The Institute for Cultural Engagement, an official program of Multnomah University and Biblical Seminary
Author: Paul Louis Metzger
Dr. Paul Louis Metzger is the Founder and Director of The Institute for the Theology of Culture: New Wine, New Wineskins. He serves as New Wine's catalyst for cultivating a community of people brought together around a shared vision of bearing witness to Christ in contemporary culture. The New Wine, New Wineskins framework is integrated into Dr. Metzger's courses at Multnomah Biblical Seminary, where he serves as Professor of Christian Theology and Theology of Culture. New Wine is an official program of the Seminary. Dr. Metzger is editor of the journal Cultural Encounters: A Journal for the Theology of Culture, which is a publication of The Institute for the Theology of Culture. Dr. Metzger blogs frequently at Uncommon God, Common Good (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/).
Integrating theology and spirituality with cultural sensitivity stands at the center of Dr. Metzger's ministry vision. He and his wife, Mariko, a native of Japan, have been active in intercultural ministry in churches in the States, Japan, and England. Dr. Metzger is the author of Connecting Christ: How to Discuss Jesus in a World of Diverse Paths (Thomas Nelson, May 2012); New Wine Tastings: Theological Essays of Cultural Engagement (Cascade, 2011); The Gospel of John: When Love Comes to Town (InterVarsity Press, 2010); Exploring Ecclesiology: An Evangelical and Ecumenical Introduction (co-authored with Brad Harper; Brazos, 2009); Consuming Jesus: Beyond Race and Class Divisions in a Consumer Church (Eerdmans, 2007); and The Word of Christ and the World of Culture: Sacred and Secular through the Theology of Karl Barth (Eerdmans, 2003). He is co-editor of A World for All?: Global Civil Society in Political Theory and Trinitarian Theology (co-edited with William F. Storrar and Peter J. Casarella; Eerdmans, 2011); and editor of Trinitarian Soundings in Systematic Theology (T&T Clark International, 2005). Dr. Metzger is a member of the Center of Theological Inquiry, Princeton, New Jersey. The Metzgers have two children. Dr. Metzger has a keen interest in the art of Katsushika Hokusai and Georges Rouault and in the writings of John Steinbeck.
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I hear and read of the increasing fragmentation of the Evangelical movement. Perhaps it has something to do with the passing of the cultural influence of Dr. James Dobson as an overarching force who speaks for the movement. Perhaps it has something to do with the increase in diversity politically and culturally within Evangelicalism. There may be many reasons for such fragmentation.
Fragmentation is bound to happen from time to time given that we don’t have a papal figure or common liturgy or universally binding doctrinal statement that unites Evangelicals. All too often, we tend to depend on charismatic leaders as uniting forces. Such figures and their charisma come and go, and so the movement is bound to go through ups and downs and experience fragmentation. Even those traditions that have strong and longstanding institutional and organizational structures in place experience significant challenges from time to time. So, for all the differences from them, we Evangelicals are not alone.
Personally, I find David Bebbington’s quadrilateral a significant framework for reframing the Evangelical movement during times of upheaval. I believe the historic values and intuitions that Bebbington articulates and that have been embraced by Evangelicals in various contexts will bring the movement back in service to the entire church. The National Association of Evangelicals sets forth Bebbington’s key distinctives for the movement:
Conversionism: the belief that lives need to be transformed through a “born-again” experience and a lifelong process of following Jesus.
Activism: the expression and demonstration of the gospel in missionary and social reform efforts
Biblicism: a high regard for and obedience to the Bible as the ultimate authority
Crucicentrism: a stress on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross as making possible the redemption of humanity.
While these distinctives or characteristics are not exhaustive, they are suggestive and constructive, serving as a sound basis for ongoing development and engagement.
