In the process, Jones tries to help emerging churches get beyond their critiques (especially of evangelical Protestantism). He hopes this will lead them to a more substantial theological engagement that just might spark some practical changes in the ways we organise our Christian communities.

For those of you wondering, ‘what on earth is ecclesiology?’, the Wikipedia page on the subject offers a fairly concise overview. Its list of ‘issues addressed by ecclesiology’ is especially helpful. Doug Gay’s recent book on the emerging church is also framed in terms of ecclesiology, which he defines as ‘the Church’s practice of critical theological reflection upon its own practice’ (p.xiv).

For his part, Jones argues for greater engagement with ecclesiology for its own sake. But he also sees engaging with ecclesiology as a practical exercise that will enable emerging churches to refine their own practices in line with what some people might call the movement of the Holy Spirit in the post-modern world.

Both Jones and Gay are responding to a wider sense within emerging churches that their developing practices have been worked out by trial and error, or intuition (or, as others might say, listening to the Holy Spirit), rather than by robust theological reflection.

Jones’ book is self-published, and based on his doctoral work at Princeton Theology Seminary. It is left in the format that is common for a doctoral dissertation. Jones explains that he did not revise the dissertation into a format that would be acceptable for a work of popular theology, because this could delay publication for several years and he was keen to get the ideas out there to be debated.

In fact, some of the material in this book/dissertation has already appeared in Jones’ earlier book The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier (Jossey-Bass 2008). Jones observed and interviewed people in eight different emerging congregations and insights from this work are discussed in both books.

Non-academic readers should not be put off by the prospect of reading a doctoral dissertation, because Jones’ writing is still relatively accessible (although the book does include sentences like: ‘what are the merits of transversal rationality for practical theology?’, p. 177 or ‘this research draws on the principles and methods of phenomenological research, which accords with both the Gadamerian hermeneutic and the transversal methodology discussed in chapter one’, p. 51). But it is not essential to read, for example, the methodological sections of the work which would most likely not have made their way into a work of popular theology.

And readers will benefit from the fact that like any good doctoral dissertation, Jones states his argument in a clear and concise nutshell on the very first page:

‘I will argue that the ECM [emerging church movement] is practising a new form of congregationalism – a “relational ecclesiology,” significant because this burgeoning ecclesiology is not only reflective of the social-media-saturated world in which we now live, but also because it resonates strongly with the ecclesiology proposed by Jurgen Moltmann in the late-twentieth century.’

Jones supports this argument with the in-depth research on the eight emerging congregations. He identifies these congregations’ ‘concrete practices’, including descriptions of how these practices differ from the way they are done in other types of churches:

• Communion
• Worship
• Preaching
• Community (often virtual, online community)

And ‘practices of virtue’ including:

• Hospitality
• Theology
• Creating art
• Living out the Priesthood of all believers
• Cultivating sacred spaces

From this, he builds his case for ‘relational ecclesiology,’ writing (p. 121):

“There is a binding characteristic of all the foregoing practices: these are ultimately practices of relationality. That is, each of these practices has grown out of the fact that, in the emerging church movement, relationality is placed at a premium. By “relationality” I mean the experience of lived relations between human beings, and between human beings and God. By arranging the seating in the round and on couches, the leaders of Solomon’s Porch and Journey are placing relationality at a higher premium than capacity, for each church could seat more people if they opted for a more efficient seating structure. By walking up the center aisle and calling on interlocuters by name, Tim Keel is making clear that voices other than his are also important in the sermon. And by committing to practices of hospitality and a generous view towards other theologies, all of these congregations are vaunting inter-human relationships above doctrinal accuracy or denominational identity.”

Jones’ fourth chapter is a fascinating analysis of how Moltmann’s wider body of work resonates with those core practices, including Moltmann’s work on the social trinity, liberation theology, adult baptism, open communion, the relational (rather than missional?) understanding of church, and the sense that we have entered a millennium of the Holy Spirit.

Jones also argues that the emerging church is heavily influenced by the often competing conceptions of church offered by Moltmann and by Stanley Hauerwas, and urges greater debate on the relative merits and insights of these models.

I suspect that as a practitioner and a popular theologian Jones would be most interested in debate around his ‘Pragmatic Suggestions for a Relational Ecclesiology’ (chapter 5), which include greater and more intentional emphasis on (p. 164):

• Sacralising the world and de-sacralising the church
• Developing egalitarian and democratic approaches to church governance (a sort of congregational approach, in which links between Christian communities may be developed by social media)
• Encouraging interreligious and intra-church relations built on the language of trust
• Promoting dialogical patterns of preaching and teaching

I agree with Jones that these areas require more sustained reflection and think that without this, the emerging church movement will not realise its potential as a prophetic voice to the wider Christian church.

And as we’ve learned from Doug Gay, these are also areas that have been of concern in the wider and especially European ecumenical movement – partners with which emerging Christians have had surprisingly little conversation.

The most serious concern I have with Jones’ book is that it is so American-centric. In particular its historical discussion locates the origins of the ECM exclusively within the American context and does not consider global or even European trends (discussed with great skill in Doug Gay’s book).

Given this American-centric approach, it is perhaps ironic that Jones chooses to analyse the work of Moltmann, the European, in more depth than the work of Hauerwas, the American. On the other hand, the ECM is most numerous in the United States and Jones –as an American Christian – should not be criticised too much for catering to his primary audience.

