The assumption that the Church is not the place to be talking about money leads to unreality in Christian preaching and teaching. Its true that ministers shouldnt always be talking about money, but their sermons should always be informed by the recognition that faith in Christ invariably involves our money. "Where your treasure is", Jesus said, "there is also your heart". When our money goes on the offering plate, our heart goes with it; if the amount of money represents an insignificant part of our resources then an insignificant portion of our heart has gone forward to the Lords Table. Giving money to God is not, of course, the simple equivalent of giving it to the Church. In one way or another we must give money for the service of God, which in addition to the Church is likely to involve all sorts of charitable endeavours.

If heart religion is always partly about money, I believe we have to move beyond the notion that money-talk in the sanctuary is a vulgar intrusion into what is essentially a "spiritual" event.

-- A.M.W.

REMEMBERING OUR REFORMED ROOTS

Several times in the course of the life of this journal we have given attention to the Wesleyan stream in our tradition. In this issue we turn to the other stream, the Reformed, with three pieces that remind us of our roots there. Two of them, the Profile by Gordon Harland, and the article by Ross Smillie, look at John Calvin himself. Surprises are in store for many of our readers in both of those pieces. The other is an article by Peter Wyatt that identifies our important links with Reformed Churches throughout the world.

REALITY AND UNREALITY IN THE FEDERAL DEFICIT AND DEBT by Ruben C. Bellan

"Deficit" and "debt" are ominous-sounding words that darkly foreshadow future privation and ruin. We all know of persons who, having repeatedly spent more than their income, accumulated debts that obligated them to pay out an ever-increasing portion of their income as interest, and having borrowed to pay that interest, eventually became incapable of meeting all their obligations and had to declare bankruptcy. Thousands of Canadian business firms have experienced this syndrome; so indeed have a number of municipal governments. Provincial governments have come very close; several have come to the verge of bankruptcy but were rescued by the federal government.

Aware of the dangers that deficits and debt constitute for individuals, for business firms, for the junior levels of government, a good many Canadians feel deep concern about the vastly larger deficits and debt of the federal government. Surely, they feel, it cant go on spending billions of dollars more than it takes in; surely, immense and ever-increasing interest charges on an ever-growing debt will, as with an individual, keep constricting the portion of income that can be spent on needs, and must render eventual bankruptcy inevitable.
 

I want to suggest that this concern is unwarranted. Our national government has two powers that totally transcend those of any Canadian individual, business firm, provincial or municipal government, and they absolutely secure it against the financial perils to which everyone else is exposed. It has unlimited power of taxation over everybody in Canada---the power, that is, to order everyone to hand over whatever amounts of money it designates, putting in jail anyone who fails to do so. In addition, the federal government has authority over the banking system which creates the countrys money: it wholly owns the Bank of Canada, the "central bank" which issues our paper currency, and it regulates the operations of the chartered banks which create the bank deposits that form the bulk of Canadas money supply.

There is no physical limit to the amount of currency that the Bank of Canada can print and there is no physical limit to the amount of deposits that the chartered banks can create; given its power over the banks, there is no physical limit, therefore, to the amount of money the federal government can obtain through the exercise of its authority over the banking system. There is, accordingly. no possibility of the government ever being absolutely unable to pay its creditors, as could be the case with an individual, a business firm, another level of government.

A caveat should be registered here. The Bank of Canada can issue only Canadian currency and the chartered banks can create only Canadian dollar deposits. The federal governments assurance of being able to pay its creditors, whatever the amount it owes them, applies only to obligations that call for payment in Canadian dollars. The government is incapable of fulfilling obligations that call for payment in yen, marks, or U.S. dollars. However, that possibility is remote: less than one per cent of Ottawas debt calls for payment in foreign currency.
 

The Federal Government as Stabilizer

In a free-enterprise, market economy like Canadas, a crucially important magnitude is the total amount spent in the country -- the aggregate of what is spent by the public on consumer goods, by the business community on new plant and equipment, by foreigners on the purchase of our exports, by the different levels of government on public works and public services. That total can be excessive-- "too much money may chase too few goods"-- so that inflation occurs. Or it can be too little, in which case there is unemployment: business firms will not hire workers if there is no prospect of being able to sell, at a profit, what those workers will produce. If everyone is to have a job there must be spending in the country sufficient to purchase what is produced.

The federal government is a large player in the Canadian economy, capable of countering tendencies to excess or deficiency in the national total of spending: its own spending is a large fraction of the total spent in the country; its taxation substantially reduces the nations purchasing power. To counter inflationary pressure, it can reduce its spending, compel reduction of the nations spending by increasing taxation. To counter unemployment, it can spend more itself on public works and public services, increase its grants to provincial and municipal governments so that they can spend more on their public works and public services. It can reduce its taxation, so that the general public has more spending power and is able to increase its purchases of consumer goods and services, generating more jobs in the industries that produce them.

If the government, in attempting to generate more jobs, obtained by taxation the money it spent on additional public works and services, it would be proceeding at cross purposes. Their spending power reduced by this taxation, people would buy fewer consumer goods and services; the jobs created by the spending on public works and services would be offset by the jobs lost in the private sector. To ensure that its spending constitutes a net increase in spending in the country, and doesnt merely replace one form of spending with another, the government should obtain the necessary funds by means other than taxation.

It could borrow from Canadians who have savings-- individuals and business firms that have cash and bank deposits which they are prepared to lend out; lending to the government would take the form of purchase of bonds it issued. The interest rate on these bonds would be appreciably lower than that offered on any other security issued in the country, reflecting the iron-clad guarantee of interest payment and principal repayment that could be given only by a government that had authority over the financial institutions that created the countrys money.

The government could obtain all the money it needed, virtually interest-free, from the banking system. If it sold bonds to the Bank of Canada it would, at year-end, recover all the money it paid the Bank as interest, less only the Banks operating expense for the year. Thus, in 1995, the government paid the Bank $2.03 billion as interest on the $25 billion worth of bonds that the Bank held, on the average, during the year; the Banks expenses for the year being $221 million, it turned back $1.81 billion to the Receiver-General on December 31. The interest cost to the government of borrowing that $25 billion for the year was therefore $221 million, making the interest rate 0.8 per cent.

