Category: Editor’s Introduction

What would Jesus do about the health care crisis in the United States today? It’s hard to say based on all the differences between his agrarian, theocratic culture and our free market, pluralistic society. However, we do know that the Hebrew scriptures have a great deal to say about caring for the poor and sick. Such concern was taken up and applied in the canonical Gospels. Scripture’s universal exhortation to care for the poor and sick should cause us to consider carefully how Christians should address health care issues in the church and society at large.

Due to the limits of space and time, let’s consider one New Testament text. The raising of Lazarus from the dead in John 11 serves as a spectacular miraculous sign of Jesus’s being God’s Son. What bearing does the text have on health care? For one, Jesus provides quality, state-of-the-art health care: he does not simply resuscitate Lazarus—the Lord raises him to new life. For another, Jesus provides health care for people who are not insiders to the system; in other words, Jesus’s health care services are accessible to people like Lazarus and his sisters who do not belong to the cultural establishment as the Sanhedrin do (in fact, we are told in John 12:9–11 that the insiders plot to kill Lazarus as well as Jesus because of Jesus’s raising Lazarus from the dead). Such accessibility in Jesus’s case is quite inexpensive—in fact, it is free. Furthermore, Jesus does not simply provide a cure: he also connects heart-to-heart with those who grieve (Jn 11:35–36). However, there is one thing that is problematic in terms of Jesus’s delivery system—it is not always timely; Jesus allows Lazarus to die before going to restore him so that he can bring glory to God (Jn 11:5–21).

The preceding musings are not intended to be exhaustive but simply thought-provoking. What is required is sustained consideration of the subject of health care from a variety of angles. This present issue of Cultural Encounters resulted from a conference on health care that The Institute for the Theology of Culture: New Wine, New Wineskins hosted in the autumn of 2013. A few of the articles and the panel discussions presented here emerged in relation to the conference. Over time, other themes and perspectives arose and were added to the mix. In what follows, the readership will find an extensive series of reflections on life and death matters pertaining to health care that involves medical professionals from various disciplines and perspectives: political and community leaders, historians, a sociologist, a pastor, and theologians.

Let’s briefly return to John 11. We find here Jesus’s claim that he is the resurrection and the life (Jn 11:25). Jesus is Lord of life, even as one who will experience death. Death cannot hold him in the grave nor those who trust in him (Jn 11:26). Jesus does not hide from the complexities of life and death, sorrow and grief, but addresses them up close and personal, as the Gospel accounts, including John 11, make clear. I take great comfort in the fact that Jesus is the Master Physician who engages the reality of health care and suffering in a multifaceted, God-honoring, human-honoring way. Truly, he is the resurrection and the life.

The reality of Jesus Christ provides assurance and security against the backdrop of the various uncertainties of life and death. Hope in the resurrection centered in Jesus breeds confidence in those who suffer the loss of those they hold dear. With this point in mind, I come to dedicate this issue of Cultural Encounters: A Journal for the Theology of Culture to the memory and legacy of the recently deceased president of Multnomah University, Dr. Daniel R. Lockwood. Cultural Encounters and the Institute for the Theology of Culture: New Wine, New Wineskins, which publishes the journal, came into existence many years ago at Multnomah University during Dr. Lockwood’s tenure as president. Dr. Lockwood passed away July 9, 2013, after a nine-year battle with cancer. The son of a physician, he understood all too well the mystery and fragility of life and its close association with death. Yet even in the face of death, Dr. Lockwood never lost confidence but remained resilient and full of hope. He clearly understood that cancer would not keep him down at the resurrection of the dead. Nor will cancer keep him down in the lives of those who served under his able leadership as we move forward as an institution. We at New Wine, New Wineskins and Cultural Encounters at Multnomah University will take our late president and his contagious hope and resilience forward as we engage the complex theological-cultural enterprise, including health care, in the years ahead.

