand against anti-Semitism and their (related) elevated sense of the importance of ethnicity to the Kingdom of God. He seems to favor more leftist (anti-American, anti-Israel, pro-Arab, multiculturalist) approaches to dispensationalism's conservative ones. He admits this is a continuing mystery and we must live with the tension of irresolution.
One of the author's heroes is Corrie ten Boom, author of The Hiding Place. While she wanted everyone to know Jesus (evangelism), she risked her life to provide physical safety for Jews, whether or not she could witness to them. Unlike Reformed thinking in North America (which flatly denies any continuing favor by God toward the Jews), the Reformed tradition in the Netherlands tends to see (at least psychologically, if not theologically) a strong 'kinship' between Calvinists and Jews, both groups thinking of themselves as God'’s 'elect' and having 'intertwined destinies.' He sums up his attitude toward Jews as 'a threefold agenda ... witnessing to; learning from; cooperating with.' We shouldn't think of them as mere 'targets' of evangelism. We can learn much on 'issues of public life and also about deeply religious topics' (he suggests reading Abraham Joshua Heschel on the prophets or the Sabbath, the fiction of Chaim Potok, Harry Kemelman's Rabbi Small mystery novels). We must cooperate in 'striving for justice and righteousness in the larger society' (90). He cites as examples of the latter Lausanne's denouncing the 'proliferation of racism and Jew-hatred in our world today ... seeking creative resolutions to conflicts in the Middle East ... [and] willing[ness] to work with Jews and others as 'co-belligerents' - to use one of Christian apologist Francis Schaeffer's favorite terms - in finding a common moral basis for promoting the good order of our pluralistic society' (92, vs. offending Jews by referring to America as a 'Christian nation' in debates with secularists).
In Dispensationalist Blessings, the author continues his discussion of dispensationalism, reviewing Edward John Carnell's characterization of it as 'orthodoxy gone cultic' and Mark Noll's singling it out as a prime cause of anti-intellectualism. While most theologians disdain 'the kind of [dispensationalist] pseudo-prophecy stuff you find in Hal Lindsey,' many have come to know Christ through Lindsey's books. One evangelist of his youth believed Hitler and Roosevelt were alive in South America, 'plotting against the forces of righteousness,' and insisted biblical (Ezekiel) mentions of 'Gomer' and 'the prince of Meshech' were coded references to Germany and Moscow. He inclines toward an amillenial position, but believes Jesus is coming again, maybe soon, and allows the possibility of a literal antichrist deciever and later thousand-year reign of Christ. He's seen too much saintly good come from dispensationalism to totally abandon it.
In 1972 (during the Vietnam war) he closed a prayer at a Wheaton conference by asking God to not only bless the attempt to advance the cause of truth, but also the causes of peace, justice and righteousness in the world. Afterward, a man chided him for his 'pro-McGovern' (anti-war) prayer, insisting there will be no peace in the world until the Prince of Peace returns. As an aside, I wonder who the author supported in the 1972 election? McGovern perhaps? Anyway, as he pondered this later, he reflects 'my instinct was to challenge his assumption that we have no hope for success in our peace-making efforts prior to Christ's return. But this argument wouldn't likely have gotton me anywhere. The more interesting point, I realized ... [was] his insistence that if we believe something bad is a fulfillment of prophecy, then we should be passive in our acceptance of that state of affairs.' (this assumes the leftist view that the Vietnam war was bad, in principle, vs. the conservative view that it was justified, but poorly executed [due to leftist leadership]). He notes the inconsistency of their vocal protestations against certain things (e.g. what the Bible predicted would be 'the emergence of a large apostate church and a widespread spirit of moral anarchy,' leading to condemnations of the WCC, the errors of papalism, pornography, abortion-on-demand), but not others (e.g. unjust wars, oppressive racism, unbridled materialism). This also assumes leftist characterization and critique of these latter are on the mark, which I don't accept.