The government could obtain money on very favorable terms from the chartered banks if it was prepared to apply its authority over them. Until fairly recently, the government, in effect, required the chartered banks to lend it, interest-free, one dollar for every nine dollars they loaned out to their customers. Some such requirement could again be imposed that enabled the government to obtain money from the banks at low interest cost.

While the government could obtain funds from the banking system at lower interest cost than if it borrowed from the general public, it might still do most, or all, of its borrowing from the public. Funds which it obtained from the banking system would be newly created money, which, when added to the countrys already existing stock, would have a potential inflationary effect.

Employment Creation by the Government: the Record

Canadas historical experience includes an instance of the government in fact generating jobs for unemployed persons, and on a gigantic scale. During the decade of the 1930s Canadas unemployment rate was in the neighborhood of 20 per cent and it was generally accepted that the public authorities could do little to improve matters. Upon the outbreak of war, the government, determined to achieve the maximum possible war effort, spent whatever was necessary to recruit into the armed forces the largest possible number of Canadian men and women, and to achieve production of the greatest possible quantity of war material. The effect of that immense spending was to liquidate the Great Depression, which had gone on for a full decade, replacing it with dazzling "wartime prosperity", followed by three decades of buoyant peacetime prosperity. Graham Towers, the first Governor of the Bank of Canada, in his Annual Report for 1942, marvelled that "over the past four years, total government expenditure (including provincial and municipal) has increased from about $1 billion a year to about $5 billions a year. At the same time, unemployment has virtually disappeared and the gross value of Canadas output of goods and services has increased from $5 billions a year to more than $9 billions. Even after allowing for an over-all price increase of, say, 20 per cent, the figures indicate that the volume of output has shown a tremendous expansion, which has not yet ceased… The experience of the last four years has shown that Government war expenditure can produce full employment."

The government chose not to obtain entirely by taxation the huge amount of money that it was spending on the war effort. That would have required very steep rates of taxation which might have serious disincentive effect on workers in war industries. The government, therefore, raised about half the funds it needed by selling War Bonds and Victory Bonds, entirely to Canadians. The total sold was enormous: when the war ended in 1945, the governments debt was more than three times what it had been in 1939. Amounting to 154 per cent of the Gross Domestic Product, it was equivalent to a national debt today of about $1300 billion. (The debt today is actually about $600 billion, 73 per cent of the GDP.)

Contrary to dire wartime predictions that the country would be crushed by the immense debt burden it was assuming, the first three post-war decades were the most prosperous in Canadas history. Material progress was rapid; the unemployment rate was never above 7 per cent and in some years was as low as 2 per cent. The reason why the governments huge debt proved not to be a significant burden was that, almost entirely, it was owed to Canadians and therefore had a neutral effect on the countrys finances. The governments obligation to make interest payments on its debt was exactly equalled by the entitlement of Canadians to receive those payments. Some transfers of income no doubt occurred, from some Canadians to other Canadians, but the amount of such interpersonal transfers in all likelihood was substantially less than the total amount of interest paid out. To the probably considerable extent that bondholders were also tax payers, the government wound up taking money from one pocket, as taxation, in order to put it as bond interest into another pocket of the same pair of trousers.

The Past Two Decades

In the mid-1970s, there was a dramatic change in the state and mood of the global economy. The inflation rate, hitherto minimal, rose sharply in consequence of two particular developments: a major USSR crop failure led to a sharp increase in grain prices and the prices of all grain-based foods; OPEC countries drastically raised oil prices in 1973 and kept raising them for the rest of the decade, thereby driving up a host of costs-- of transportation, heating, industrial power, and so on. Workers everywhere demanded pay increases to cover the higher cost of living; the pay increases they received raised production costs, generating a self-perpetuating cycle: cost increases, which led to price increases, which led to pay increases, which led to cost increases.

In the U.S., the Federal Reserve drastically limited the national money supply in order to contain the inflationary pressure. The consequent wild escalation of interest rates led to a sharp deceleration of economic activity, and therefore large numbers of lay-offs. The high rates of unemployment brought a decisive alteration of workers priorities; in negotiating new contracts they now emphasized job security, accepting small increases in pay, no increases at all-- reductions even-- in return for assurance that they would keep their jobs. Once wage increases declined to a very low level, the inflation rate declined correspondingly.

Canadas experience during this period replicated that of the U.S. What with the close linkage of the two countries financial markets, interest rates rose in Canada to the same dizzy heights as did those in the U.S., exercising the same braking effect on the economy, the same increase in unemployment that fostered a sharp decline in the inflation rate. During the years when John Crow was Governor of the Bank of Canada, and determined to bring Canadas inflation rate down to absolutely zero, Canadian monetary policy was even more restrictive than the American.

Considering that it was politically unacceptable to either raise taxes or reduce government spending in significant degree, Canadas Ministers of Finance from 1975 to 1993 produced an unbroken succession of budgets that were substantially in deficit. The repeated borrowing, much at very high interest rates, kept raising the National Debt, thereby continuously raising the burden of annual interest charges. From $88 billion in 1975, the debt soared to $603 billion in 1996; interest on the debt ballooned from $4 billion in 1975 to $48 billion in 1996. (Part of these increases was, of course, attributable to inflation: a 1996 dollar has only about one quarter the purchasing power of a 1975 dollar.) Paul Martin, Minister of Finance in the Liberal administration which took office in 1993, broke decisively with his predecessors; firmly resolved to reduce and eventually eliminate federal deficits, he carried out drastic cuts in government spending, of magnitudes hitherto assumed to be inconceivable, and promised more to come.