—Paul Louis Metzger, Editor

This issue of Cultural Encounters is dedicated to the memory of one of our former editors and authors, Dr. Richard Leo Twiss, Tayoate Ob Najin (“He Stands with his People”). Richard passed from this life to the next on February 9, 2013, in Washington, D.C. He was fifty-eight years of age when he died unexpectedly as a result of a massive heart attack. He was encircled by his wife, Katherine, and sons Andrew, Phillip, Ian, and Daniel at the time of his passing. Richard is now part of that great cloud of witnesses that encircles us. This is Cultural Encounters’ opportunity to honor Richard for the great witness he was to Jesus Christ, as he stood with his people.

Richard journeyed far in this life as a “two-legged.” He was born on the Rosebud Reservation, South Dakota, in the midst of his mother Winona (Larvie) LaPointe’s community, the Sicangu Band of the Rosebud Lakota/Sioux. Richard’s father, Franklin (Buster) Twiss (deceased), was Oglala from the Pine Ridge Lakota/Sioux Reservation, which is also in South Dakota. I will leave it to the contributors to speak to various aspects of Richard’s story and the importance of his work. Let it suffice to say that Richard’s sojourn as a First Nations person and as a Christian led him far and wide and back again to his roots. By the time of his passing, he was one of the most prophetic evangelical Christian leaders of his day, as he championed the concerns of indigenous peoples worldwide. In addition to the thousands of people who were impacted by Richard through personal relationship, his international labors in contextualized theology through such literary efforts as Christ, Culture and the Kingdom of God, 500 Years of Bad Haircuts (later republished under the title One Church, Many Tribes), and his crowning achievement, Rescuing Theology from the Cowboys, furthered the impact of his vision for Christ’s kingdom community. Among other notable achievements, Richard cofounded NAIITS (North American Institute for Indigenous Theological Studies) and Evangelicals for Justice. He and his wife Katherine created Wiconi International, whose mission is “to work for the well-being of our Native people by advancing cultural formation, indigenous education, spiritual awareness and social justice connected to the teachings and life of Jesus, through an indigenous worldview framework.” Richard’s as well as Katherine’s work highlights at every turn the need for contextualization of the gospel and the brokenness and contrition that must always accompany it. My hope and prayer is that just as our Lord was a kernel of wheat that providentially fell to the ground and died to produce many seeds (Jn 12:24), Richard’s passing will be used providentially by God as the Spirit breaks forth to produce many new seeds that bear fruit for Christ, as Richard’s did.

Memorials and tributes in honor of Richard’s legacy from several scholars and practitioners follow immediately after the editor’s introduction. In addition to the series of reflections in honor of Richard, the journal turns its attention to a rigorous debate that has gone on for years at Biola University in Los Angeles, California, concerning the towering Jesus Mural, painted by a renowned artist. Central to the debate, which has included representatives of various disciplines and diverse constituents, is the concern over cultural hegemony (Jesus is portrayed as a white man) in addition to artistic freedom. The journal gives you a glimpse of various dimensions and perspectives that were involved in the ongoing discussion as Biola’s professors, alumni, and current President weigh in on how to address what to do about the mural. Together with consideration of Richard’s work, the dialogue draws attention to the need for Christians of all walks of life to guard against amorphous and homogeneous thought forms and hubris; central to the celebration of a diverse community of faith in honor of Christ is contextualized theology and a broken and contrite spirit.

The scene then shifts from the West Coast of the United States to the Asian continent and India. We turn from consideration of a recent debate surrounding a white Jesus mural on a conservative evangelical Christian campus in Southern California to the burning of widows in India in a previous era. What unites the two subjects, along with the tributes to Richard Twiss, is concern over contextualization of the gospel free of Western white cultural elitism, including Christendom. On the subject of widow burning, I interviewed Drs. Mrinalini Sebastian and J. Jayakiran Sebastian, Indian Christians and scholars who have labored at length to contextualize the gospel in pluralistic settings with great sensitivity in India and abroad. For them, the contextualization of the gospel in our global era will, for example, guard against the hubris that pitted the West against India and the East, and Christianity against Hinduism. It will instead favor missional concern for our fellow humans. Missional concern will involve among other things an appeal to the inhumanity of such acts as widow burning. These appeals will often win collaboration from diverse religious and ethnic others, as was the case historically, as many Hindus shared those Christian witnesses’ concern.