While the author is not unhappy to see dispensationalism fading, he wants to cheer both its spiritual and intellectual merits. Their general view of history (as moving from crisis to crisis, getting worse, in need of divine intervention, whence hope), in contrast to that of liberal protestantism, has been vindicated by 20th century events. 'Who was better equipped to prepare their children for the now much-heralded demise of Enlightenment optimism - the dispensationalists, or their cultured despisers?' (102). Bottom line: we know Jesus is coming, but we don't know when.
In Understanding Sister Helen's Tears, the author addresses evangelical anti-Catholicism. He shares how his 7th grade public school teacher, Miss Helen O'Connell (she, like most of his teachers, was Irish Catholic), cried as she announced she would leave public education to become a nun. The author's participation in Evangelicals and Catholics Together (ECT, dedicated to emphasizing shared beliefs/concerns) has drawn alot of criticism from evangelicals as a betrayal of the Reformation. Some fundamentalists in his youth identified the pope as the antichrist and the Catholic church as being 'in bondage to pagan beliefs' (109). He cites 19th century evangelical stalwarts Charles Hodge and Dwight L. Moody as having 'refused to conform to the [evangelical] anti-Catholicism' of the day. Evangelicals and Catholics often 'talk past' one another, with evangelicals emphasizing salvation issues (i.e. explicit alter calls) and Catholics the corporate life of the church (i.e. 'business as usual'). Another fault-line is Catholic prayer to saints (more 'heavenly' friends, 'richer experience of the community of the faithful') vs. evangelical 'just Jesus and me' individualistic patterns. Thanks largely to Vatican II, the two groups have moved closer together theologically in the last 2 decades. Much progress has been made, he says, but further renewal is needed in both camps.
In 'Real' Evangelism, the author explains his support for evangelism, as traditionally understood by evangelicals. He says this includes 3 critical components; conversion (changed lives), experience (people know they've been saved) and cognitive content (right-thinking). He then turns to a serious consideration and rebuttal of the 3 main complaints against this view; its tendency to polarize people (in vs. out), its (ironic) intellectualism (insisting on intellectual assent to certain doctrines) and its individualism. On the first, the Bible itself uses strong polarizing language, but of course we are not the judges. He suggests we call everyone to faith, refraining from arrogantly judging who were lost. He'd probably disagree with Billy Sunday's dictum that 'before you can get'em saved, you gotta get'em lost!' (convince them of their need for salvation). On the second point, he agrees that faith involves changes in feeling and doing as well as just thinking, citing Paul Tillich's advice to sometimes 'be silent, in order to preserve the mystery of the words, instead of destroying their meaning by our common talk' (120). On the third point, he agrees that a 'personal relationship with Jesus Christ is the foundation on which everything else rests' and doesn't find criticisms of evangelicalism's 'just me and Jesus' tendencies very convincing, but also can't resist the opportunity to call attention to the need to reflect Jesus in 'systemic and corporate' issues such as racism, sexism and consumerism (presumably in a leftist way). He sees inconsistency in a man who opposed civil rights legislation (preferring racist attutudes be changed one by one though conversion), but then wanted to ban the teaching of evolution in public schools (the answer in both cases is to respect private property, maximizing civil society and minimizing political society). Finally he cites (from Sandra Sizer's Gospel Hymns and Social Religion) 2 conflicting streams in evangelism; the imperialistic approach of Onward Christian Soldiers (and the Marine Hymn) vs. the 'Softly and Tenderly' approach of quiet pleading, favoring the latter.