Gay’s insightful and original treatment of this matter, almost entirely overlooked in the popular and academic literature on the emerging church, is just one reason why this book deserves a wide and careful reading.

Gay is a Lecturer in Practical Theology at the University of Glasgow and a Church of Scotland minister. He has been involved with the development of emerging communities the Late, Late Service and Host, so he writes both as an activist and a scholar, making his theology particularly practical and readable for the non-academic theologians among us.

He describes the book as ‘a provisional attempt to theorize the concept of ‘Emerging Church’, a term which he admits ‘may be … very close to the end … as a useful term for the Church’ (p. xi) He prefers to talk about what he calls ‘the Church: Emerging’ (p. xiii):

I prefer to speak of ‘the Church: Emerging’, as a conscious attempt to re-weight the term towards ecclesiology – the Christian practice of reflecting on the nature and practice of Church.’

I’m not sure that the Church: Emerging is going to catch on – the words just seem clunky to me compared to ‘the emerging church.’

But I can appreciate Gay’s foregrounding of ecclesiology, which he helpfully defines as ‘the Church’s practice of critical theological reflection upon its own practice’ (p.xiv).

And I can understand his exasperation with the ‘debate’ over the emerging church label (he says he is ‘bored … with … the promotion and criticism,’) p. xi. The term also seems to be falling out of favour with some in the movement, as noted in James Bielo’s book Emerging Evangelicals (another on the list to be reviewed on this blog!).

Gay’s treatment of the history of the Church: Emerging, grounded as it is in a UK context, brings something to the table that other studies of the emerging church lack – especially studies which focus on its American expressions.

And what Gay brings is a broader perspective on the context and influences that have contributed to the development of the movement. Like other writers and scholars, Gay correctly sees it as emerging in large part from evangelicalism, or more broadly, Low Church Protestantism (LCP).

In my own research on Ikon, which can be considered a Northern Irish expression of the emerging church, I also have argued that it is emerging from, and therefore critiquing, evangelicalism.

But as I explained in my earlier post, Gay argues that the ecumenical movement also has been significant in this process, helping:

‘to create a context in which low church Protestants … felt freer to critique their own tradition and to experiment with the insights and practices of other Christian traditions.’

Added to this, Gay explores the importance of the charismatic renewal and the liturgical movement, in addition to Vatican II. For him, Vatican II has helped to ease tensions between Catholics and Protestants, again creating a context in which those all-important Low Church Protestants feel more comfortable interacting with the more ancient expressions of the Christian faith.

Gay illustrates this with a Northern Irish-based story on the very first page of the first chapter of the book (‘When Were You Robbed? – Auditing’) about how encounters with the ‘other’ have shaped the Church: Emerging. I can’t resist sharing it (p. 1-2):

… I love the story told by Belfast-based Presbyterian minister and writer Steve Stockman about a cross-community project in which Protestant and Roman Catholic young people visited one another’s places of worship as part of a reconciliation programme of encounter and exchange. The visit to the Roman Catholic chapel having duly taken place, the young people headed off to the Presbyterian church. As they all filed in, one young Catholic boy looked around in surprise and said: ‘When were you robbed?’

… the first stage of emergence was marked by a move I will call ‘auditing’ – a reflexive moment reached within our own development as low church Protestants. As in the Belfast story, this was provoked by experiences and encounters that challenged us to look and listen beyond the limits and boundaries of our own tradition.

Auditing is just one of the five key ‘moves’ that he sees the Church: Emerging undertaking. If I am reading him correctly, Gay interprets these moves as vital to a re-formation of Christian practice and sensibility not all that different from the Reformation (an argument taken up more pointedly in Phyllis Tickle’s The Great Emergence). There is a chapter devoted to each of the five moves, which are:

• Auditing
• Retrieval
• Unbundling
• Supplementing
• Remixing

The chapter on remixing is of course an important one, given that ‘Remixing the Church’ is the title Gay gives his book and it is in this chapter that he ‘ventures a definition’ of the emerging church, which I shared in my earlier post.

What intrigues me about this definition is its emphasis on a DIY-style grassroots ecumenism, which sees the Church: Emerging as ‘… a set of possibilities, which will be performed in very different ways in different locations.’

So ‘Remixing the Church’ means to draw on resources from a rich variety of Christian traditions, in an effort to live more authentically as Christians.

This does not mean that emerging Christians are engaging in syncretism, a watering-down of historic doctrines, or making the church ‘fit’ into a post-modern, relativistic milieu.

As Gay demonstrates expertly in this book, if (as?) the emerging church as we know it disappears, its contribution to global Christianities may be more important than we now think.

Rollins’s stiff sounds clever in the academy, but surely the real test is how it washes with the common woman or man. This was the genius of Christ and his ability to communicate with a Doctor of Divinity Nicodemus and an outcast woman in close succession. I don’t think I would be able to represent Rollins accurately to most of my congregation, but then again, I’m not sure I would want to. He may offer some tasty bites to a certain subgroup of disillusioned and cynical cognoscenti, but I don’t see him offering any “real food”- or hope- to the vast majority of hungry souls we deal with every day.