Attention to the contextualization of the gospel has led many Christians to talk of “incarnational ministry.” Is such language appropriate, or does the terminology reflect a category mistake? What is the import of such language as “incarnational ministry” for the Christian life positively or negatively? J. Todd Billings and I engage in a conversation that begins with his Christianity Today article titled “The Problem with ‘Incarnational Ministry,’” with a tagline that reads, “What if our mission is not to ‘be Jesus’ to other cultures, but to join with the Holy Spirit?” Each of us is concerned for abuses associated with “incarnational ministry” but comes to different conclusions as to the merits of a chastened use of such language. In addition to noting our shared concern over abuses and differences over usability of such language, it is important to point out that Billings and I celebrate the mystery of the incarnation and our participation in Christ’s life with all that is entailed by such participation for contextualized ministry today. Taking seriously Christ’s life and our union with him in the Spirit will lead us to taking seriously the concrete situation in which we find ourselves without taking ourselves too seriously.

It is crucial that we take to heart our participation in Christ’s life and our sharing in his ministry among those we are called to serve. Participation in his life is always a particular participation. There is no such thing as an amorphous Jesus or an amorphous Christian or an amorphous theology: they are always particular and concrete. Still, that does not mean that Jesus is enslaved to a particular context, as if we could objectify and control God’s revelation. Rightful concern for contextualization will always guard against hubris in that Jesus as the Word made flesh is always revealed in hiddenness and hidden in revelation. We can never master him but must always submit ourselves in a spirit of brokenness and contrition to be mastered by him and so be set free. Whenever the church fails to submit itself to Christ’s lordship in revelation but seeks to gain mastery of the revelation event, the church takes matters into its own hands. Such arrogance and control will lead eventually to the loss of faith as pride always goes before a fall.

Such was the case for Christianity in the North and South during and after the Civil War era. As Kimlyn Bender argues, the forces of Christendom in the North and South respectively claimed to know far too much of God’s providential workings and viewed themselves as serving on God’s side against the other. Drawing especially upon George C. Rable’s God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War, Bender traces the specific features of a particular and deterministic doctrine of divine providence that was widespread in the North and South. This doctrine’s inherent faults led in part to the unraveling of a Christian understanding of history in the post-war period in America. Perhaps we Christians can learn a thing or two today in view of the tragedy of the war and its aftermath for the North and South: no matter the era, overconfidence in claiming to discern providence and presumption over one’s alignment with God’s purposes often backfires and leads to the loss of faith.

Here we come full circle to where we began with the editor’s introduction. The North and South’s respective Manifest Destiny ambitions were also at work in the conquest of America through the use of African and Native American peoples. The failure to take seriously the particular identity of Jesus Christ as a marginalized Jewish male under imperial Rome, as the Lord of the Christian faith, means that we will fail to identify with orphans, widows, and aliens in their distress. It will also entail our lack of identification with indigenous peoples and God’s mysterious operation in and through these resilient and richly tapestried, though marginalized, communities. Only as we reframe our witness as Christians and draw upon the work of prophetic witnesses such as the late Richard Twiss will we be prepared to speak and live out our faith from the margins with renewed energy in the Spirit. Only then will Christ’s church in North America be in position to counteract the dynamics of pride and power that result in disillusionment and the marginalization of the faith.

—Paul Louis Metzger, Editor

Was Moses a feminist? It all depends on what texts from the Torah one emphasizes and what one means by feminist. If one takes to heart such texts as Genesis 1:26–31 on male and female sharing in the image of God and lordship in the creation, Genesis 2:18, 20 on ezer, meaning “helper” (perhaps even “warrior”; the same word is used for God as a “strong helper”), and Genesis 3:16 on a man ruling over a woman because of the fall, one might think of Moses as a feminist. Of course, there are other texts that are taken by many interpreters to suggest that the society Moses helped form under God’s direction was patriarchal (See, for example, Ex 20:17; Ex 21:2–4, 7; Nm 5:11–31; Nm 18:1–7; cf. Ex 28:1). Still, even if one were to argue for patriarchy, God places limits on it to protect women’s rights in a post-fallen state (Ex 21:7–11). Feminist or non-feminist, Moses was no male supremacist.