Since 1975, Canadas unemployment rate has never been less than 7 per cent; there have never been fewer than a million Canadians without work. Whichever party was in power, the deficit was the primary concern of the Minister of Finance; to keep it from increasing, or at least to minimize its increase, every one refrained from adopting stimulative policies that would have generated jobs-- despite the promise of "Jobs, Jobs, Jobs" by party leaders in election campaigns. Ironically, the deficit reduction measures had feedback effects on the federal treasury and the economy at large that sharply reduced the extent to which they actually reduced the deficit or kept it from rising. Workers who lost their jobs contributed less tax revenue to the federal treasury and now drew from it through unemployment insurance or welfare: the large number of layoffs caused apprehension among persons who still had jobs, and also among business firms, causing them to spend and invest less, thereby further reducing the governments tax revenue.

Borrowing Abroad To Finance Deficits: The Negative Consequences

The governments mode of financing deficits was responsible for more unemployment, thereby aggravating a root cause of the deficit problem. A federal budget deficit is an amount of Canadian dollars: it is the difference between the number of dollars the government takes in through taxation and the number of dollars it spends on its various programs and obligations. To obtain the dollars it needs to cover a shortfall, it issues bonds which must be paid for in Canadian dollars. Those bonds can be bought by anyone in the world. The relatively high interest rates they carry-- reflecting the attempt of Canadian monetary authorities to curb inflation by tightening the money supply-- have made them attractive to foreign investors. To obtain the Canadian dollars with which payment to the Canadian government had to be made, foreigners sent over their respective currencies; Canada received large quantities of yen, marks, and U.S. dollars. The inflow of these foreign currencies raised the foreign exchange rate of the Canadian dollar and provided Canadians with purchasing power that could be used in Japan, Germany and the U.S. The consequence was that Canadians were able to buy more foreign goods and services than they earned through exports, and found the prices of foreign goods and services more attractive than the prices of similar Canadian goods and services. Canadians bought Toyotas, Nissans, and Mercedess in preference to Canadian-made Fords, Chryslers, and GM products; they went on vacations to Europe, Florida, and Hawaii, instead of to Canadian holiday resorts. The higher exchange rate of the Canadian dollar-- pushed up by the inflow of foreign money that was buying government bonds-- caused difficulty to Canadian exporters selling in international markets. Jobs were lost in major Canadian industries, with negative effects on the federal treasury. This mode of financing deficits-- selling bonds to foreigners-- has had the effect of causing the deficits to become larger.

Nor does the matter end here. Future Canadian governments will have to take money in taxation from future Canadians, to hand over as interest payment and principal repayment to foreign holders of its bonds. Through that taxation, the children and grandchildren of todays Canadians will pay for the foreign automobiles and the trips abroad that the current generation has been able to have, thanks to foreigners purchases of Canadian government bonds.

The Finance Ministers Questionable Presumptions

Finance Minister Martin has repeatedly emphasized that the National Debt is so threatening a burden for the country that its further growth must be closely curbed and eventually halted altogether; it is absolutely vital, therefore, to reduce, ultimately to zero, the budget deficits which make necessary the borrowing that adds to the National Debt. In his view, the best way to cut these deficits is to reduce government spending; even though these reductions in government spending put people out of work, they must be resolutely carried out to safeguard the national finances against impending disaster.

Both of these presumptions are sharply challengeable. The debt of our national government is not a burden on the country if it is owed to Canadians. The liability of the government, in the form of obligation to make future interest payments, is exactly matched and offset by the assets of Canadians in the form of entitlement to receive those payments. The countrys bottom line is unaffected by this equal addition of asset and liability. That truth was persuasively demonstrated half a century ago: despite the huge debt incurred by the Canadian government to the people of Canada in the years 1940-45, the Canadian economy prospered, as never before or since, in the three decades after 1945. Over three-quarters of the federal governments debt is owed today to Canadians and therefore constitutes no net burden on Canada. The portion that is owed to foreigners is a genuine burden on the country-- but one that should not have been incurred.

The federal deficit is the difference between the governments expenditure and revenue. It would be reduced, therefore, by an increase in spending which brought about a larger increase in revenue: a spending increase of 100 that caused revenue to increase by 110 would reduce the deficit by 10. Such a payoff has in fact, occurred in Canada, and on a very large scale. During the Great Depression of the 1930s, the federal government incurred a series of budget deficits, the consequence of low revenues and large expenditures on unemployment relief, both stemming from the depressed state of the economy. During the years 1940-45 the government spent astronomic amounts of money on the war effort, half obtained by borrowing, i.e. by deficit financing. During the three prosperous decades that followed the war, the government had a series of budget surpluses that more than equalled what it had borrowed during the depression and the war; i.e. thanks to the massive increase in its spending in 1940-45, the government was able to achieve a balanced budget over the 45-year period 1930-1974.

Job Generation by Government: the Pros and Cons

Basic principle and the historical record both declare that the federal government is capable of generating jobs, using funds obtained by the sale of its bonds to Canadians; and that the sale of bonds to foreigners is unnecessary and positively harmful. But while the government could institute programs to counter unemployment, without having to assume crushing financial burdens, there could still be legitimate objection to such an undertaking. Inflation might occur because the stimulation applied to the economy was excessive, because trade unions took advantage of full employment to insist on inflationary wage increases, because business firms took advantage to increase their profit margins. Spending programs, having been devised by politicians and administered by civil servants, would be characterized by political bias and bureaucratic bumbling. Initiatives undertaken for the benefit of some people would harm others: a bridge built to provide jobs for construction workers might divert traffic away from an established business community.

While these objections are formidable, they are not absolutely conclusive. The unemployment of over a million Canadians, a settled feature of the Canadian economy for the last two decades, constitutes such enormous economic waste and does such enormous social and personal harm that programs which substantially reduced it could be warranted, despite their own severe drawbacks: the badly flawed remedy may still be better than the terrible disease.