I can see where Monty is coming from on this point, because I’ve heard others say they found it difficult to grasp his ideas. Once, after Rollins had delivered a public lecture where I work – the Irish School of Ecumenics – one of my master’s students said to me:

‘that was great, but I’m not sure I understood what he said!’

Rollins is a charismatic speaker and enthusiastic about his topics, so I think my student’s comment that the talk was ‘great’, was in some way a response to Rollins’ enthusiasm. I also think it was a response to the many thought-provoking gems that Rollins scatters throughout his talks.

But if you are looking for a three-point sermon, or a set of power point slides that delivers an argument in a sequential, step-by-step format, you won’t get it from Rollins.

And if master’s students, who are relatively firmly embedded in the ‘academy,’ have some difficulty with Rollins, what hope for the rest of us?

In his review of Rollins’ talk at the Black Box in Belfast on Sunday evening, blogger Alan in Belfast (his post includes audio of the talk) makes his lack of understanding a major theme of his post:

It’s difficult to summarise Pete’s talk.

Therein lies a problem. No matter how good his critique of the repeating plot structure of Laurel and Hardy is … and no matter how many broad generalisations are thrown in (“we find a way to domesticate any voice that offends us”, “my thesis is that deep down most of us know that most of it [conventional Christian belief] is a bit rubbish”, “when you love someone you experience them as a universe yet to explore”), I can’t follow the thread of his argument from one end of the talk to the other (nor from one end of a book to the other).

[The honourable exception to this rule is Pete’s book of parables –The Orthodox Heretic: And Other Impossible Tales – which are simple and superb.]

To Pete, my inability to comprehend may be failure.* To me, it’s not. Part of my problem is that single lines float out from Pete’s narrative that make my mind scuttle off to think, losing track of what he goes on to argue in the process. (*Unless he just puts it down to my stupidity.)

Alan in Belfast is of course neither a failure nor stupid – he’s one of the more intelligent bloggers on this island on a range of social, political and religious issues. Alan goes on to write that having your own views challenged, and being forced to think in a different way, are some of the main benefits of trying to engage with Rollins’ work.

I’m an academic social scientist, not a philosopher or a theologian, and I also find Rollins’ work challenging – but in a good way. My series of posts over the last month or so has been my attempt to work out my understanding of what Rollins is saying.

I think I can follow the arguments in Rollins books, though they do vary in their accessibility. Not counting Rollins’ book of parables, which is very accessible, I think his latest, Insurrection, is the most accessible, followed by How (Not) to Speak of God and finally, The Fidelity of Betrayal.

But Rollins’ arguments, both in books and in lectures, are delivered in what might be called a post-modern style – through stories and examples and reflections on philosophical or psycho-analytical ideas. This is not the so-called ‘rational’ step-by-step argumentation that many students or people in the pews listening to sermons, have come to expect.

I think there is a reason behind this, and that is that Rollins’ doesn’t think the world works in such a rational, step-by-step way. His more impressionistic, circular, and perhaps roundabout way of making his points reflects that.

I have a hunch that Rollins doesn’t want us to leave a lecture or finish a book thinking that we have understood everything. He wants us to go away and start thinking more for ourselves.

For me the more serious points raised by Monty and by Alan in Belfast are:

For Monty – whether Rollins’ ideas can give people hope:

He may offer some tasty bites to a certain subgroup of disillusioned and cynical cognoscenti, but I don’t see him offering any “real food”- or hope- to the vast majority of hungry souls we deal with every day.

and for Alan – whether Rollins’ neglects the life and example of Jesus:

Strangely, there’s little talk about encountering Jesus. Other than the cross, Jesus life and example doesn’t get much of a mention.

I can only speak for myself when I say that Rollins’ wider body of work has been helpful for me as a Christian. It’s comforting to know that you are not alone in your critiques of the contemporary churches, including their sins and failures. I think it is inherently hopeful to identify the weaknesses of Christian institutions, as that is the first step in addressing them and changing them for the better.

Rollins’ work has also encouraged me to take more personal responsibility for how I live, as he sees this as more important than working out exactly what you believe.

I would link Rollins’ emphasis in his wider work on how to live, to ‘Jesus’ life and example’. Rollins may not have spoken a lot about ‘Jesus’ life and example’ in his recent talk.

But now that I am pushed to think about it, how to live like Jesus – religion-less Christianity, in the Bonheoffer-inspired term Rollins often uses – seems to me to be one of the major themes of Rollins’ work.

Posts in the Series

The Series that Started the Series

What Troubles you about Peter Rollins? Towards an Assessment Part I

What’s Liberating about Peter Rollins? Towards an Assessment Part II

Do you Identify with Peter Rollins? Towards an Assessment Part III

Is Peter Rollins on a Mission? Towards an Assessment Part IV

The Second Series

Is Peter Rollins a Universalist? – Responding to Monty Part I

Peter Rollins and Being ‘In Christ’ – Responding to Monty Part II

Peter Rollins and the Holy Spirit – Responding to Monty Part III

I recommend you read the full post for yourselves. It covers a lot of ground, from Fischer’s description of the Conflict Transformation module to her thoughts on the hell debate sparked by Rob Bell’s Love Wins.