The Bible does not have a lot to say about gender, but rather how we are to treat one another as those created in the image of God. There’s no talk about what kinds of toys boys and girls should play with or what colors they should like. Sure, there are those texts that say men should not dress like women or vice versa (Dt 22:5). But what then does one do with Scotsmen who wear kilts? Normally, we don’t think anything of it. We understand that such clothing is associated with masculinity in Scottish culture. Besides, I doubt anyone of us would have dared to mock William Wallace of Brave Heart fame for wearing one.

Was Jacob effeminate? He hung around the tents and did not hunt like his hairy brother, Esau (Gn 25:26–28; Gn 27:11). Yet God made him the Patriarch whose twelve sons became the heads of Israel’s tribes (Gn 49:28). What do we know about Samson’s masculinity? He seemed to be temperamental, moody, irrational, and brash (See Jgs 13–16); depending on one’s cultural norms, this could pass for stereotypes for men or for women. We don’t know much about Samson’s physique, except that he had long hair. He may not have been a big, brawny man, since his strength was associated with his length of hair and God’s presence (Jgs 16:17–20). Would that make Samson feminine? What about Jesus? Was he a real man? Did he hunt and fish? We know he was a carpenter’s son, but not much more. If we are taking Scripture to heart, we will realize that Jesus’ stance on women was radical in his day. Women accompanied Jesus along with the Apostles in Jesus’ ministry (Lk 8:1–3). They were permitted to listen to Jesus teach rather than be locked away in the kitchen (Lk 10:38–41). They also proclaimed the resurrection, as in the case of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, who were given the task to inform the Apostles that the Lord had been raised from the dead (Mt 28:1–10; Jn 20:10–18). Jesus, who is the ultimate image of God (Col 1:18), is one with his body and bride (Col 1:15, 18; Eph 5:21–33) made up of men and women, to whom he gives himself sacrificially (Eph 5:21–33). His selfless giving stands in stark contrast to all the talk of men needing to be self-made and strong. It took a lot of strength for him to be so weak and give himself so selflessly in life and in death in order to make a new community not shaped by societal norms, but by his example in inaugurating the kingdom of God.

One finds talk in some Christian circles of real men being producers. What does that make of women? Consumers? A Trinitarian model of relationality involving dynamic relationality does not commodify and reduce men and women to quantities of production and consumption. Rather, men and women are communers who mutually produce and consume, but are not defined by such labels. What should define those of us who are Christians is a relational ontology shaped by Jesus’ radical example and union with his church noted above, but rarely noted in our day.

In this issue of the journal, we are not addressing such matters as church leadership, including complementarian and egalitarian themes, or sexuality, as such. There is quite a bit out there already in our circles addressing both subjects. We really wished to focus on gender. Not enough ink has been spilled on this issue, though a lot of blood has flown as a result of massive ignorance. Some of the articles in this issue of the journal set forth how gender and sexuality are distinct subjects, not one and the same. We are more interested in how the framing of gender impacts boys and girls, men and women of diverse ethnicities here and abroad, including on such subjects as sexual abuse, violence against women, and violence to men. One will find in the pages that follow that our views on gender have a significant, potentially painful, and even possibly dangerous bearing on how all of us approach maleness and femaleness.

The Editorial Board of Cultural Encounters maintains that Christian Scripture should always serve as our ultimate written authority as Christians in approaching any subject, including gender. In addition to Scripture, such subjects as sociology, including the comparison of various cultures on their views of gender, the historical development of a society’s and religious movement’s views on gender, along with such genres as film and science fiction, can also help us all think through our dominant cultural frames of reference on gender, provoking thought and constructive conversation. As you proceed in reading this issue of the journal, we do not ask that you agree with everything you read, but that you would be willing to reexamine your existing perspectives on gender in view of Scripture and the various sources studied. Take into account the various arguments involving Scriptural texts, statistics, definitions, and social groupings, along with the cultural reflections of women and men of diverse backgrounds who share their struggles on how views on gender have impacted them and countless others. Healing from trauma and compassionate and just action that flow from the sacrificial love of God can occur if we listen, look, and read well. In this light, consider how both biblically and missionally we can make our homes, churches, and societies more welcoming and inclusive spaces for cultural engagement as we seek to honor Christ, his church, and diverse peoples in our midst and across the globe.