If 10 per cent of Canadas labor force are unemployed, then 90 per cent, an impressively high ratio, are employed. A considerable number of the people who have jobs are likely to be afraid, however, that they may lose them and be unable to get another; they, like the people who are unemployed, would welcome a government commitment to increase its spending and lower its taxation to generate jobs when more jobs were needed. Such a commitment would be warmly approved, as well, by those Canadians who, while not personally affected, regard unemployment as a grievous social problem that public authorities should determinedly deal with. There are a good many other Canadians, however, who, confident of being able to make their way in the world, oppose such government action on the grounds that it would not help them and might do them harm. Seeing no difference between debt owed by the Government of Canada to its own citizens and any other kind of debt, they regard all borrowing by the government as fiscally irresponsible, liable to precipitate an apocalyptic crash. They may object, on principle, to any government intervention in the economy; they may feel threatened by the greater danger of inflation, by the possibility of being victimized by some element in a stimulation program. Given the opposing views, both widely held, application of the governments fiscal powers to generate jobs is a political issue that is resolved by public authorities on the basis of political judgement.

For some years there has been a lobby within the United Church to sever its relationships with our world confessional families, the World Methodist Council (WMC) and the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC). The pressure to take this step may increase with pressing budget constraints in the General Council offices. The commitment of the United Church to global ecumenism means that we send well over a million dollars a year to the World Council of Churches (WCC) and its various programs; our gift also generates another half-million for WCC programs through matching CIDA grants. However, our annual support for the WARC is only $5000, and for the WMC $1000!

Does it matter whether we belong to world confessional bodies? I think it does. These associations, modest though they be, serve to remind us whence we came, and are an encouragement to nurture our roots in the Reformed and Wesleyan confessions. Some years back, the metaphor of "roots and wings" was much in evidence to describe the balance we seek between security and adventure, tradition and experiment. It is arguable that in the senior courts of the church, and in much of our theological reflection, we usually err on the side of wings. If we dont tend our roots, who will we be in conversation with, and what will we have to contribute? In a recent survey conducted with a view to setting priorities for their general synod and national offices, Anglicans found that Anglican identity was among their eight key categories. We dont have an equivalent survey, but my guess is that in a religiously plural world many of us are asking what it means to be "United Church".

One of the privileges Ive enjoyed during the course of over twenty-five years in pastoral ministry has been participation as a United Church representative in the network of WARC. The actual place of involvement has been in a regional body of WARC, the Caribbean and North American Area Council (CANAAC), which is comprised of the majority of Reformed churches in North America and the Caribbean (including the Presbyterian Church in Canada and the United Church of Canada). This Council meets annually, the most recent meeting having taken place in Nashville in May, 1995. It engaged the theme of an "Ecclesiology that Feeds, Frees and Serves".

The choice of this theme underscored the restlessness that almost all of us feel with our church courts: we spend too much time on making the institution work (and frequently it is frustrating time), and not nearly enough time on equipping ourselves for discipleship in mission. Books by Peter Hodgson (Revisioning the Church:

Ecclesial Freedom in the New Church) and Letty Russell (Church in the Round) were points of departure for the discussion.

Notable Canadian theologians like Douglas Hall and Pamela Dickey Young have represented the United Church on the Councils Committee on Theology, giving other CANAAC members particular cause to be thankful for our contribution. The most recent focus, during a period in which I served as the Committees chair, has been on "Confessing the Christian Faith in the Reformed Churches Today". As the committee paused to review its work on peace and war, and to choose a new direction, members were drawn to ponder the new context in which all the American churches find themselves. Denominational identity and loyalty have weakened considerably, and many people seek out whichever local church seems to meet their needs and that of their children. Christian parents worry about whether their own children will have faith. Criticism of customary forms of communication alerts us to the need to use language and images that are far more accessible in order to get a hearing from those within and without the Church. In all of this, the shaping realities of religious pluralism, environmental peril, and Christian dis-establishment are seen to play their part. As the Committee considered all these issues, the challenge began to emerge: what is essential in confessing Christian faith for us today, and how might we do a better job of communicating it to the present generation?

We knew from the beginning that there is no such thing as "the Reformed faith", only the Christian faith as it is confessed in the Reformed churches. We agreed that it is the nature of the Reformed confession to be catholic and not sectarian; in a word, to be ecumenical: to acknowledge our need for the insight of others and to make our confession as an act of mutual service within the one body of Christ. We then conceived our task as a fresh encounter with the curriculum of Christian doctrine, ordered on a Trinitarian basis. Readers may get a sense of the scope of the papers received over five years, the diversity of the participants, and the shape of the venture, by looking over the following table of contents:
 

I. God, Creation and Fulfilment

1. The Problem of Omnipotence: A Theological Exploration of the Meaning of Power -- Anna Case-Winters of McCormick Seminary, Chicago (U.S. Presbyterian)

2. A Reformed Perspective on the Integrity of Creation: Problems and Promise -- Christopher Kaiser of Western Seminary, Holland, Mich. (Reformed Church in America)

3. Reverence for Life as a Basis for Ethical Decisions -- William Ingraham (Cumberland Presbyterian)

4. Human Suffering and Faith in God -- Peter Wyatt (United Church of Canada)

5. John Calvins Teaching about Eternal Life -- Charles Raynal (U.S. Presbyterian)
 

II Christ, Sin and Salvation

6. The Humanity and Divinity of Jesus Christ: An Attempt at a Reformed Reformulation -- Pamela Dickey Young of Queens Theological College (United Church of Canada)

7. Christology and the Worlds Religions: Reformed Resources for Planetary Religious Dialogue -- Thomas Parker of McCormick Seminary (U.S. Presbyterian)

8. Broken Bread, Broken World, Broken Church: The Lords Supper and Issues of Unity among Christians -- Richard Harrison of Vanderbilt Divinity School (Disciples of Christ)

9. Confessing the Christian Faith in Reformed Churches through Baptism -- Keith Watkins of Christian Theological Seminary, Indianapolis (Disciples of Christ)