The Conflict Transformation module features an intensive week at Corrymeela, where Little and Verwoerd guide the students through the process they use with various groups from opposing ‘sides’ in the conflict in and about Northern Ireland (and from other conflicts from around the world).

Fischer sees conflict as an inevitable part of life and she urges those in the emergent conversation to face up to – rather than hide from – it:

I bring this up here, because I see the danger of continuing a bad ‘family’ trait even into this new emergent generation.  I grew up in a non-christian home and a Christian extended family, both of which pretended that if we didn’t talk about conflict, it meant that we didn’t have any;  I studied theology at an inter-denominational college where conflict as a theme in and of itself was never addressed theologically; and I spent years in churches, seminars, conferences, retreats and missions (Evangelical, Charismatic, and Lutheran; in America, Sweden, Australia, PNG and Germany), where, besides an occasional reference to Matthew 18:15-17, and the ever-present lapel to forgive, there was no strategy and no underlying concept for helping their communities deal with conflict constructively.  The cardinal assumption being that good Christians don’t do conflict!

But rather than fostering fraternities exuding peace and justice in the world, this refusal to take conflict head on theologically, exacerbates the friction inevitable in any human plural, and conditions cultures to fester and fracture over matters both profound and piddling.  Of greater consequence even than the personal stories of disillusionment with Christian fellowships that abound, as grim as that is, however, is the general disconnect that many faith communities and institutions have toward complex societal ills, the prolific number of armed conflicts around the world, and trans-global injustices.  With the exception of my brief time in Church of the Savior, DC, of which Sojourners Magazine is a part, nary a mention of these realities in the Christian sub-cultures I’ve experienced in over twenty years!

She sees some of the present debate about hell, whether you agree with Rob Bell or not, as distracting from more important questions in the here and now such as dealing with conflict, and one of its roots, poverty.

As a lecturer, I’m of course pleased to see Fischer making links between one of our modules and debates in the emerging church. The emerging church is one of my current research areas and I’m always looking for connections between what I know from the fields of conflict resolution and reconciliation, and my work on the emerging church.

I’m also intrigued by her observation that Christians have refused to take conflict on theologically, other than issuing some rather glib urgings for victims to ‘forgive’.

This is not a million miles from the argument put forward in the new book about the churches in the Northern Ireland peace process by John Brewer, Gareth Higgins and Francis Teeney: that the churches as institutions didn’t adequately analyse the conflict sociologically or theologically – meaning that they struggled to help transform it.

I look forward to the emerging conversation moving forward on these themes.

The post Monty was responding to was called ‘Is Peter Rollins on a Mission?’ I had characterised Rollins’ approach to mission as ‘anti-conversionism’ and said that I thought some Christians find this approach refreshing, a necessary corrective to the overbearing way in which some Western missionaries spread the faith.

I also noted that Rollins has argued that Christians themselves should be open to being ‘re-evangelised.’ For me the concept of re-evangelisation:

captures the idea that every cross-religious/cultural/ethnic/political/etc encounter can involve an exchange of gifts, rather than an assimilation of one into the other.

Finally, I wrote that Rollins’ vision of the church seems to be one in which “traditional ‘mission’ is rendered superfluous.” Citing Stanley Hauerwas, I said that this is a vision of the church ‘being the church.’

For me, ‘being the church’ is most immediately obvious in actions like caring for the needy and welcoming the stranger. The logic for me is if Christians really live out their faith in this way, Christianity itself becomes so attractive that others will want to be a part of it.

This approach is reminiscent of the quote usually attributed to St Francis:

‘Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.’

The part of Monty’s comment that responded to this most directly is:

By seeing mission purely as sociological and as an exchange of cultural / religious views, [Rollins] ignores the theological (pneumatological) dimension. Could traditional biblical mission not just be seen as the offering of the spiritual gift of life through Christ by one person to another in the power of the Spirit of grace and love? Why do we always have to imply that the cultural imperialistic interpretation is the right one?

I don’t think Rollins’ wider body of work sees mission as purely sociological or as an exchange of views. But the wider emerging church’s emphasis on ‘conversation’ can give the impression that the movement is endlessly and hopelessly dialogical.

Given the brevity of Monty’s post – which he says that he wrote quickly so it would be unfair to criticise him for this – it is not possible to know exactly what he means by ‘traditional biblical mission.’

There are a number of methods or approaches that could be considered traditional biblical mission, such as:

• Preaching in the streets – Jesus’ disciples got this honoured method going, and it has a long tradition in church history, including 18^th century evangelists such as John Wesley and George Whitefield and later outdoor stadium-fillers like Billy Graham
• The preaching done in gospel halls and tent missions, so familiar in Protestant parts of Northern Ireland and in the American South, that emphasises the need to be ‘saved’ or ‘born again’
• Traditional catechismal approaches to religious education, as practiced by the Roman Catholic Church and some Protestant denominations

I think it’s safe to say that Rollins (and others within the emerging church movement) are reacting against a brand of ‘conversionism’ (if I can call it that) which is prominent in both Northern Irish and American evangelicalism.