—Paul Louis Metzger, Editor

What does the kingdom of God have to do with coffee or sociology or pop culture or diverse publics, including the realm of the stranger? Nothing if the kingdom of God is simply a human projection bound up with privatized affections. But if the kingdom involves Jesus breaking into history and revealing the eternal God in the various quarters of society, then everything. After all, the Bible records that Jesus turned water into wine when they had run out at the wedding in Cana; in fact, it was said of his brand that the best was saved for last. So, if Jesus was concerned for good wine, why wouldn’t he be concerned for good coffee? In his eschatological kingdom, which he inaugurates in his person, the best is indeed saved for last.

Sociology, including sociology of religion, has a vital place in understanding people groups and movements, including the spiritual dimension. Still, the kingdom of God cannot be reduced to a sociological feature within culture. It always intersects and can even be integrated in some manner with the various domains of what makes a society tick. However, the vertical or eternal dimension can never be confused with the horizontal or temporal sphere without undermining both realities. They must remain distinct and yet inseparable, for the kingdom of God to have a bearing on the advance of human civilization, including such spheres as pop culture.

As stated above, the kingdom of God should never be associated with privatized affections. In fact, affections are often very public, shaping a variety of social phenomenon, including pop culture. Our public witness to Christ in what is often termed apologetics must account for the realm of desires and how they shape culture. We must keep firmly in mind that the revelation of the eternal God in and through the person of Jesus on center stage in history serves as the basis for reasoned discourse in the public square on such matters as the desires of the heart. Without this firm basis, what is to keep us from reducing truth claims to mythological constructions that we project onto ‘God’?

This last question is by no means trivial. For one, mythological projections fail to provide adequate support for integrating theology with other disciplines that illumines and develops the respective sciences in a manner that also accounts for greater coherence in pursuit of knowledge of what is real. Moreover, given that God has entered history not only as host but also as guest and stranger, we have the firmest basis imaginable to care for the alien and person in need. As a result, our missional and public theological pursuits must account for the stranger whereby we clothe them and not leave them naked and hungry in the public square. In doing so, we also account for the eternal God revealed in Jesus Christ.

The various articles and exchanges in this issue of Cultural Encounters engage in theological cultural pursuits involving the interface of missional and public theology (George Hunsberger and William Storrar), theology and sociology (Eric Flett), apologetics, pop culture and desire (Theodore Turnau), T. F. Torrance’s Trinitarian theology’s bearing on various domains (Paul Molnar, Gary Deddo, Chris Kettler and Alan Torrance), and the kingdom of God’s import for cultural creativity, including the making of a good cup of java (Katelyn Beaty). Here you will find seasoned scholars and practitioners wrestling with weighty and complex issues that bear upon faith in a public manner. Whether or not you read this issue of Cultural Encounters in the privacy of your room with a cup of coffee in hand or in the public marketplace of ideas, where many sell concepts just to make a profit, be thinking of what difference this issue’s ideas make. Consider what difference they make for the various disciplines and cultural artifacts as well as diverse peoples and publics in view of the fact that the eternal God (and not some figment of our imagination) is reconciling human history and the world to himself in and through Christ Jesus. Everything looks different in view of him.

—Paul Louis Metzger, Editor

The cover of this issue of Cultural Encounters reminds us that, just as in The Matrix, things are not always as they appear in the drama of life. The Matrix film trilogy chronicles a futuristic battle between enlightened humans and sentient machines that have subdued the human race through simulating reality. These machines make life appear as normal, when in actual fact the human race’s bodily energy is being harnessed, channeled, and ravaged for these machines’ ambitionsand well-being. The Messiah figure in the trilogy, Neo, frees his mind so thathe can discern reality from appearance. He joins with other enlightened humanbeings to fight to destroy this simulated holocaust.