10. The New Testament, the Holy and Reformed Identity -- Stephen Faris of Knox College (Canadian Presbyterian)

11. Sin and Salvation: A "Third World" Perspective -- Ashley Smith (United Church of Jamaica and Grand Cayman)
 

III Spirit, Mission and Church

12. The Cosmic Work of the Holy Spirit -- John Bolt of Calvin Seminary, Grand Rapids (Christian Reformed)

13. Praying as Reformed Christians: Prospects from the Psalms -- Steven Parrish of Memphis Seminary (Cumberland Presbyterian)

14. A Reformed Approach to the Bible -- Paul Hammer of Colgate-Rochester Seminary (United Church of Christ)

15. Reformed Tradition and the Caribbean Experience -- Harold Sitihal (Presbyterian Church of Trinidad and Tobago)

16. Church Growth: The Case of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) -- Newell Williams of Christian Seminary (Disciples of Christ)

17. The Dimensions of the Spirit and the Designs of our Creativity -- Carlos Camps of the Protestant Seminary, Matanzas, Cuba (Presbyterian Church of Cuba)

18. Contemporary Reflections on Ecclesiology -- Margrethe Brown (U.S. Presbyterian)

To give a small taste of the content of these papers, the first may be taken as an example. The author begins with the experienced problem of apparently pointless suffering and then attempts possible definitions of omnipotence, raising questions as to whether God literally can do anything (including the logically contradictory) and in what way genuine human freedom can be thought to co-exist with a divine monopoly on power. She then touches base with the tradition in summaries of the teaching of Calvin and Barth, ultimately finding both too dependent on a conception of power "in the mode of domination and control".

Taking her lead from leading process and feminist thinkers, Prof. Case-Winters defines power as the two-way "capacity to influence and be influenced", and sees divine power characterized not by its monopoly but by its unsurpassability. Then she suggests the metaphor of "God carrying the world as a child in her womb" to modify our understanding of the transcendence and operation of divine power. Through this image (to which one can scarcely do justice in a brief paragraph), Case-Winters affirms profound connection and interdependence between God and the world. Her paper is exemplary of our work both in its respect for the tradition and in its insistence that contemporary experience and thought can offer us constructive theological insight.

As the Committee on Theology received and discussed these papers, members became increasingly aware of the way in which we were dealing either explicitly or implicitly with questions of Reformed identity. Why this particular starting point? What is the particular vision of faith that has been nurtured over the centuries in Reformed theology? 'What aspects of our particular contribution have stood the test of time well, and what have not? What present-day insights need to be incorporated into the historic understanding of our faith? Are there good reasons for resisting the pull toward the generic congregationalism of the "seeker church"?

As we were facing up to some of the identity questions, so, too, were others. In the World Alliance at large, one particular concern generated the call for a conference to review the status and import of our global, bilateral dialogues. The uncomfortable sense was abroad that we had achieved considerable consensus in all of them -- with Methodists, Catholics, Lutherans, Orthodox, Anglicans, Mennonites, and Baptists -- because in each case we turned toward our partners a slightly different face. With the Orthodox, we were robustly patristic and Trinitarian, and with the Mennonites socially progressive and even pacifist. So who are we really if we are so flexible in presenting ourselves? Just adept ecumenists, or a people whose own raison detre is uncertain?

Again, when CANAAC met in concert with its hemispheric neighbour, The Association of Presbyterian and Reformed Churches in Latin America, we discovered a new context in which the question of Reformed identity was being asked. In South America, the growth of Protestantism is largely due to the Pentecostal churches. Though pleased to learn that there were as many as a million Reformed Christians in Latin America (at least twice as many as had been assumed), delegates still asked: What is that in comparison to the magnitude of the Roman Catholic Church, and to the spectacular growth of the Pentecostals? Is there a point, our new friends were asking, in perpetuating so comparatively insignificant a witness?

For members of the United Church of Canada, such questions are more than germane. After more than seventy years as a united Church, are there any longer reasons to consider ourselves either Reformed or Wesleyan? Arent we just "United", and isnt our real confessional connection with other united and uniting churches in the world, a connection that is nurtured best through the World Council of Churches? Moreover, as we enter a century in which inter-faith relationships will become increasingly important, isnt it both perverse and counter-productive to think about confessional identity? Wouldnt that lead inevitably to a narrow (and implicitly triumphalistic) confessionalism?

There are dangerous waters to be negotiated here, since attention to historic confessions may breed a renewed sense of denominational pride and tempt us to throw up walls of a fortress mentality. Yet there are good reasons for thinking that openness to inter-faith dialogue and deepened awareness of ones own spiritual identity are not mutually exclusive goods. In fact, this is what proponents of inter-faith dialogue often maintain in responding to criticism that such dialogue can only water faith down. In dialogue, all of us bring gifts to the table, the gifts of our particular tradition: authentic encounter in dialogue doesnt ask me to be less Hindu or Jewish or Christian, but promises to make me a better and more aware participant in my own faith. Dialogue, properly understood, should generate not only new respect and co-operation among the religions, but also push each faith to rediscover itself at its best. If inter-faith dialogue is ultimately strengthened by a strong sense of particular identity among the participants, then confessional awareness, together with its revision and enrichment, need not be seen as a block to Christian ecumenical dialogue, but actually as a pre-requisite for it. As in the case of intimate human relationships, the soundest are those in which all partners bring to it a strong and mature awareness of their own identity. Thus, if it is true that dialogue results not in watering down, but in enriching distinctive faith-stances, then why shouldnt a strong sense of confessional identity be an ally of dialogue from the beginning? To know who we are as Reformed Christians can actually serve our encounter with different faiths.

There is plenty of "tradition" in the United Church that is not helpful; that is, plenty of inertia by which we unreflectively insist on doing what weve always done. We need the wings of imagination to break such bonds. But tradition positively understood is the transmission from generation to generation of the apostolic witness to Gods creative and redemptive work in the eternal Christ. Reformed Christians may not believe in "apostolic succession" as a matter of continuity with an historic episcopate, but we do believe in the apostolic succession as a matter of being in continuity with the teaching of the apostles as recorded in Scripture.