This ‘brand’ is a threatening, fire-brand type of conversionism that declares ‘ye must be born again’, urging sinners to repent or face hell-fire. The way that many in the emerging church movement see this type of conversionism is exemplified in Rob Bell’s Love Wins, in which he describes himself as appalled by a Christian’s proclamation that Gandhi was at that moment in hell (p. 2-3), and chilled by the photograph of a painting hanging in his grandmother’s house (p. 20-21). Bell’s description of the painting is:

… in the center of the picture is a massive cross, big enough for people to walk on. It hangs suspended in space, floating above an ominous red and black realm that threatens to swallow up whoever takes a wrong step. The people in the picture walking on the cross are clearly headed somewhere – and that somewhere is a city. A gleaming, bright city with a wall around it and lots of sunshine.

Rollins’ satirical Chick tract, ‘The Rapture,’ also critiques this type of conversionism. You can watch a video version of  ‘The Rapture’ here.

Indeed, there are good reasons for the emerging church movement to react against this form of conversionism. For instance, its proponents tend to focus on ‘getting people saved’ at the expense of helping them to live as Christ after this happens. I’m not saying Monty would fall into this category.

Rather, my point is that I don’t think you can understand Rollins, or the wider emerging church movement, without grasping that most people involved in it are almost always at some level critiquing this type of evangelism.

They think that it does not really work, and in its worst forms they see it as inhumane, psychological manipulation.

But Monty raises another interesting point in this comment – about the role of the Spirit (or its lack of a role) in Rollins’ work.

He asks:

• Could traditional biblical mission not just be seen as the offering of the spiritual gift of life through Christ by one person to another in the power of the Spirit of grace and love?
• Why do we always have to imply that the cultural imperialistic interpretation is the right one?

There are of course historical examples of people and communities converting to Christianity, even in the face of the cruellest treatment by those ‘preaching the gospel.’

American historian Mark Noll, writing about the conversion of African slaves in the American colonies, unapologetically says the Holy Spirit must have played a role in this. Noll sees the Holy Spirit at work despite the actions of missionaries – hardly a ringing endorsement – and a warning to Christians today.

But we also have to consider the more positive spin that is implied by Monty’s question – that some, indeed many missionaries, offer ‘the spiritual gift of life through Christ by one person to another in the power of the Spirit of grace and love’ – without any cultural imperialism thrown in.

Monty’s questions have clarified for me that Rollins is indeed fairly ‘light’ on the Holy Spirit. From my reading of his wider body of work there is not much (obvious) place for the Holy Spirit in it at all – save perhaps in his earlier work (such as How (Not) to Speak of God, where God at times seems hyper-present in a mystical, spiritual way). I am willing to be corrected on this by other readers who have a different take.

In fact in his later work I think Rollins is more influenced by psychoanalysis, raising questions about how we can fool or delude ourselves in our so-called experiences of or encounters with God.

I don’t think an examination of psychoanalysis necessarily has to ‘push out’ the Holy Spirit, but it means a lot of questions about the Holy Spirit just don’t get raised.

And given that in our day the fastest-growing expression of Christianity is the ‘Spirit-filled’ Pentecostal and charismatic forms dominant in the global south, Monty’s point about the lack of a role for the Holy Spirit (in mission and more widely) is an interesting observation. It raises questions about how the emerging church movement might fit into this wider context.

My own hunch, based on my observations and reading, is that there are connections between the development of charismatic Christianity and the emerging church. These just needed to be teased out further.

I close with a few quick examples which point me in the direction of connection:

• In my own research on Northern Irish evangelicalism, I vividly remember interviewing a person involved with Ikon who had come from a charismatic background. He said that for him, in this form of Christianity you were expected to ‘experience God by falling over on the ground, and if you didn’t do this, something was wrong with you.’ His participation in Ikon was away to experience God without that pressure.
• In Gibbs and Bolger’s book, Emerging Churches: Creating Christian Communities in Postmodern Cultures, Rollins is interviewed about his Christian journey. He relates how he also was previously involved in a charismatic church, sharing a story about how his own conversion (if we may call it that!) was linked to the prayers of people in the church.
• In his new book, Naked Spirituality, Brian McLaren also shares his own charismatic experiences of the Holy Spirit – which he often seems to remember fondly and in a positive light.

(Image from Peter Rollins’ ‘The Rapture’)

Helpfully, Peter Rollins commented on that post. His comment saved me from further speculation about why he decided to include ‘Christian’ and ‘non-Christian’ in his re-working of Galatians 3:28. For those of you who may not have caught the comment, Rollins wrote, in part:

Very quickly I thought I would try and answer why I use “Christian and non-Christian” in this reflection on Galatians. Basically I am putting it to work in our present context. I am saying that Paul referred to the six basic tribal groups of his day (2 political, 2 religious, 2 biological). These defined who you could talk to, when you could talk to them, what work you did, how you saw the world etc. etc.

The point I am making is that Christianity, for Paul, was not a tribal identify but rather that which cut through tribal identities (remember his famous definition of Christians as trash – i.e. as that which is placed outside). But Christianity is now simply another tribal identity in the actually existing church (with its own worldview etc.).

As a tribal identity Christianity itself now becomes a stumbling block to the non-identity of Christ (the Crucifixion being the loss of identity – political, religious and cultural)

I don’t know if Monty – or others – would agree with Rollins’ concept of the ‘non-identity of Christ,’ as a loss of all identities. But I’m glad that the post prompted Rollins to make a fuller explanation. Thanks Pete!