Things might not appear as dramatic on the stage of real life as on screen in The Matrix. Still, our creations and use of the creation can get the better of us for lessthan ideal ends. Our view and use of space in relation to Christian witness, our approach to theology and writing, our use of technology and our senses in worship (all subjects in this issue) can impact life, worship, and witness for good or for ill. Through our fitting use of God’s good gifts and our creaturely capabilities, we can be fitting participants in God’s drama, which takes place on the stage of history, and to which movie scripts played out in movie theaters witness in varying degrees.

The church enacts this divine drama on the stage of world history. How then do we engage our audience—the unbelieving world? How do we view the space between us? How we view and approach the space between us matters a great deal to our witness, as Wesley Vander Lugt makes clear in the opening essay. Do we erecta wall between our audience (the unbelieving world) and us, thereby failing to address the world in a manner that truly engages and impacts our audience? Do we eradicate the wall, thus failing to maintain the distinction between the church and world and undermining its mission to serve as a light of illumination so that the world might come to share in the truth of Christ and be free in mind, soul, and body? Or do we incorporate the audience as a guest, performing God’s drama among these people and engaging them in the drama through hospitable means?

Jesus breaks through boundaries between the church and world as the central character in God’s masterful play or drama directed by the Holy Spirit, who enlivens the church’s performance on the stage of human history. The triune Godcommunicates to us how we should approach the space between the church and world. As the Word of God enfleshed, Jesus speaks the truth into our lives as helives among us. Jesus breaks down the wall that divides God’s people from the surrounding culture, as he exhorts the church to move beyond its zones of comfortand cryptic, private language games to interact hospitably with an unbelievingworld. Rather than conceiving mission to an audience, whereby the church is set apart from the unbelieving world, or eradicating the appropriate distinction between the community of faith and the unbelieving world, the Lord of the church engages in mission by living among the unbelieving audience in gracious truth, and calls us to do the same.

Whether we are engaging an unbelieving audience or others in the church, it is important that we move beyond mere reflection as professional and lay theologians. As Matt Farlow makes clear in his essay, theologians must do more than narrate. The drama of God requires dramatic theology that involves the dramatic performance of life and faith. Otherwise, our theology and those entrusted to our care will suffer. Dead orthodoxy kills, or at the very least, makes us slumber.

“Dramatic” engagement or participation in the script on the stage of life is necessary, since revelation is more than communication of propositional facts about God. Illumination entails more than keen understanding and description. Revelation involves incorporation of the entirety of our being in Jesus’s life story. Jesus participates in our lives and calls on us to perform in the divine drama. Such reenactment involves the transformation of our entire being, as we come to terms with God coming to us, sharing space with us, and living in our shoes. As those called to witness to the living Word, theologians must do theology withthose we teach. We are called to act it out in the drama of life, teaching peoplewith experiential authority. We cannot remain innocent bystanders, but must see ourselves as participants in the theodrama and model for our students andparishioners how the text of Scripture lives today as we participate in the joys andtragedies of life in our world.

Jon Horne discusses ‘artistic’ works that deny the bad (kitsch) or that deny the good (grotesque); the former moves us toward escapism, and the latter toward nihilism. Horne refers to Paul Young’s The Shack as an example of the former (and even refers to recently deceased artist Thomas Kinkade in this context) and cites the Chapman Brothers’ artwork as an example of the latter. Against the backdrop of these two extremes, he refers to Flannery O’Connor’s work, which he believes holds the two extremes together. Perhaps this is the result of O’Connor’s desire to repeat the incarnation in her writing. Among other things, the incarnation requires indirect communication and involves the imagination. We cannot repeat the incarnation if we seek to resolve all tensions, if we reduce the tensions either toward the good or the bad and eradicate the need for the imagination where God alone can operate and redeem.

O’Connor spoke of the need to judge literary works based on whether or not they portray reality truthfully. Regardless of the motives (even the aim to bring people into the church or to teach them truth about God), if they do not portray reality involving its various tensions accurately, they are doing a disservice to people and to God. Horne moves from this discussion of O’Connor to distinguish between the genres of Christian Living and Christian Literature, placing Young’s work in the former category and O’Connor’s work in the latter. Horne challenges all of us to acquire and cultivate a more nourishing literary diet than what is often availableto the Christian subculture. After all, we are what we eat.