In 'Preaching the Blood,' the author remembers his father and others grading others for theological 'soundness.' Rankings would be 'pretty sound' (willing to defend the fundamentals if push came to shove), 'very sound' (willing to initiate pushing and shoving when necessary) and, the highest praise, 'he preaches the blood' (willing to be a 'fool for Christ'). The 'social psychology,' he says, is easy to understand. Accustomed to being ridiculed by more 'sophisticated' theological liberals (who characterized fundamentalism as a 'slaughterhouse religion' in which a primitive deity could be mollified only if he smelled blood), fundamentalists banded together as a 'cognitive minority,' maintaining boundaries by such 'soundness' grades. Ironically, these 'premodern' and 'primitive' (so labelled by theological liberals) fundamentalist themes (blood sacrifice, payment, ransom) are coming back into vogue these days with the postmodern movement. Here's how he describes the shift:
Enlightenment thinkers made much of the power of 'the light of reason' to illuminate the basic issues of life. Many of them were uncompromising in their insistence that the enlightened human mind was the highest standard of truth and meaning and value in the universe. And typically the scientific method was touted as the only reliable guide to finding the truth about reality. When this faith in science was wedded to what is referred to these days as 'the myth of Progress,' people were very optimistic about what scientific exploration could produce. Toward the end of the 19th century, for example, many people were proclaiming the birth of a new era of discovery. Humankind was on the threshold, they said, of solving many age-old problems - war, poverty, tribalisms, prejudice - by following the scientific path to Truth.For many people this confidence was completely shattered by the events of the 20th century. Two world wars - to say nothing of the unspeakable inhumanity of the Holocaust - made it difficult to believe we human beings were destined to use scientific knowledge to create new patterns of harmonious coexistence. Poverty, prejudice, ethnic hostility, polluted environments - all of these have proven to be quite resistant to whatever gains we might want to attribute to 'Progress.'
He goes on to say that while 'not everyone has given up on 'rational' solutions to the basic problems of the human condition ... [there are] widespread reactions against the Enlightenment' (130). Neopaganism is making a comeback. 'Not a few of the professors who taught their students about the glories of scientific progress have themselves joined witches' covens and neopagan cults' (130). This movement has also had some positive effects within the Christian community. 'The older [theological] liberalism - the kind my father and his friends saw as the major threat to evangelical orthodoxy - has lost some of its appeal ... there is a new interest in more traditional - even Catholic and Orthodox - understandings of the Eucharist' (130-1). There is more openness to enduring mystery.
My view is that the postmodern movement is an overreaction. The Enlightenment was mostly good and should be retained (tempered with the understanding that human reason can be warped, often tending toward error and evil, and that God's power and wisdom far outstrip our own, see Time For Truth). The real culprit behind the disillusionment Dr. Mouw describes was the mistaken progressivist view that government could be used to force solutions onto society. This lead many to reject major parts of the western Great Tradition (i.e. Judeo-Christian in nature, including e.g. individualism, republican [limited and secular; secularism is fine for government, fatal for society] government, consent of the governed, the rule of law, balance of powers, etc.) and to embrace 'scientific socialism,' the devaluing of the individual for the sake of the collective, the New Deal, the welfare state, and finally totalitarianism in Maoist, Soviet and Nazi varieties. In short, retain the Enlightenment, with its optimistic emphasis on reason and rationality (made possible by the light of God's Truth), but lose the leftist, progressivist faith in government (often to the point of replacing faith in God) to solve all of humanity's problems. Its almost as if postmodernism was created by disillusioned leftists who said, fine, if we can't force our solutions onto everyone through collectivism and get our view of truth accepted, we'll deny the very possibility of knowing truth, finding solutions and of having a peaceful, just society. Alot of postmodernism is just plain sour grapes by leftists (and not a little youthful wishful thinking that the world could be like they want it to be and think it should be)!
The author includes an interesting explanation of the 'three historical arguments' that evangelicalism has maintained with Judaism, Catholicism and mainline [liberal] protestantism. 'The first argument was with the Jewish community, as the early church proclaimed that the sacrifices of temple Judaism were no longer necessary because Jesus had, as both the lamb who was slain and the great High Priest, fully satisfied God's demand that an adequate payment for sin be made. The second argument took place in the 16th century, when the Protestant Reformers proclaimed the 'once for all'-ness of the work of Christ in their criticisms of the Roman mass and the selling of indulgences. And in response to the teachings of liberal Protestants, evangelicals have defended the understanding of atonement associated with the biblical themes of payment, sacrifice, and ransom' (132). In response to the question 'what do evangelicals believe that the other 3 groups do not,' he quoted the hymn 'It is Well with my Soul:'
My sin - O the bliss of this glorious thought -
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.
'The rabbi certainly is not going to sing about his sins being nailed to the cross of Jesus Christ. And the priest, if he stands for the kind of Catholicism Martin Luther preached against, is not going to proclaim that because of the once-for-all sacrifice on the cross he can proclaim it is forevermore well with his soul. And much of mainline Protestantism has long been influenced by a modernizing tendency that rejects 'payment' and 'sacrifice' motifs in talking about the ministry of Jesus' (132).