Now, I turn to the next concern Monty identified in his original comment. For me, this concern revolves around:

Being ‘In Christ’

… [Rollins’] concern for anti-conversionism or doing away with the ‘us and them’ will have great difficulty coming to terms with the numerous “exclusivist passages” in the NT, not least those uttered by Christ himself. To me the NT’s position is best described as a totally inclusive-exclusivism. That is: there is universal access- regardless of all the “walls/definitions/categories” we erect or define people by – to the exclusivist position of being “in Christ”.

In a curious way I think this part of Monty’s comment comes close to sounding like Rollins. For example, when Monty says ‘there is universal access- regardless of all the “walls/definitions/categories” we erect or define people by’ it sounds similar to Rollins’ comment when he defined what sort of ‘universalist’ he considers himself to be:

Rather I am a universalist in the sense that I think Paul is saying that a universal characteristic of human being is that we transcend our identities. That we exist outside them while participating in them (a gentile while not being a gentile etc.). This creates a new inside and outside and I am all for that! What separates the people written about by Paul and others is that the former let go of their identity (holding it lightly) while others do not.

It could be debated how close Rollins’ description of people ‘letting go of their identity’ is to Monty’s point about ‘universal access.’ If I am reading Monty correctly, I think he’s saying that it doesn’t matter how human beings label, define, or identify each other – identity in Christ transcends all that. Rollins might say that ‘non-identity in Christ transcends all that,’ but now maybe I am the one playing with words!

I think the crux of the matter comes down to what it means to be ‘in Christ.’ That’s the final, and crucial, part of Monty’s sentence: to the exclusivist position of being “in Christ”.

Going back to my discussion of Galatians 3:26-27 in the previous post, and given that Rollins invoked that Scripture as the context of his rewriting of Galatians 3:28, it is plausible that being ‘in Christ’ would include the following:

‘You are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.’

Faith, Baptism and Clothing yourselves with Christ … how do we understand those three things?

I obviously can’t say how either Monty or Rollins would define being ‘in Christ.’ But I can offer some brief thoughts on those three matters, including my interpretation of how people in the emerging church movement are thinking around those three areas – and thus where there may be points of friction with historic expressions of Christianity.

Faith:

The people who have built our historic Christian institutions have, of course, done some heavy lifting in the last 2000 years to identify the content of Christian faith. Christians don’t always agree on how to define their faith, hence the various creeds, confessions, catechisms and so forth, based on their readings of Scripture, and in some cases their interpretations of Tradition.

In this passage of Galatians, the ‘faith in Christ Jesus’ could also be read as something less cerebral and codified – the faith that John Wesley had when he felt his heart ‘strangely warmed.’

People associated with the emerging church, have challenged some of the historical definitions of faith. They have argued that creeds and the constant striving to achieve ‘right belief’ have somehow stunted Christian development in other areas.

I think it’s worth asking ourselves if that is a fair critique?

Baptism:

People in our historic Christian institutions have spent 2000 years baptising people in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Christians don’t always agree on who should be baptized (Infants? Adults?) or how (Sprinkling? Immersion?).

For me baptism has always symbolised the change from ‘old’ to ‘new’ that is implied in becoming a Christian – an enactment of being ‘born again’, really, and therefore committing to living in a new and better way.

I don’t think emerging Christians have had much to say about baptism (unless I’ve missed it?). But they have plenty to say about living in a new and better way (see next section below).

Clothing Yourselves with Christ:

This is an interesting phrase, and I’m a social scientist – not a biblical scholar – so my reading of it is very much as a lay Christian. To me, it is a phrase about how to live, and it urges us to follow Christ’s example (whatever that means in 21^st century Ireland!).

Much of the emerging church’s critique of the historical Christian denominations is that they have lost the vision of how to live like Christ, focusing instead on narrow political agendas (identifying the cause of Christ with the cause of their particular tribe or nation), withdrawing to a comfortable pietism, and ignoring the poor, the marginalised and the excluded – and the social and political structures that keep people poor, marginalised and excluded.

Again, I think that’s worth asking – is that a fair critique?

Christians who identify with the historic denominations and emerging Christians share a lot of common ground and can have a lot of fruitful conversations around those three areas, but that still doesn’t answer the questions that I suspect are behind Monty’s concern. Those questions are:

• Does Rollins’ inclusion of Christian/Non-Christian in his rewriting of Galatians 3:28 mean that Non-Christians are just as capable as Christians (the card-carrying, creed-reciting, baptized members of our institutions) of ‘clothing’ themselves with Christ?
• And if that’s the case, do we really need the churches anymore?

I realise that this post has raised more questions and provided few answers. My apologies to anyone who may have been looking for answers!

And there is still more food for thought in Monty’s comment, which I hope to explore further soon …

I’ve written previously on this blog about the Belfast City Marathon, and some other matters around spirituality and sport. For me, running has always been a way to attain good health and mental alertness, relieve stress, stay fit, and on occasion achieve that quiet state that I believe is akin to meditative prayer.

I’m delighted to be a running ambassador for the Northern Ireland Children’s Hospice, which cares for more than 250 Children and young people with life-limiting and life threatening conditions. Their services are available 24 hours a day, every day of the year and there is no charge.

The Hospice needs to raise £5 million every year to stay in operation. It literally could not function without donations from the public.