Award-winning author Gina Ochsner also speaks of the need for those writing on faith and in faith, to present reality truthfully, rather than give it a false appearance. Is it any wonder that Ochsner also makes use of O’Connor’s work in her article? Ochsner calls for subtlety in communication and speaks of the need to elevate ourscript involving its various components out of the sphere of easy categorization. All too often, Christian writers seek to provide quick answers, pat answers; drawing from Anton Chekhov, Ochsner maintains that more necessary than anything is learning how to “state the question properly.”

All this comes at a cost. I dare say that many in the church would rather live in a Kinkadian universe that seemingly resolves all tension and removes all pain and provides pat answers. But this is not reality. Ochsner warns the Christian writer who is moved to write with an open eye and heart that such work will come with a price. Such writing is a prophetic enterprise. Writers must be willing to risk for the sake of truth. Like Neo—better than Neo—John the Baptist, we must be willing to play the holy fool for the sake of truth so that people can be liberated. Wheneveryone around us is saying one thing, we must be willing to say it is not like that at all. Literary artists like C. S. Lewis were willing to play the holy fool by writing children’s stories for children of all ages so that they might come to realize that God participates in the lives of his creatures, and that what the world takes for wisdom is what will often make us miss out on the divine drama. Lewis received criticism and disapproval from many of his academic peers for these works, not their applause. But those of us who have read these stories are better for it. The same is true for those of us who read Ochsner’s work. This isn’t Christian living or kitsch; this is literature that is Christian in the best sense of the term—she aims to repeat the incarnation, filled with spirited tension in service to Christ’s redemptive address to humanity.

Joseph Kim and Robin Parry, followed by Robert Redman, Quentin Schultze and DJ Chuang engage in spirited discussions on the role of modern forms of technology in the church. No tool is neutral. If we are not careful, our tools of technology can gain the upper hand and distort Christian community and worship. Good intentions are not sufficient to guard against misapplication. As Quentin Schultze notes, we must ask the question: what is fitting? We must be concerned for how our community is affected by the technologies we employ, and how the forms of technology form us. What happens to our worship experience and witness to the world? If we do not ask such questions, we will inhibit our worship and witness by misapplying various technological forms or by not employing fitting technologies that foster effective communication. As Kim rightly notes, we must guard against worshipping the idol of technique in a culture fixated with it and so easily captivated by the rhetoric of the technological sublime. Such safeguarding does not answer the question as to what must be done when considering this orthat form of technology. Rather, what must be done is the kind of spiritual exercise of rigorous theological and cultural reflection modeled by these exchanges.

In her cultural reflection piece, Barbara Schultze speaks of the need to employ all the senses in worship. Her meditations on pastoral care and the worship experience of her congregation of saints suffering from dementia teach us about our own need to guard against reducing ministry to technique and to cultivate verbal and non-verbal dynamics of communication to worship God in spirit and truth. Moreover, we can hopefully see that even though these saints often suffer from disorientation, they still may perceive at times more clearly than we do the depths of God’s grace and love and experience deeper forms of communion and worship. Our contemporary Christian culture that prizes stimulating technique, youthfulness, and efficiency could learn a great deal from Schultze and her parish. God has a mysterious way of bringing equity to a situation and promoting justice, by reserving the secrets of the kingdom for the little children and those who the majority culture considers poor, foolish, and best forgotten. Things are not always as they appear in the drama of life. Hopefully, the musings contained in this issue will help you see more clearly, as you seek to repeat the incarnate Word and perform well in God’s drama of life.

We are dedicating this issue of Cultural Encounters to the editorial board’s dear friend and colleague, Charles Schreiner. While he himself is a master of various forms of technology for use in effective communication in teaching and worship, he is also very sensitive to make certain that such technologies are not used to reduce communication to technique and enslave people to their technological devices. Moreover, Chuck guards against reducing the Christian faith to kitsch-like categories. He is a model subject for an O’Connor or Ochsner work, in that he participates in the drama of salvation as a performer who lives out the tensions of the faith—the joys and sorrows—in ways that bear witness to the world that the church’s hope in Christ is not hype or mere appearance, but is reality.

—Paul Louis Metzger, Editor