He wraps up this chapter with a discussion on the dual nature of the gospel, personal and cosmic. It wonderfully allows us to sing 'It is Well with my Soul' but, as we look around, we can see that all is not well with our world. He claims that this latter 'enterprise we evangelicals have often failed to pursue with any sustained sense of urgency' (133). But of course the key here is diagnosing the problem and suggesting cures, the leftist call for more government or the conservative/libertarian (and American founding) call for more free enterprise, limited government, individual liberty, traditional values. Could it be that his sense of evangelical failure here is related to his commitment to the leftist approach (in spite of its record of spectacular failure and even linkage to unbelief) and failure to see the true path to societal or 'cosmic' wholeness in conservative approaches derived from the Judeo-Christian western heritage?
In 'A Word Hidden in the Heart,' the author recalls his childhood fundamentalist emphasis on Bible memorization and 'sword [Bible] drills' to find and quote verses. While these practices 'tended to promote a scattershot approach to appropriating the biblical message' and, by avoiding context, probably led to misunderstanding of some verses, he still sees value in this way of learning 'a common Christian mode of discourse' (136) and regrets its loss (largely due to the proliferation of Bible translations in recent years.
He then moves into the important and controversial topic of biblical authority, recalling the furor created by Harold Lindsell's 1976 book The Battle for the Bible. Insisting on strict 'inerrancy' and in the interest of harmonizing the 4 gospels, Lindsell (among other things, but notoriously in this case) insisted that Peter must have denied Christ 6 times (rather than the commonly understood 3 times). He also maintained that any who disagreed with him were 'out,' lumped together as deniers of biblical authority (i.e. you're with us or against us, no in between, that familiar old fundamentalist legalism-enforced separatism). Rejecting their 'slippery slope' argument, Dr. Mouw and others at Fuller prefer the term 'infallible' to 'inerrant,' clarifying that 'the arguments were more about methods of studying the Scriptures than they were about whether we have a right to reject something clearly taught by the biblical writers' (138).
The author admits that some of his annoyance with the 'inerrants' is related to their resistance to his (and others') calls for 'social justice' (citing Amos' identity with the 'oppressed,' they'd respond that Amos was speaking in a theocratic dispensation and doesn't apply today ... I'd respond that real oppression requires state support and the best way to minimize oppression is to effectively minimize state power, and furthermore that 'social justice' inspired welfare-state schemes lead to still more oppression). He insists that 'the Bible is more than a set of propositions requiring our cognitive assent' (139) (although it certainly is that, it also 'gives us prayers, dreams, visions, commands, songs, complaints, pleadings, parables, love letters, and more ... [it] tell[s] us [other] things in ways that cannot be reduced to simple propositions'). He wraps up the chapter by recalling a letter he received shortly after being named President of Fuller from a noted evangelist. The letter positively referred to the author's late uncle Tunis Mouw (a fundamentalist pastor) and wondered if Dr. Mouw intended to lead Fuller 'back to the truth of God's Word?' He responded with appreciation for the work of the evangelist and with his view that Fuller had never left that path, but would continue to seek God's wisdom in today's world (not, let us hope, in a politically leftist way).
In Toward a New Worldliness, the author wryly suggests that Jesus is fed up with 'Christian politics,' particularly those of 'the Christian Right' (143). Having rejected the 'kind of evangelicalism ... [which] had little interest in taking an active role in the public square ... [and] saw [themselves] as a remnant people in a world bound to get worse before the return of Christ ... [whose] main task ... was [D L Moody's image] helping drowning people get into the lifeboats' (144), he authored several books promoting a change of perspective: Political Evangelism (1973), Politics and the Biblical Drama (1976) and Called to Holy Worldliness (1980). While the warning against the familiar kind of worldliness is clear enough (e.g. 1 John 2:15), Jesus also called us to a new kind of redemptive worldliness (e.g. John 3:17). Common sense and experience confirm the Bible in telling us we can and should not only appreciate, but fight for truth, beauty, justice and goodness (all of which, we acknowledge, come from God).