I can’t think of a better reason to get out on the roads – even now in the coldest part of our winter – to train in support this cause.

Marty and I would really appreciate any donations you can make, using our dedicated website (please click here).

On our site, we’ll keep you updated about our running plans. That includes my next marathon – on January 15, 2012 in Houston – and our plans for participation in the Belfast City Marathon on May 7, 2012.

You might also consider signing up to run the Belfast City Marathon yourself, in aid of the Hospice! There’s more information about running the distance for the Hospice here.

That’s a question posed this week by Jon Hatch in the Church of Ireland Gazette (16 December), which features his front-page story on the ‘Occupy’ movement’s priorities.

Hatch’s article is based on a talk he delivered recently for The Churches in Ireland’s Church in Society Forum.

Hatch is a doctoral candidate where I work, the Irish School of Ecumenics. He has also been a resource developer for groups like Corrymeela and the Irish Peace Centres.

When the Occupy movement’s London protest settled down at St Paul’s, I couldn’t help but think it was the perfect location for the protesters to tap into Jesus’ radical message about challenging the rich who unjustly oppress the poor.

Apart from the Pharisees (the self-righteous religious virtuosos of their day), Jesus was most critical of the rich who rigged the rules of the economic game so that the poor stayed poor and the rich and powerful got ever more rich and more powerful.

I’ve been disappointed by the difficulties that the Church of England has had in accommodating the protesters, especially when I see so many resonances between their message and Jesus’ intensely political messages about economic injustice.

I recommend you get your hands on a copy of the Gazette to read the full story (or subscribe online for just £20 per year).

Hatch’s article offers a short explanation of the Occupy movement’s claims, followed by some theological reflection on what ‘a rigorous, public theology might look like in the midst of the Occupy movement.’

Hatch says Occupy’s four claims are:

• Democracy is eroding
• The ‘rules’ don’t apply equally to everyone
• Global markets exert too much power over people’s lives
• The situation is getting worse, not better

To conclude, I’ll quote quite liberally from Hatch’s theological reflection, which I think provides some valuable insights:

First … God identifies himself as deeply concerned with justice, peace and equitable economies (Proverbs 11:1; Hosea 12:7; Amos 8:5).

In a world where some lives seem more valuable than others, the people of faith can unequivocally declare the absolute, basic, intrinsic value of every human in the eyes of God. We can say this in a very unique way and we need to be saying it as publicly as possible, at every opportunity. It literally underpins everything else we believe.

Second … the people of faith begin from a place that affirms that all ‘space’ is God’s; there is no place that he does not already occupy (Psalm 24:1; Psalm 139: 7-12) and we are his stewards …

Third … neither the State nor the markets have any rights over life and death. Neither has the right to devastate livelihood and ruin economies. We must not bow or make the sacrifices they demand. This was the witness of the earliest martyrs of our faith.

Lastly, there is hope. We must always and everywhere, as Christ did, proclaim as publicly and as openly as possible the good news of the Kingdom of God: life, equity, peace, justice, freedom and generosity.’

Given that the comment appeared a few days after the post, and therefore may have been overlooked by readers, I’d like to bring this discussion back into the main body of the blog and consider some of his points.

Today I’ll consider Monty’s perspective on Rollins’ appropriation of Galatians 3:26-28, and whether this makes Rollins a universalist. First, I’ll quote from Monty’s response:

“I think the philosophical bankruptcy of Rollins’s deconstructionism can be seen most plainly in the quote below. Can someone explain to me how- at any level – the following makes sense?

“You are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither … Christian nor non-Christian, for all are made one in Christ Jesus.”

Does the conditional nature of the first sentence not negate his second sentence? At one level this is warmed up classic universalism, at another level it is playing games with words- something Rollins is usually adamantly against.”

Yes, I can see how the conditional nature of the first sentence seems to negate the second sentence, which Monty does not reproduce in full, most likely because of its length. The full quote is here:

You are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither high church nor low church, Fox nor CNN, citizen nor alien, capitalist nor communist, gay nor straight, beautiful nor ugly, East nor West, theist nor atheist, Israel nor Palestine, hawk nor dove, American nor Iraqi, married nor divorced, uptown nor downtown, terrorist nor freedom fighter, paedophile nor loving parent, priest nor prophet, fame nor obscurity, Christian nor non-Christian, for all are made one in Christ Jesus.

The impact of what Rollins is trying to get across is more obvious in the full quote, where traditional ‘enemies’ are juxtaposed with each other in an effort to illustrate how Christ has broken down the dividing walls between them.

Rollins wrote this in the spirit of Galatians 3:28, which I think he is playing with. Ever the promoter of the parable, Rollins has built much of his work around playing with stories and words. So I disagree with Monty that Rollins is always against playing with words.

I think Rollins’ rewriting of Galatians 3:28 works primarily as a device to get Christians to think about our own prejudices against other groups and to ask ourselves if we are treating them as Christ would.

But Monty is most concerned with the ‘Christian nor non-Christian’ contrast, and quite rightly so, given the nature of Rollins’ appropriation of Galatians 3:26-17:

‘You are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.’

It does raise fundamental questions about Rollins’ use of this scripture, especially because the writer of Galatians specifically mentions ‘faith in Christ Jesus’ and being ‘baptized into Christ.’