Where might we go from here in relation to Bebbington’s quadrilateral? No doubt in many directions. Two directions stand out to me. As we live increasingly in a multi-faith world, it is important for Evangelicals to cultivate a form of centrism that helps us engage intra-faith (within the Christian commonwealth) concerns in a manner where our movement’s emphases noted by Bebbington serve the entire church in its mission. I for one see the Reformation tradition not as the last word, but as a reforming movement for renewal of the entire church as we are reformed in obedience to the Word (Biblicism). Moreover, as we serve to reenergize and help refocus the mission of the entire church in view of our Evangelical distinctives, we can also collaborate with the church at large to engage the interfaith community in centered terms. Of course, Conversionism is a value that Evangelicals should bring to bear on all of our public concerns, but to do so in a way that allows us to enter into conversations with those of other religions and spiritual paths that are not controlling but engage them in ways that affirm the common good. Being centered in Christ in one’s engagement of the religious other should not lead to coercive evangelism, but constructive interaction that cultivates understanding and respect, while accounting for various distinctives, including the Christian call to take with the utmost seriousness the life-altering claims of Christ that leads to compassion and self-sacrifical neighborliness in view of our firm hope in Christ and his redmpetion of humanity (Crucicentrism). Moreover, and in keeping with what has been stated to this point, I believe Bebbington’s emphasis on Activism should lead Evangelicals today to engage not by way of moral uplift or from positions of power, as Evangelicals relate to the poor, but to proceed from a vantage point of poverty of spirit and from the margins as centered in Christ. It also requires that we move beyond the cultural captivity of Western structures of cultural dominance to enter fully into a holistic Christianity made up of diverse ethnic leaders, male and female, in service to Christ.
This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.
(Editor’s note: The following is reprinted with permission from Northwest Dharma Newswhere it was originally titled “Evangelicals and Buddhists Share and Probe: A Unique and Fruitful Dialogue in Portland”. It describes a rich and fruitful Buddhist-Christian dialogue that has been unfolding in Portland over many years. The top part of this piece, by Zen Abbot Kyogen Carlson, is followed by a section by me.)
By Kyogen Carlson
In what might seem an unlikely conversation, conservative Evangelicals and Zen Buddhists in Portland have been meeting for potluck dinners, serious dialogue and the cultivation of friendship since 2005.
People on both sides have found the experience to be eye-opening, refreshing and rewarding. With some humility, not claiming to have all the answers, we have found common ground. We have learned we don’t have to come to complete agreement in order to find areas of agreement.
The most recent series wrapped up April 18 at Portland’s Multnomah University, a Christian college, graduate school and seminary, and plans are already in the works for another series next fall and winter. In 2011 we added vajrayana Buddhists, and this year theravada Buddhists, while the Christians involved have a connection to the university’s Institute for the Theology of Culture. How did this unlikely arrangement come about?
After a phone conversation with a distraught sangha member who was deeply angry, particularly with Christians, I thought of Dr. Paul Metzger, a professor of theology and culture at Multnomah. I had met Paul in a dialogue group that brought religious leaders together with the Portland Police Bureau personnel to discuss social issues, and I had been impressed with his thoughtfulness and understanding of other perspectives.
I got in touch with him and asked if he would be willing to come speak to senior members of our sangha. He said he would.
It is amazing to me now to remember how much fear and anxiety there was on both sides as we first approached each other, with our strong concepts about one another. Paul came to our center with some graduate students to meet with our lay disciple group. Next I went to Multnomah to address students and faculty there.
For instance, the Christians were surprised we ate regular Western-style vegetarian food, like fruit salad. I suppose they thought we would dine on brown rice and mu tea, and put on inscrutable airs. One sangha member put it this way: “They were surprised by how ordinary we were. We were surprised by how extraordinary they were.” That sums it up well.
What I’ve learned from these encounters is that if I am willing to move toward others, yielding a little and admitting I don’t have all the answers, and that sometimes people on my side of the debate are unreasonable, they will relax a bit and move toward me and also yield a bit.
The Christians have proven, for example, quick to admit the harm caused by pressure and harsh rhetoric by some in their camp.
Each year we have tackled the big social issues: abortion, the death penalty, war, gay marriage, and all the related questions. We have also tackled tough personal issues, like “do you believe your gay son is going to hell?”
While to us they can seem rigid in some of their views, to them we can seem rudderless, without a fixed moral compass. What I’ve found impressive is that they find the struggle over these questions to be of paramount significance, just as we do. Fewer abortions would be good, but how do we get there? We tend to agree on the problem of consumerism, but not always on how it manifests itself.
This year, before each meeting, we sent out questions for participants to consider, such as: “Why do so many social liberals oppose the death penalty and support abortion rights, while so many social conservatives do just the opposite? How do you form your views on these questions? How does your religious perspective inform those views? Have your views evolved over time, and if so, how?”
Another time we suggested participants consider what questions they had for the “other side,” such as: “Do you ever find yourself at odds with conservative/liberal ‘orthodoxy’? Is it difficult to speak up when you do?” One meeting ended with each person describing what ‘faith’ meant to them, and how they experienced or felt it. It was fascinating to discover a high degree of commonality in experience.
