Kim Gentes

The argument is made that naming God is never really naming God but only naming our understanding of God. To take our ideas of the divine and hold them as if they correspond to the reality of God is thus to construct a conceptual idol built from the materials of our mind.[1]

Thus launches a compact and insightful book on the Christian church for the postmodern age.  The book is “How (Not) To Speak of God” and is written by Peter Rollins.  This book is a philosophical building block for what is considered a new brand of Christianity- one that places itself beyond Catholic or Protestant confines as a re-invention of the foundational core Christian tenants of faith on a new trajectory than previous “Christian” classes of belief.  As with all belief centered in logic, foundational comprehension and exploration of such belief begins with language.  Rollins begins and fuels much of his book with the clarifying of language in his “emerging church” conversation.  This is done through visiting constructs such as definitions, re-definitions,  syntax (a/theology, a/theist, mis/understood etc) and even ambiguating subject/predicate grammar (God rid me of God[2]).

The purpose of Rollins use of language in this way is to break ground on traditional use of language against which our faith is eventually handcuffed into suppositions that it cannot adequately make it s way free of. As you can see from one of the opening arguments (top), one of the primary points of his re-imagining what it means to talk about God is to re-think about how conceive about him as an object in a sentence. The noun for God, in Rollins logic, is itself rife with our own thoughts about that noun. We name it and believe it in a circular motion, which continues to define who God is by our use of a label-- thus an undefinable God has become something by use of such a label that we cannot be sure he is.

It is with this kind of linguistic and philosophical approach that How (Not) To Speak of God uses to arrive at several points such as the meaning of what it is to be a Christian, what it is to become one, what belief is, reason and its place in belief, influenced observation (Heisenberg principle), ideology as idolatry, revelation as concealment and more.  He then explores many inversions of current orthodox belief such as a/theistic belief- the concept that our deconstruction of edifices about God (what he calls “unknowing”) actual lead us closer to God by removing what we think of God. He says this well:

This a/theistic approach is deeply deconstructive since it always prevents our ideas from scaling the throne of God. Yet it is important to bear in mind that this deconstruction is not destruction, for the questioning it engages in is not designed to undermine God but to affirm God. This method is similar to that practised by the original cynics who, far from being nihilists and relativists, were deeply moral individuals who questioned the ethical conduct they saw around them precisely because they loved morality so much. This a/theism is thus a deeply religious and faith-filled form of cynical discourse, one which captures how faith operates in an oscillation between understanding and unknowing. This unknowing is to be utterly distinguished from an intellectually lazy ignorance, for it is a type of unknowing which arises not from imprecision but rather from deep reflection and sustained meditation.[3]

All of this redefinition is helpful to allow in the inverted /dark side of thought as things which can become a vital part of faith- dis-belief, doubt, longings, sorrow and hunger.  Rollins hopes that his straightforward, though at times over-done, approach allows a more holistic exploration of broad formation of “theology”. His goal is to bring religion back to the ability to build in a orthodoxy of both knowing God and a tradition of self-critique, saying “To be part of the Christian religion is to simultaneously hold that religion lightly.[4]”

Rollins has a target, however, beyond just language and philosophical theological editing.  He leads the reader to a point of both the need for transformation and the need for a desire for transformation[5].  This is an important primer to creating a fresh man/God vacuum expository (Pascalian God-shaped hole: retold) he sets up the focus of need (hunger) that leads his readers to the primacy of Christianity.  For Rollins, the climax of all thought towards God leads self-critiquing people to the core tenant of love, but even that is re-envisioned:

Thus we can never rest easy, believing that we have discovered the foundations that act as a key for working out what we must do in different situations: for the only clear foundation laid down by Jesus was the law of love.[6]

The remainder of the book deals with practical exploration, including several case studies (examples) of gatherings that Rollins and others have designed to help with post modern expression, in the form of art/drama and concept that allow the attendants to enter imaginatively into this process of deconstruction and opportunity for re-envisioning God not as we see him now, but as we are relearning.

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Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Rollins, Peter. “How (Not) to Speak of God”. Kindle Edition (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press 2006), Location 238

[2]Ibid., Location 265

[3]Ibid., Location 642

[4]Ibid., Location 971

[5]Ibid., Location 1054

[6]Ibid., Location 1333

Brian McLaren is lauded by many as the teaching voice of the post-modern movement within Protestantism. He is seen as a rabble-rouser, genius and even heretic. His initial work that sowed much of the love (and angst) for his perspective and his personage is “A Generous Orthodoxy”. In many respects, this book provides an apologetic, not for post-modern methodology, but for pre-modern (or perhaps pre-reformation) church understanding and hopeful unity. Having read the book two complete times (and a 3rd time through spent skimming to wrangle further details), I grew more affectionate towards the book with each time revisiting concepts and chapters.

In its sum, A Generous Orthodoxy attempts to provide a overarching narrative for how the scope of all Christian faith traditions might reach towards one another, finding the good, and enjoining the best from each of the groups into a single conversation that might become one voice of love to a broken world. McLaren is clearly a man with the goal of seeing the larger picture, making it plain to others, and hoping it will inspire deeper thinking and even more profound action.  He performs his work in this book by walking systematically through each tradition, pointing out the various differences in each, while being careful to highlight the beauty God has stored as treasures in each tradition.  McLaren finds this treasure, gathers them together in a warm-hearted banter, and presents a jewel box back to the reader- all with the hope it may be cherished as a whole, not as just the component parts.

