thinking mission

fear of compromise

I ended my previous post on this blog  by suggesting that a second fear that some Christians have concerning interfaith dialogue is that such engagement results in compromising the faith, dodging the hard issues, or settling for a lowest common denominator between Christianity and other faiths.

No doubt there are times when this has been, or is, true.  But the renewed emphasis on engaging with other faiths that is evident these days, especially from within the evangelical world, has brought with it a dynamic which may not have been so noticeable in past years. 

The need of the hour is for a courageous engagement of people from different faiths.  This does not mean combative, but it does mean frank and honest. 

A good example of this was the publication recently of “A Common Word - Muslims and Christians on Loving God and Neighbour.”   For those unaware of the original document on which this book is based, you can read it here at the 'Common Word' website . And amongst the hundreds of responses received, that which came from the Baptist World Alliance which can be viewed here was exemplary in its courtesy, its appreciation and yet also its honesty concerning the many major differences between Christianity and Islam.

The book “A Common Word – Muslims and Christians on loving God and Neighbour” is edited by HRH Prince Ghazi of Jordan, Miroslav Volf from Yale Divinity School and Melissa Yarrington, also from Yale and is one of the first systematic theological explorations of the issues that A Common Word” has evoked. 

The approach the book takes is in keeping with the robust nature of contemporary engagement.  Take this extract from Prince Ghazi –

“A Common Word does not signal that Muslims are prepared to deviate from, or concede one iota of, any of their convictions in order to reach out to Christians – and we expect the reverse is also true… neither does (it) mean Muslims are going to facilitate foreign “evangelism opportunities” in the Islamic world in the name of “freedom of religion.” (p11)

No room for slushy sentiment there. Nor when Volf himself reflects on the dialogue that A Common Word has made possible, and especially doctrines such as the Trinity and Christ’s atoning death:

“Significant agreement on love of God and neighbour does not erase these undeniable, deep and consequential differences.”  He goes on to mention ‘practical problems causing tensions’ between communities, and cites specifically “persecution and lack of full religious freedom, problems concerning evangelism… and many others”. (p21)

So this engagement is one which entertains few illusions. Mistakes may be made along the way, but the need of the hour is for God’s people to engage in brave theology. 

A brave theology -

–  will recognise in this moment in history the need for Christianity and Islam especially to find a way of co-existing peaceably (blessed are the peacemakers) while staying true to our religious convictions 

– will look to build interfaith relationships because only in the context of relationships can hard things be said to those to whom you have been willing to listen deeply, and hard things be heard from those who likewise have listened deeply to you. 

– will recognise that the biblical injunction to love our neighbour means, in this situation, the risk of sitting down and talking, not with people of no faith (which characterises most expressions of outreach), but with people of strong faith, a people for whom, if we are honest, we sometimes entertain both fear and suspicion in our hearts.

One of the most challenging chapters in the book is from Martin Accad, a good friend of BMS through our partnership with Lebanese Baptists and the Arab Baptist Theological Seminary  where he is based. 

In exploring what Jesus meant by 'love your neighbour' Martin helpfully reminds us (pp157-160) that in the Old Testament this primarily meant “Love the strangers living among you” (Leviticus 19:34) and the familiar command of course was “Love your neighbour as yourself”, in effect a call to be hospitable. (Lev 19:18)

When Jesus was asked “who is my neighbour” he radically extended the definition of neighbour to include those who were the archenemies of the Jews, namely the Samaritans (Luke 10:30ff) hence it was logical, but controversial, for Jesus also to add the injunction “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44) Martin is not implying that Muslims are the enemy, but he is helping us to see how radical 'love your neighbour' must be.

None of this is easy.  In most Muslim-majority countries there are far less freedoms than Muslims enjoy elsewhere in the world, not least in Judaeo-Christian cultures like the UK.  I see the growth of Islam in the west and I worry deeply for our Christian heritage which is being eroded.  I hear hostile comments from hostile Muslims and dont easily hear the voices of those more moderate.  I recognise ‘fear and suspicion’ as emotions that sometimes describe how I feel and I am not blind to seeing that it is but a short step further to seeing Muslims as my enemy. 

That is not the road I wish to travel. There is an alternative.