I think many of the evangelicals were surprised by how much liberal Buddhists grapple with ethical issues in a deep and serious way. Many Buddhists, on the other hand, were surprised by the degree to which our Evangelical friends struggle with the many demands their faith places on them, working to understand what God really wants of them.
I have been trying to come up with a metaphor to illustrate our perspectives, and the compass seems to be the best I have found. The Evangelicals’ fixed object is Jesus and their relationship with him; the Bible is their guidebook. They work to align their internal moral compass with both of them. For we Buddhists, the primary point is the internal compass itself, but practice and awareness of mind states are essential for clearing away our obstructions.
One time Paul said to me, “You might not agree, but I think we are morally more consistent than you.” I answered, “Actually, I agree completely, but consistency isn’t necessarily more profound or correct.”
I admire how their consistency holds their feet to the fire, requiring thoughtful Christians to grapple with this consistency. Because we don’t draw lines quite so sharply, thoughtful Buddhists have to grapple with many of the same issues in a different way, to understand how to meet them.
At our last meeting of this cycle a Buddhist, one half of a gay couple, invited a Christian friend to ask the toughest question he could. The Christian was hesitant, and prefaced his question by saying “I hope you know that I love you dearly.” Then he said, “Nevertheless, I believe your homosexual lifestyle does not honor God. How does my saying that affect you?”
The gay man’s partner then described what happened when he heard the question. First he went cold, followed by anger. He watched it arise, then settle. He looked around and saw he was with caring friends and he let it all dissolve. Another Buddhist added, “And that is how we honor God.”
Truly this was an exchange that took place with deep trust on both sides, although it may be hard for many people to understand that. It also demonstrates a difference in the way authority and rules are understood in the two different traditions.
In February, 2012, Christians and Buddhists gathered for a weekend retreat, at Camp Collins, Ore., funded by a grant from the Association of Theological Schools.
Many of the Christians found this exchange to be deeply significant, shining a light on what matters to Buddhists, yet the issue itself remains unresolved. While that is true, as we meet each other and come to understand each other better, we appreciate each other more.
I am very impressed with how the Christians value relationships and neighborliness. It comes from how deeply and sincerely they take cultivating their relationship with Jesus. Their path is nothing if not personal.
Even as we understand and appreciate each other more, it doesn’t change the perspectives we each hold. These seem to arise from how we are wired, in some profound way. We contend with each other with vigor, but also with loving kindness. Through this process deep friendships form, and the gulf dividing us disappears.
Kyogen Carlson was educated at the University of California at Berkeley, receiving a bachelor’s degree in sociology in 1971. He was ordained in 1972 by Roshi Jiyu-Kennett, abbess of Shasta Abbey, a Soto Zen monastery in northern California. He received dharma Transmission and full authorization to teach in 1978. Since 1982 he and his wife Gyokuko Carlson have guided Dharma Rain Zen Center in Portland, where they focus on lay practice and building community. He is the author of “Zen in the American Grain” and “Zen Roots.
Beyond Monologue: With Palms and Hearts Joined
By Paul Louis Metzger
My friend and colleague, Abbot Kyogen Carlson, has often remarked that it is much harder to operate in the middle than at the extremes. Sometimes it is referred to as the radical middle.
Ideology often keeps us talking only among ourselves, at our respective ends of the religious and cultural spectrum.
Kyogen and others in the Buddhist community have demonstrated courage and tenacity in getting to know my Evangelical community. Ever since Kyogen risked and reached out to invite me to speak at Dharma Rain Zen Center, we have worked together “with palms joined,” as he often closes his correspondence.
Hearts and minds have also joined as a result of these conversations and meals. While it has not always been easy, as Kyogen’s article suggests, the risks and challenges have been worth it: I have never had a meaningful relationship that did not demand much of me. I would surmise that the same holds true here for others who have joined palms with Kyogen and me, on this Buddhist-Evangelical dialogical journey.
Last year at an event related to our partnership at Powell’s Books in Portland, Kyogen mentioned that he was struck by how there is an immovable or fixed object for us Evangelicals (Jesus, as disclosed in the Gospel of John, for example) that shapes how we approach dialogue. Kyogen said that for Buddhists the internal compass that involves the process of critical consciousness is the essential matter.
While we also attend to critical questioning, the immovable or fixed object certainly shapes the way in which we Evangelicals approach our engagement with our Buddhist friends and neighbors. What is most striking to me about our Buddhist dialogue partners is how willing they are to press in and move beyond the seemingly immovable stereotypes our respective camps project onto one another, in search of meaningful encounters over potluck meals and personal narratives.