What does it mean, then, to be Reformed in this closing decade of the twentieth century? It means now, as in the sixteenth century, that we test the fidelity of our belief and our mission by the Scriptures. While some churches test fidelity according to Tradition with a capital "T", we have the privilege and responsibility of encountering the biblical message afresh in each generation. In the Bible, we find Gods word to be not a static initial deposit in a constantly accumulating sum, but manna, fresh every morning, a dynamic power in our lives, humbling, reconciling and remaking us. With our Puritan forebears, we believe that "God has more truth to break forth from his Word".

It means now, as in the sixteenth century, that we put our trust in the sovereignty of a gracious God. The doctrines of election and predestination only arose as buttresses to the truth that finally we are judged and saved not by our own achievements or failures but by a sovereign power whose name is love. With Paul, we have a blessed assurance that "neither death nor life..., nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord".

It means now, as in the sixteenth century, that we acknowledge Gods sovereignty over all of life, and that the Christian witness in and to our society is aimed at transformation. In a world increasingly vulgar and violent we are called to attest a world made new, a world of respect and mutuality where all who bear Gods image have a place at the banquet table. We share this hope with all creatures "groaning in travail", believing that the creation itself came into being through the Word and will find its completion in the restoration of all things through the Word made flesh.

These convictions, of course, are held by many Christians of different kinds, but we in the United Church are the kind of Christians we are partly because our Reformed forebears treated these convictions as matters of eternal consequence. We owe other emphases in our Christian faith and life to Methodist forebears; but that is another story. My belief is that we need the testimony of our forebears so that we will have the balance of both wings and roots.

Small wonder that things Reformed have come to carry such meaning for me. The truth is that I stumbled into them. Born into a Methodist family-line, my parents happened to choose a church in a new community that had been formerly Presbyterian. And when I came to study theology at Union Seminary, N.Y., that bastion of progressive theology, it happened that in the teaching rotation for introductory systematics, it was Paul Lehmanns turn. And while he presented it back-to-front (Book IV to Book I), Calvins Institutes was assigned as the basic text. And the rest, one might be tempted to say, is destiny.

1. "Foreword", A Covenant Challenge to Our Broken World (Caribbean and North American Area Council of the WARC, 1982) p. 9.

Burns poem "Holy Willies Prayer" lampoons a Presbyterian elder who believes that he is one of those predestined to salvation, while others are predestined to hell, and who condemns other people for their swearing, drinking, dancing, and singing, while excusing his own adulteries. Burns satire has become the conventional wisdom about "Calvinism". Not all of what is problematic about the Calvinist movement, however, is attributable to John Calvin himself. While there are elements of his thought we would not want to repeat uncritically to-day, I propose here to explore some of the themes of his theology, in the conviction that, though there may be some dross, there is much fine ore.

Creation, Fall and Natural Law

Calvin affirms the goodness of the created order. The manifestation of "Gods inestimable wisdom, power, justice, and goodness" in the natural order is one of Calvins most consistent themes. "The universe is for us a sort of mirror in which we can contemplate God, who is otherwise invisible". Calvin affirms what is said in Genesis 1:31, where God "put his stamp of approval on what had come forth from himself", and says that the passage encourages the faithful to "take pious delight in the works of God". The study of astronomy, medicine, and other natural sciences are valued, since people "who have either quaffed or even tasted the liberal arts penetrate with their aid far more deeply into the secrets of the divine wisdom". While the ability to perceive accurately the Creator in the creation has been distorted by the Fall, those whose eyes have been trained by the "spectacles" of Scripture can overcome this distortion and see clearly that the created order is a "theatre" in which we can behold the Creators glory.

In Calvin there is never a simple opposition between material and spiritual. The physical creation is important for human life, because we too are physical in nature, though always the more important aspect is that in it the goodness of the Creator can be perceived. The contemplation of creation, the study and enjoyment of the natural beauty of the universe, are therefore subordinated to the contemplation of the Creator who is revealed in the creature. At times Calvins emphasis on this subordination assumes rhetorical forms that border on asceticism; he frequently repeats Platos characterization of the body as "prison house", and in his discussion of the future life he says that "there is no middle ground between these two: either the world must become worthless to us or hold us bound by intemperate love of it". But it is clear that such language must be understood within the belief that the creation is always ordered toward God as its natural end, and any disruption of this ordering is a sign of its corruption. Enjoyment of the material order is always intended to serve the goal of piety. To delight in sensual pleasure without moving at once to awe and gratitude is at best to commit the Stoic mistake of confusing the creature with the Creator, and at worst to fall into the Epicurean error of denying there is a God at all.

Despite the corrupting influence of the Fall, Calvin taught that God has preserved something of the Imago Dei in human beings. While the independent knowledge of God has been wholly extinguished, knowledge of earthly things such as "government, household management, all mechanical skills and the liberal arts" is more intact. One of the most important aspects of the remnant image of God is the conscience, which allows us to discern the need for an ordered society, and to distinguish good and evil, equity and injustice, order and disorder.

Since man is by nature a social animal, he tends through natural instinct to foster and preserve society. Consequently we observe that there exists in all mens minds universal impressions of a certain civic fair dealing and order.

For this reason, Calvins writing is permeated not only with references to Scripture and prominent theologians like Augustine, Chrysostom and Bernard of Clairvaux, but with allusions to classical writers like Seneca (about whom Calvin wrote his first book), Cicero, Plato and Aristotle.