David Kerrigan

 

of prose, poetry and preaching

For all the wonder of modern technology, with its immediacy and convenience, its mix of word and image, nothing comes close to the sheer beauty of a book.  I won’t even say ‘the humble book’ because books should be proud of all they have contributed to enabling women and men and children to learn and grow, express emotions and  feel them, test out ideas that seem worthy, and destroy those whose acceptance would diminish what it means to be fully human.

Books are objects of beauty too.  Book covers alone are as rich with potential as an artist’s canvas.  The pages even lend themselves effortlessly to the reader making margin notes, drawings, exclamation marks and underlines, a language all of its own! The slowly yellowing pages reminiscent of a good wine ageing gracefully.  And the wonderful smells, from the chemical pungency of inks fresh from the press to the musty whiff of darkened libraries – O such sweet perfume!

But books are worthless without a reader, and we readers are as varied as the objects of our desire.   I’m sure I’m not alone in finding it impossible to read one book at a time, unless its a novel when I’m more likely to ration myself to one.  But for non-fiction, 2-3 books at a time is the norm.  One by the bed, one in the living room, one in my bag and so on.

And in this chemistry between writer and reader, there is the limitless possibility of mysterious encounter. 

But when we consider the Bible there is a third dimension.  There is Word, there is Reader (or Listener), but there is also Interpreter.  

Which brings me to one of my current books, one that’s been on my shelves for over 10 years until I realised last week that I’d never finished reading it!  "Finally Comes the Poet - Daring speech for proclamation"  by Walter Brueggemann challenges those of us who preach to recognise our calling to be poets in a world of prose. 

He reminds us in a mouth-watering introduction that “the gospel is too readily heard and taken for granted, as though it contained no unsettling news and no unwelcome threat. What began as news... is easily assumed, slotted, and conveniently dismissed. We depart having heard, but without noticing the urge to transformation that is not readily compatible with our comfortable believing that asks little and receives less.

The gospel is thus a truth widely held, but a truth greatly reduced. It is a truth that has been flattened, trivialized, and rendered inane. Partly, the gospel is simply an old habit among us, neither valued nor questioned. But more than that, our technical way of thinking reduces mystery to problem, transforms assurance into certitude, revises quality into quantity, and so takes the categories of biblical faith and represents them in manageable shapes”.

Later he adds “To address the issue of a truth greatly reduced requires us to be poets that speak against a prose world...  By prose I refer to a world that is organized in settled formulae so that even pastoral prayers and love letters sound like memos.   By poetry, I do not mean rhyme, rhythm or meter but... language that moves, that... jumps  at the right moment, that breaks open old worlds with surprise, abrasion and pace. Poetic speech is the only proclamation worth doing in a situation of reductionism, the only proclamation, I submit, worthy of the name ‘preaching’.  

Such preaching is not moral instruction or problem solving or doctrinal clarification. It is not good advice, nor is it romantic caressing, nor is it a soothing good humour.  It is, rather, the ready, steady, surprising proposal that the real world in which God invites us to live is not the one made available by the rulers of this age.

The preacher has an awesome opportunity to offer an evangelical world... shaped by the news of the gospel.  This offer requires special care for words, because the baptized community awaits speech in order to be a faithful people. 

The Bible is our firm guarantee that in a world of technological naïveté and ideological reductionism, prophetic construals of another world are still possible, still worth doing, still longingly received by those who live at the edge of despair, resignation, and conformity.  Our preferred language is to call such speech prophetic, but we might also term it poetic. p 1-4

I haven’t finished it yet but I am reminded again of the wonderful gift of books, the privilege of being a reader, and in the case of God’s Word, the responsibility to be a poet!

David Kerrigan

the kingdom of God and the mission of the church

Based on the book “Landmark Essays in Mission and World Christianity” (Orbis Books 2009) this is the first in a series of reflections on key writings that have shaped mission thinking over the last seventy years.