A spirit of inquisitiveness, mixed with transparency and vulnerability, is moving us toward the radical middle and away from the ideological extremes where relationships remain fixed, rigid, and fragile. I must confess that these exchanges are some of the most life-giving encounters I have experienced.
In addition to the qualities of inquisitiveness, transparency and vulnerability that together our groups seek to model, we try and keep the settings intimate. Talking story while sharing food with small diverse groups of people helps to keep conversations from becoming ideologically and politically charged. Of course, politics matter. But politics are intended to serve people with all their positions in search of the common good, rather than reducing people to positions that only serve special interest groups.
We have not changed our theological or metaphysical convictions through these dialogues, though we have deepened our understanding and relationships. We have agreed that the best way to move toward the radical middle is not by leaving our positions behind, or by stopping short of listening unless those on the other side change paths. Rather, we go through our traditions in search of the other, and we find them and ourselves in the process, with palms and hearts joined.
It is important for Christians to know who they are in their faith to enter meaningfully into conversations with those of other religions. It wasn’t an Evangelical Christian from whom I first heard these words, but a professor at a Mainline Protestant liberal seminary, who said his students were not sure how to proceed in conversations with those of other faiths because they were not sure of their own tradition, including such doctrines as Christology. As a result, he said they were at a loss in pursuing such conversations in ways that would prove significant as encounters with those in other religions.
Of course, it is also important to learn well the traditions of those with whom one enters into conversation. The Apostle Paul appears to have been well-versed in Pagan thought, as reflected on Mars Hill (See my article on this subject titled Idol Makers). It wasn’t simply Evangelicals from whom I heard these words, but also from a leading Pagan figure, Jason Pitzl-Waters, who spoke in my world religions class this past Thursday. Jason is the moderator of the blog, The Wild Hunt: A Modern Pagan Perspective (For a discussion of Paganism, see my treatment of the subject and the ensuing comments on the topic at Idol Makers). Jason has spoken two years running in my world religions class (Here is what he wrote last year concerning his rationale for speaking in the class). Jason knows who he is and does not take jabs at us or frame us in view of anti-Christian propaganda. Moreover, Jason does not have hang-ups concerning Christianity; he did not grow up with them either. All this makes it possible for him to engage us well and for us to enter into meaningful conversations with him.
Jason doesn’t expect Christians to believe Pagans are on the right path, but to respect Pagans enough to understand them. He encouraged us Evangelical Christians to be like the Apostle Paul, who thought the Pagans of his day were in error and believed they should convert, but still understood them. Jason encouraged us to embrace a Pauline attitude and said that it is okay to want to try and convert Pagans since that is an Evangelical Christian value. Still, he argued that it is not right to approach Pagans in propaganda-like terms (such as cartoon gospel tract characters that distort and sensationalize real Pagans), but rather in thoughtful terms like Paul did in his nuanced interaction with the Pagans on Mars Hill in Acts 17.
Last year there was a breakthrough in my class when my students realized that Mike Warnke’s Satan Seller does not represent Paganism. They were also taken aback when Jason exhorted us: “If you want to lead me to Christ, become my friends.” It is unlikely that Jason will ever convert; regardless, I would hope Evangelical Christians like myself would want to be his friends, real friends and not just pragmatically so that friendship becomes merely the means to the end of evangelism and conversion. Otherwise, our relational talk is only a propaganda ploy and a front for ulterior motives. As Jason said, “All too often, relationships are abandoned in favor of the sell.”
Jason actually wants to encourage Evangelical Christians to develop a “deeper” missional stance. “Why is that?” I asked him. He responded by saying that he wants to help Christians develop a deeper missional attitude, which is centered in honesty and unfiltered knowledge (not perspectives tainted by inaccuracies and distortions) of the religions with which they interact. He wants us to try and convert the real him rather than a paper cut-out version, which is a caricature. He wants us to see him clearly. If we see him/them that way, then we can have honest discussions and live together in a harmonious manner. If we don’t engage openly with understanding, it leads to even greater distortions. We don’t have to agree about ultimate reality to live harmoniously, but we do need to respect one another for who we are, not discount one another for what we are not. This is a valuable sentiment, and one that I not only share with Jason, but also with my colleague John Morehead at the Evangelical Chapter of the Foundation for Religious Diplomacy. We at the FRD advocate understanding and a discussion of our differences through religious diplomacy rather than a downplaying of differences found frequently in interfaith work.