The Christian Life

Calvins thought holds several ideas about human and divine responsibility in tension: (1) while he believes that Gods providence orders and directs all things, there is a place for human effort that does not limit Gods providence but is taken up by it; (2) faith is the gift and work of the Holy Spirit, "revealed to our minds and sealed upon our hearts" by that Spirit, but it still requires human perseverance and effort; (3) salvation is the free gift given to the elect and withheld from the reprobate, and cannot be attained by any human effort or work, and yet is something to be hoped for and aspired after. It lies beyond the scope of this article to untangle the web of all these issues, but it is vital to grasp the centrality for Calvin of moral effort in the Christian life. In one passage, Calvin brings together this unrelenting call for holiness with a wonderfully realistic and compassionate assessment of its difficulty:

I do not insist that the moral life of a Christian man breathe nothing but the very gospel, yet this ought to be desired, and we must strive toward it. But I do not so strictly demand evangelical perfection that I would not acknowledge as a Christian one who has not yet attained it. For thus all would be excluded from the church, since no one is found who is not far removed from it, while many have advanced a little toward it whom it would nevertheless be unjust to cast away.

What then? Let that target be set before our eyes at which we are earnestly to aim. Let that goal be appointed toward which we should strive and struggle....

No one shall set out so inauspiciously as not daily to make some headway, though it be slight. Therefore let us not cease so to act that we may make some unceasing progress in the way of the Lord. And let us not despair at the slightness of our success; for even though attainment may not correspond to desire, when today outstrips yesterday the effort is not lost. Only let us look toward our mark with sincere simplicity and aspire to our goal; not fondly flattering ourselves, nor excusing our own evil deeds, but with continuous effort striving toward this end: that we may surpass in goodness until we attain to goodness itself.

Calvin teaches that the quest for holiness is not the basis, but the outcome of reconciliation with God. "The object of regeneration... is to manifest in the life of believers a harmony and agreement between Gods righteousness and their obedience, and thus to confirm the adoption they have received as sons." This might be taken as an anticipation of the later Calvinist belief that the holiness of the Christian life might provide a confirmation of their election, but it seems clear that for Calvin, holiness arises out of assurance about it, rather out of a search for it. The steadfast assurance of "Gods benevolence toward us" allows us to conform to the pattern of Christ in denying ourselves. It is because we are already Gods that we can set aside concern for our own well-being and devote ourselves to Gods will and the welfare of our neighbours.
 

Stewardship

Calvins understanding of stewardship of life and possessions seeks the balance I noted earlier between affirmation of the world and ordering it to Gods glory and will. An important example of this occurs in his commentary on John 12:25: "Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life".

Life should not be hated as such, because it is regarded rightly as among Gods chief blessings.... it is not in itself wrong to love this life, provided we walk its course with our eyes upon our ultimate end. We love life rightly when we remain in it according to Gods intention for us, and are ready to leave it according to his will....

In an important chapter in his Institutes of the Christian Religion on "How We Must Use the Present Life and Its Helps" Calvin suggests a use of food and possessions which achieves a balance between abstinence and indulgence. He then goes on to other things:

Although the invention of the lyre and of other musical instruments serves our enjoyment and our pleasures rather than our needs, it ought not on that account to be judged of no value; still less should it be condemned. Pleasure is to be condemned only when it is not combined with reverence for God and not related to the common welfare of society. But music by its nature is adapted to rouse our devotion to God and to aid the well-being of man; we need only avoid enticements to shame, and empty entertainments which keep men from better enjoyments and are simply a waste of time.

Selfish indulgence, on the other hand, can be held in check by the requirements of neighbour love. The wealthy should therefore live moderately, even frugally, in order that their wealth may serve the dictates of love:

The lawful use of all benefits consists in a liberal and kindly sharing of them with others. No surer rule and no more valid exhortation to keep it could be devised than when we are taught that all the gifts we possess have been bestowed by God and entrusted to us on condition that they be distributed for our neighbours benefit.

A pious attitude toward possessions acknowledges that it is Gods providence which ordains poverty and wealth, which keeps the poor from complaint or despair, and helps the rich to recognize that their wealth is not given them for their own use alone. Wealth is given by God, though it is given for sharing. For Calvin, interestingly enough, the danger of wealth is not its corrupting influence on the individual spiritual life of the wealthy, as had been taught since the time of Clement of Alexandria (AD 150-220), but its corrupting influence on the life of the community, which includes both rich and poor. The spiritual health of its citizens is in large part dependent on the quality of that community life, especially in its material dimensions. In a passage which bears striking similarity to the better-known quotation of Karl Marx, "To each according to his needs, from each according to his abilities", Calvin writes that "God wills that there be proportion and equality among us, that is, each man is to provide for the needy according to the extent of his means so that no man has too much and no man has too little".

Vocation

Calvin follows Luther in placing great importance on the calling of all Christians to exercise a divine vocation. It is not just clergy, and members of religious orders, who have a divine vocation. Rather, the position a person holds in family and society is that persons calling and entails responsibilities and limitations which are appointed by God. "Each individual has his own kind of living assigned to him by the Lord as a sort of sentry post so that he may not heedlessly wander about throughout life." Moreover, peoples faithfulness to their calling is a part of their faithfulness to God: "...we know that men were created for the express purpose of being employed in labour of various kinds, and that no sacrifice is more pleasing to God, than when every man applies diligently to his own calling, and endeavours to live in such a manner as to contribute to the general advantage. As Robert Paul points out:

Calvins doctrine of Vocation is... the necessary complement of his doctrine of Election. The doctrine of Election by itself emphasizes a Christians separation from the world, and can be expounded in such a way that it presents the Elect as the special favourites of the Almighty. But Vocation shows that there is no Election without responsibility, so that Election is simply the obverse side, the "Godward side" as it were, of the Christians calling.

This doctrine is important to Calvin for three additional reasons. (1) It helps maintain order by reinforcing that distinctions in society are laid down by God. Thus, it is important for Calvins teaching on politics that private citizens do not interfere in government and magistrates understand themselves as Gods deputies with special responsibilities and duties which are forbidden other Christians. Despite the power of his exhortations for the rich to live frugally, therefore, he is not an egalitarian. He insists that people of different rank keep their place. (2) The doctrine of Vocation offers consolation that those whose calling involves "sordid and base tasks" may know that their calling is "very precious in Gods sight", and that all may find relief from the "cares, labours, troubles,... discomforts, vexations, weariness, and anxieties" of their particular calling through the knowledge that bearing them is the will of God. (3) It provides guidance for living out ones calling if ones responsibilities and expectations from others are clearly laid out.