He goes on to note how the 'religious right,' while not quite what he had in mind when he encouraged Christian activism, were (and are) in fact finally engaging the wider culture, perhaps out of a sense of desperation as they sense that the very fabric of their 'remnant' way of life was being threatened. He criticizes them, however, for responding to 'complex issues ... [in] the socio-political arena' with mere slogans and proof texts. He cites (from his experience in discussing these issues): Matthew 26:11 'The poor you will always have with you' as seeming to justify complacency in addressing poverty; Matthew 22:21 'Render unto Caesar ...' as if God had simply abandoned large swaths of reality to unchecked secular administration; Romans 13:1 'the authorities have been established by God' as endorsing the status quo; and John 18:36 'my kingdom is not of this world' as a warrant for detachment. On the latter, the author reminds us that the resurrection was illegal, so Jesus clearly did not mean to imply that Caesar could stand in the way of His plans for His kingdom (it originates outside this world, but it clearly affects this world).
He is happy that Christians are at least thinking critically about the status quo, and advises patience (i.e. don't limit options to withdrawal or complete takeover, as has been our tendency, but share the public square, working to promote righteousness, demonstrating God's own patience with His rebellious creation, remembering that full solutions await Christ's return) and humility (Phil. 2:12 work out our salvation with 'fear and trembling') in the task.
In Beyond Complexity, the author quotes SCJ Oliver Wendell Holmes 'I do not give a fig for the simplicity that is prior to complexity; but I would give my right arm for the simplicity that lies beyond complexity' (151). When early simplistic solutions falter, forcing us to question our assumptions, some either fall back into simple-minded credulity (i.e. escapist romanticism), others bog down in endless questioning and suspended belief (i.e. skepticism). The proper response, according to Mouw (and French philosopher Paul Ricoeur, who discussed this common struggle), is to work through the hard questions and arrive at 'a mature rediscovery ... [of] the beliefs that have held up well under critical scrutiny' (151-2).
He again cites Robert Bellah's (et. al.) Habits of the Heart as a great analysis of the weakening of commitment (marriage, family, civic) in recent decades in America. The Sawdust trail encouraged strong commitment, and that was (and is) a good thing. He closes the book by encouraging us to retain our sense of wonder at God's power, love and grace (quoting a final fanfare of hymns).
Bottom line; leaning left politically will eventually and inevitably lead to liberal theology (on the way to unbelief), watering down the fundamentals of the faith (to say nothing of losing our God-inspired American heritage of freedoms). That the leader of Fuller Seminary leans left politically is worrisome for the future effectiveness of Fuller (if not for the future of evangelicalism). Leaving aside his leftist assumptions, do I accept his criticisms of fundamentalism? Hmmm. Some of those criticisms emerge from his leftist perspective. Those I reject. Some of them, however, seem on the mark, particularly the call to abandon anti-intellectualism, otherworldliness and the separatistic spirit (enforced by legalism). In short, I agree with much of his diagnosis of the problems, but not with his prescribed cures.
Perhaps I should elaborate a bit here on my own vision for a more perfect society, based on God's principles (although the reader has probably guessed my perspective by now). It will involve the conservative/libertarian vision of America's founders, emphasizing a free and vibrant civil society within a framework of strictly limited (yes, laissez-faire, 'night-watchman' only, constitutional) government (indeed, seeing government as the primary danger to civil society), personal responsibility, free enterprise, individual liberty and traditional (i.e. Judeo-Christian) values. It will be composed of citizens who are both strong and compassionate, independent and community minded. Proper legal and economic themes for government to enforce are strong property rights, minimal taxes and regulation (i.e. barriers to free enterprise) and a stable currency. I agree with Lord Acton that 'freedom is not merely one goal among many political goals, it is itself the highest political goal.' As long as America stands for these values, count me a strong patriot and in favor of a strong national defense. In my opinion, most Democrats and other political leftists (Christian or not), with their big-government 'solutions,' antibusiness and anti-American attitudes are part of the problem, not the solution.