As Jason reminded us, everyone of us knows how uncomfortable it is when we are misunderstood. Jason does not want to see Christianity defined by misguided extremists. All he asks in return is that we don’t approach Pagans as diabolical cartoon characters. The more thoughtful we are the less likely will it be possible for others to make us the brunt of their own cartoon jokes and the inspiration for their own horror stories.
Going further, the more secure in Christ we Christians are the less we need to devalue others from different paths: rather than devaluing them, we should lift up Christ who does not devalue them either but loves them and knows them for who they are, not what we would reduce them to be. By valuing him, we learn to value them in all their radical difference from us; by devaluing them, we end up devaluing him who is radically different from all of us.
This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.
I am thankful for the midwives who helped us bring our children into the world. They didn’t create our kids or magically pull them out of thin air. They coached my wife and me as my wife took deep breaths and pushed them into the world while I held my breath, praying to Jesus all the way.
So many people today look at Jesus as a midwife, not God incarnate. Even those who view him as an incarnation don’t view him as the one and only incarnation of God. None of this is new. Søren Kierkegaard observed this trend in his own day. Kierkegaard spoke of this trend as “the Socratic view,” which he witnessed in aspects of Hegelian thought. On this account, Jesus is a midwife, like Socrates, helping humanity bring forth what has always been there within it, albeit implicitly, namely, its own participation in the divine nature. I shared Kierkegaard’s argument on this subject today in my theology class. You should have seen the looks on people’s faces, as they were giving birth to thought.
Kierkegaard says of “the Socratic view” that “Every human being is himself the midpoint, and the whole world focuses only on him because his self-knowledge is God-knowledge.”[1] From this Socratic perspective, as Kierkegaard reflects upon it, knowledge of the eternal is latent within humanity, needing to be awakened from its dormant state. On the Platonic view, reflected in Socrates, eternal truth lies within the human self, whose soul is eternal and which was eternally cognizant of the eternal forms prior to (but not since) birth.
In contrast to this perspective, Kierkegaard claims that we must look beyond ourselves for truth, for within ourselves we will only discover “untruth,” “for the learner is indeed untruth.”[2] In contrast to the midwife who serves as an occasion for the awakening of truth or really untruth within ourselves, and not truth itself, Kierkegaard writes of the teacher who is not simply a teacher, but who is “the god himself.”[3] This teacher reveals truth and provides the basis for understanding, transforming the student in the process. The teacher—Jesus—is for Kierkegaard “savior,” “deliverer,” “reconciler,” “judge.”[4]This Jesus is the sole wisdom of God, but foolishness to the Greeks and their descendants. As much as I like midwives, Jesus is no midwife. The biblical Jesus is the Savior of the world.
This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.
[1]Søren Kierkegaard, Philosophical Fragments, ed. and trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), p. 11.
I remember Dr. John M. Perkins once saying, “There’s no such thing as a sophisticated Christian.” I have never forgotten those words. Dr. Perkins wasn’t saying that people should be simplistic or unskilled in their work. What I think he was saying is that people should be simple and pure in their devotion to Christ and other people.
My father was a simple man. In contrast, I grew up wanting to be sophisticated, and I wished my dad were that as well. How I longed to be marked by near-omniscience and hailed as a sage by my peers! While I have never received such accolades, one person was convinced early on that my father was one of the brightest men who ever lived: one of my nieces once boasted as a child to those at school that her grandfather (my dad) knew so many languages. She had witnessed as a little girl how he would strike up conversations with people from different countries. This impressed her. But she didn’t seem to know at that time that Dad knew only a few words in each of those languages, and that he was out of his depths once they responded. It gave my dad great joy to speak a few words of Japanese or Polish, for example, and watch Japanese and Polish people’s faces light up when they heard him speak to them. My dad had a way with a few simple words of greeting and with making people’s days brighter wherever he went.
On Father’s Day, I am thankful for Dad’s profound relational simplicity: he loved people, really loved them. As I grow older, I hope to be more and more like my late dad—not fixated with being sophisticated, but relationally pure and simple.
This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.
I hear and read of the increasing fragmentation of the Evangelical movement. Perhaps it has something to do with the passing of the cultural influence of Dr. James Dobson as an overarching force who speaks for the movement. Perhaps it has something to do with the increase in diversity politically and culturally within Evangelicalism. There may be many reasons for such fragmentation.