In large part, his attempt succeeds. He does point out the beauty of the Eastern tradition, the wisdom of the Catholics, the passion of the Pentecostals and on and on.  He does this, and all the while he challenges the reader to expand the breadth of their generosity to draw near,  sit down, and share a meal with their brothers and sisters in the family  of God.  In actuality, nothing McLaren says is at all new, or even shocking. What makes it surprisingly effective is that he is one of the first to say most of the essential points of recent critical thought on our faith while surveying the breadth of the Christian traditions. The book has a number of poignant moments where it draws on truly cross-denominational understandings of faith, and ways to speak such things that bridge traditions.  One example I enjoyed greatly was:

This is why, for starters, I am a Christian: the image of God conveyed by Jesus as the Son of God, and the image of the universe that resonates with this image of God best fit my deepest experience, best resonate with my deepest intuition, best inspire my deepest hope, and best challenge me to live with what my friend, the late Mike Yaconelli, called “dangerous wonder,” which is the starting point for a generous orthodoxy.[1]

After those points, however, I run out of “generous” else to affirm in A Generous Orthodoxy.  McLaren’s attempt to subvert the barb of division in the global Christian church by generously presenting the best it has to offer fails on two main fronts, which kill the book at its outset and damage its credibility closest the source (the authors own tradition).  First first problem is such a painstaking burp in editorial supervision that his publishing house should fire consider firing their general editor on the spot.

At the outset of the book, McLaren thinks he will forcefully, glibly and extensively chastise his audience before they begin reading the book. He does so by flagellating himself with the scorn of his own self-interest. In the end, it is a terribly failed attempt at asking permission that turns into a childish display of literary rambling.  He turns a one paragraph apology into an entire chapter of ridiculousness. He starts by saying:

You are about to begin an absurd and ridiculous book. Those who like it and those who hate it, those who get it and those who don’t, equally stand in some peril. So some words of warning are required. It is not too late to turn back, as you have not yet reached Chapter 1.[2]

It seems silly and deft. Humorously, he introduces us to his apology for what is to come. But it goes horribly wrong. What bothers me most about McLaren’s approach in the introduction (he calls it chapter 0) is mostly that he tries to absolve himself of any responsibility for the things he says. His jocularity is endearing but the constant effusing of his humble intentions, self-deprecating dismissal of his own efforts, and disclaimers so ridiculous that he clearly takes it that he wants to say whatever he wishes and takes absolutely the tact that his opinions are protected under "I told you so" mentality. It doesn't endear the reader, and it sounds wildly self-serving. From his buttress of denyability that he builds in 4 pre-sections (preface, foreword, introduction and chapter 0), McLaren stands arrogantly above anyone who would dare to question anything he says, making him the least generous of all (of course, he is careful to refute the possibility of anyone refuting his refutability as well). I'd have loved it if he just started saying what he came to say, instead of wasting everyone's time on his own sense of justification (which he absolutely declares everyone else to be steeped in). Not a good start, in my opinion (and of course, he has refuted and disclaimed the right of anyone else’s opinions to be valid as anything more than blabbering next to his fictitiously unimportant text). 

Past the introduction, McLaren’s other major failure is his unashamed disdain for evangelical Christians. He lauds through all traditions, showing small err and lots of grace for the breadth of Christianity. Save the evangelicals.  It seems he hopes that the only ones who will read his book are those he will hope to “change” - the evangelicals. The clear indication is that all evangelicals are the most in need of change and that they have little good ingredients to add to the global soul soup of Christian expression.  I understand McLaren’s broader point- self-criticism is where we must start. We all get it. But McLaren spends an entire book being generous to everyone else, but the evangelicals.  From that perspective, he decides to forgo thinking well of his brother whom he hopes to change (the evangelicals), while speaking kindly to others who might appreciate the warm embrace.  To quote from our leader, “You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.” 

I’d further say that McLaren makes blunders in a few other places that don’t help his case. For example, he says :

If conservative Protestants focus on the way Jesus initially saves individuals by dying on the cross, and Pentecostals focus on the way Jesus continues to save individuals by giving the Holy Spirit, Roman Catholics focus on the way Jesus saves the church by rising from the dead.[3]

Our Catholic family have much to be lauded, but their focus (especially in juxtaposition to the protestants) is more crisply towards the cross, while Protestants has been to Easter and resurrection.  His sub-point dealing specifically with soteriology is fine, but in a book like this, this statement uses the wrong language at an important place, and leaves the wrong impression about two great traditions.

McLaren had a chance to make a book that would rock the Christian world, and actually help all (especially evangelicals) with his warm and hopeful heart. But he fails by alienating the group he seeks to target with his dismissive approach towards his own tradition, and an absolutely abysmal introduction. Amidst a large collection of good thoughts from the author, I feel he misses the mark, when so much more was hoped for.

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Review by Kim Gentes

[1]McLaren, Brian D.. “A Generous Orthodoxy: By celebrating strengths of many traditions in the church (and beyond)”. (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan/Youth Specialties, 2004), Pg. 78

[2]Ibid., Pg. 27

[3]Ibid., Pg. 53