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Peter Phan is a Vietnamese-American Catholic with a wealth of insights into the way the church is Asia will develop in the coming decades. In his contribution to “Landmark Essays” (A New Christianity, but What Kind? first published in 2005) he argues that the phenomenon we know as Christendom was and is an aberration of what God wants the church to be.  Rather than a church shaped by the life and ministry of Jesus, what emerged is a model of Christianity that is “papal, roman, legalistic, political and military, in short, Christendom.”  Evidently, this is a distinctively Catholic interpretation but the power dynamics inherent in the world Church today, and which influence all of us to some degree, have their roots in Catholic history, which is our history too.

Phan argues that this Christendom reached its peak in the middle ages where the authority of the pope formally superseded all earthly powers, but in the centuries that followed it emerged again and again, not least in the conquests of the so-called new world. According to Phan, Christendom was ultimately halted by a realisation that “Christendom is not Christianity and has nothing to do with Jesus and his Gospel’.  This realisation was brought about in large measure by printing press and Reformation.

Phan does not believe we will see a new Christendom emerge in the Global South, but strongly believes the Global North should not crave after that which has been lost and is being lost. In that respect he suggests that Philip Jenkins’ “The New Christendom” is flawed – for Jenkins uses Christendom models of interpretation that Phan says are simply not going to be repeated in the south. Jenkins argues that the rise of Christian consciousness in Africa and Latin America particularly, and with it the ‘declining autonomy for nation-states’ in these regions means that Christians will seek alliances across continental boundaries. “Once that axis is established, we really would be speaking of a new Christendom, based on the Southern Hemisphere.”  He speaks of the ‘not unlikely’ possibility of this new Christendom coming into conflict with Islam, bringing about a new age of Christian Crusades and Muslim Jihads, only this time with nuclear warheads and anthrax. Apocalyptic stuff, but deeply flawed, says Phan.

Drawing on documents issued by the Asian Catholic Bishops Conference and others, Phan suggests that the trajectory of Asian Christianity is not towards a powerful Church-centred Kingdom but a more authentic Kingdom-centred Church.  And by implication, this is what Christianity should be if it remains faithful to Jesus.  This analysis is striking in its implications!

A church that is Kingdom-centred (regnocentric) and not church-centred (ecclesiocentric) is one that seeks and promotes Kingdom values.  And to answer the question ‘what are Kingdom values?’ Phan points to the parables and miracles of Jesus, and to the cross and resurrection. “The reign of God is nothing less than God’s saving presence in Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit, a presence that brings about gratuitous forgiveness and reconciliation, and restores universal justice and peace between God and humanity, among humans themselves and between humanity and the cosmos.”

Phan argues that these gifts of forgiveness, reconciliation, justice and peace are extended to all but preferentially to the poor. An authentic church he says, will put the poor first and not “its membership expansion, prosperity, its survival, its good reputation, or what has been euphemistically called ‘church growth’.”

Phan’s analysis is not without its flaws.  For instance, in his reaction against the power of the church he pleads for a ‘fundamental equality among all the members” yet states that this equality “annuls neither the existence of the hierarchy in the church or the papal primacy”.  This is somewhat over-generous in my view, and seems to betray a fear of the very powers that he wishes to challenge!

But the main issue here is the focus on what it means to be a Kingdom-centred Church, or a Kingdom-centred people.  For British Baptists, I don’t think this is necessarily a new, or a revolutionary concept.  But is there a gap between theory and practice?  Let me offer just two questions that might be pertinent for Baptist life and mission, in and beyond the UK.

1.   In the run up to the millennium, mission agencies were challenged to consider how much of our work was in parts of the world that already had a considerable Christian presence, and how much was in parts of the world less-reached?  Within BMS, this certainly was part of the reason why the decision was taken to wind down our work in Brazil and refocus into the Muslim-majority world.  Does a similar question need to be asked by our churches – how much of the life of the church is truly ‘kingdom building’ rather than simply supporting the felt needs of the already Christian congregation. 

2.   Within BMS, the sharper question for us must be ‘and how do we measure the kingdom impact we feel we are achieving?’  We have rejected crude measures like ‘how many baptisms happen in a year’ as these deny the holistic nature of God's Kingdom and in any case would give a zero value to our work in countries where there is still no visible community of believers. But the question remains, how are we to be sure we are having a Kingdom impact?  Can grace, forgiveness and justice be measured?  And if so, how?

David Kerrigan