So what does it mean when Rollins includes Christian and non-Christian in his list of former enemies?

• To Monty, and certainly others, Rollins’ inclusion of non-Christian in this list just makes no sense. I can certainly understand this perspective.
• To others, Rollins’ inclusion of non-Christian in this list may seem radically open and encouraging, a recommendation that the church itself should be open to those who directly and explicitly identify as ‘non-Christian.’ Rollins does seem to be implying that the church should not be trying to change non-Christians, it should not be trying to ‘convert’ them. Rather, he advocates welcoming all into a ‘suspended space’ where people can encounter each other beyond the social, political and religious categories we normally box each other into.
• To still others, Rollins’ inclusion of non-Christian in this list may seem imperialistic. After all, why would non-Christians want to be included in this list? Isn’t it rather arrogant of a Christian writer to assume that they do?

I have sympathy for all three of the positions I have outlined above. It certainly would have made it easier to ‘explain’ this quote to Monty – and others – if Rollins had not included the quotation from Galatians 3:26-27. Just verse 28 on its own, even acknowledging that it was somewhat taken out of context for interpretative purposes, could have made his point effectively.

So why did Rollins quote Galatians 3:26-27, and then include Christian and non-Christian in the list?

The best explanation I can muster is that I suspect Rollins is indeed ‘playing games’ with this scripture, in an attempt to get us to ask ourselves how far we are willing to go in our inclusion of the ‘other’ in ourselves.

I don’t think this necessarily makes it ‘warmed up classic universalism’, as Rollins’ wider body of work does not support this position.

Monty raises some other points in his comment, which I hope to consider later in the week.

(Image: from Peter Rollins’ Insurrection Tour)

Aldous is writing his master’s dissertation about the work of Peter Rollins and asked for comment around four questions:

1. What troubles you most about Rollins’ work or ideas?
2. What do you find most liberating or freeing about his writing/thoughts?
3. How much do you identify with his work personally?
4. Please comment on negative or positive missiological concerns that you feel Rollins provokes. What do you make of Rollins’ typical deconstructive notion that, ‘evangelism should be a powerless approach that breaks down the them and us thus creating space to become re-evangelised.’

The fourth question is:

Please comment on negative or positive missiological concerns that you feel Rollins provokes. What do you make of Rollins’ typical deconstructive notion that, ‘evangelism should be a powerless approach that breaks down the them and us thus creating space to become re-evangelised.’

In my first post, I wrote that I could understand how some Christians are troubled by Rollins’ approach to mission, which I called anti-conversionism. On the other hand, I am sure some Christians find this approach refreshing, a necessary corrective to the overbearing way in which some Western missionaries spread the faith. I also think this approach is refreshing, to an extent.

I also wrote that I do have some concerns about what Rollins’ ideas, if taken to their most extreme conclusion, could mean for the institutions of our existing churches.

I am as much disillusioned with the ‘institutional church’ as the next disillusioned Christian, but as a social scientist I also see some value in institutions for ‘getting things done.’ I instinctively like the idea of an institutional-less Christianity but I am not sure that it would actually work!

An important insight embedded in the quote Aldous provided above is that the missionary (if that is the correct term) is also open to becoming re-evangelised. This captures the idea that every cross-religious/cultural/ethnic/political/etc encounter can involve an exchange of gifts, rather than an assimilation of one into the other.

Rollins often returns to the passage from Galatians 3:28: There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

He has rewritten it this way:

You are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither high church nor low church, Fox nor CNN, citizen nor alien, capitalist nor communist, gay nor straight, beautiful nor ugly, East nor West, theist nor atheist, Israel nor Palestine, hawk nor dove, American nor Iraqi, married nor divorced, uptown nor downtown, terrorist nor freedom fighter, paedophile nor loving parent, priest nor prophet, fame nor obscurity, Christian nor non-Christian, for all are made one in Christ Jesus.

And he says that ‘…One of the fundamental gifts that the nascent movement called emergent has to offer the wider church’ is being a place:

“… in which we theatrically divest ourselves of our various identities, we allow for the possibility of encountering others beyond the categories that usually define them. We encounter the other beyond the colour of their eyes, beyond the contours of their political and religious commitments…”

This is a church that breaks down all barriers and the power relationships that sustain them. It favours a relationship-centred approach in which the church is already open to all.

In such a church, traditional ‘mission’ is rendered superfluous.

This is certainly an idealistic vision and one that resonates with the theme of my blog, ‘building a church without walls,’ which I describe this way: 

“For me the ‘church’ is people from all backgrounds working together, no matter their denominational loyalty, to break down walls of social, political, and spiritual division and to build up something better – a more just and loving world for us to live in.

I think that many, if not most, of our Western church institutions are broken and not up to this task. I think our best hope lies in people realising that we are the church, and reforming or replacing those institutions. This is not just a task for clergy and pastors; it is for all of us.”

It follows from this that the best form of mission is simply being the church – a model of peaceful, loving community that the rest of society can see (an idea I am stealing from Stanley Hauerwas). This is a church so compelling that others cannot help but be attracted to it. I think this is the kind of church Rollins is seeking.

(image sourced on flickr photo-sharing, by bec.w and used previously in the post explaining the launch of ‘building a church without walls’)