This last point has an important consequence for Calvins view of relations between employers and their employees. Calvin insists on the importance of fair treatment. In his commentary on Jeremiah 22:13 he argues for the necessity of a just wage: "nothing can be more cruel than to deprive the poor of the fruit of their labour, who from their labour derive their daily support." That concern is raised again in a commentary on Deuteronomy 25:4: "You shall not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain". While affirming that "men are required to practice justice even in dealing with animals", Calvin follows Paul (I Cor. 9:10) in interpreting it also to mean that "God requires labourers not be defrauded of their just pay.... If animals are entitled to their food much less should we wait for men to plague us before we give them their rights." In a discussion of the story of Jacob and Laban he insightfully asserts the need for equitable legislation and contracts to guide the employment relationship.

Men seldom err in general principles and therefore, with one mouth, confess that every man ought to receive what is his due; but as soon as they descend to their own affairs, perverse self-love blinds them.... Therefore for the purpose of cherishing concord, firm contracts are necessary which may prevent injustice on one side or the other.

The emphasis on vocation is therefore rooted in an organic vision of society in which the division of labour is for the benefit of all rather than for the enrichment of some.

If we merely refrain from all evil-doing, we are far from satisfying God. who has bound men mutually together so that they may strive to help one another to get ahead by counselling and assisting one another. There is not the slightest doubt that God commands generosity, and kindness, and the other duties which give warmth to human society. Therefore, if we are not to be condemned as thieves by God, we must seek our brothers advantage no less than our own.

Discipline

We have already seen evidence of one of Calvins more important emphases on the role of the Church as a disciplined community. Election was not an individual matter, but a calling to vocation as members of a society of the elect, who are united in a visible community governed according to the ordinances of Christ. Calvin therefore tried to establish a pattern of Church governance that conformed to that ancient Church described in the Scriptures. This pattern included the establishment of a consistory, composed of elected elders and Genevas pastors. This body was charged with overseeing the moral and spiritual health of the people of the city. Calvin saw discipline as the "sinews" of the Church; it acts as "a bridle to restrain and tame those who rage against the doctrine of Christ; or like a spur to arouse those of little inclination; and sometimes also like a fathers rod to chastise mildly and with the gentleness of Christs Spirit those who have more seriously lapsed."

Discipline was therefore the responsibility of the whole Church. Every member, in addition to monitoring their own conduct and accepting admonishment where needed, should stand willing to admonish a brother or sister. In the case of public sins, such admonitions were to be handled by public rebuke by the Church, but in the case of "secret sins", a series of steps based on the commandment of Christ (Mt. 18:15-17) was prescribed. Members were encouraged to report unbecoming conduct to the pastors and elders, who were charged to offer private reprimands for a first offence. For a second offence, the person was to be admonished in the presence of witnesses, while persistent offenders were to be called before the consistory for more formal admonishment. One who perseveres in wickedness was to be excommunicated, though even that was seen as corrective and temporary. Calvins concern in all of this seems to have been to proceed cautiously in order to encourage repentance and avoid provoking stubborn reaction. "As a moderate punishment shames and humbles the sinners, harshness drives them to despair, so that putting aside all shame they abandon themselves to a corrupt life."

The civil authority of a community also had an important role to play in this discipline. Governance of a community through a co-operative balance of power between Church and state was generally assumed in 16th century Europe. Calvin emphasizes the important role of the civil authority in moral and religious affairs in the concluding chapter of the Institutes.

Civil government has its appointed end so long as we live among men, to cherish and protect the outward worship of God, to defend sound doctrine of piety, and the position of the Church, to adjust our life to the society of men, to form our social behaviour to civil righteousness, to reconcile us with one another, and to promote general peace and tranquility.

There is clearly none of the modern concern for freedom of religion, freedom of speech, or freedom of conscience. Heresy was considered to be not just a Church matter but also a civil one, and the burning of Servetus for heresy was carried out by the civil authorities. The regulation of religious and moral conformity by the civil authority was assumed to be essential to social health. The role of the Church in teaching religious and moral norms, assessing new and contentious issues in the light of Scripture and tradition, and exhorting both magistrates and populace to adherence to such norms, was just as essential.

Conclusion

If space allowed, there are several issues addressed in this paper that I would like to discuss in the light of contemporary ethical questions, offering a critical appraisal of some aspects of Calvins outlook, but that will have to be left to another time. I will conclude by affirming that Calvin is one of the great theologians of the Church, one of the mighty cloud of witnesses, who with intellectual brilliance and spiritual insight proclaimed the Gospel to his generation. His generation is not ours, and our proclamation cannot be identical with his. But if we want to see further than he, we would do well to stand on his shoulders

Editors Note: Readers of Touchstone will remember Foster Freeds article in the September 1995 issue, "An Axiom For Interfaith Dialogue: You Will Not Bear False Witness". You may find it helpful, however, to have that issue of the journal at hand as you go through the next two pieces. The first is by Paul Newman, who is offering some critical comments on Fosters article, and the second is a response by Foster to Pauls comments.
 

Love and Truth in Interfaith Dialogue by Paul Newman

Foster Freeds article is a fine reflection on an essential aspect of interfaith relations. The ninth commandment is perhaps not more important than commandments six, seven, eight, and ten, but it is especially relevant in interfaith relations, as Freed very clearly and helpfully shows. I take issue with Freed only on his statement that truth is the "paramount" concern for Christians. I will come back to this in a moment.

The ninth commandment is especially relevant in interfaith relations, as Freed says, because of its implications that (a) interfaith relations must be personalized, (b) the beliefs and traditions of other religions must not be lied about, and © a commitment to truth requires an evangelical (i.e. gospel-telling) approach in interfaith dialogue. All of this is true.

The ninth commandment and the above implications are especially urgent if one emphasizes the primacy of truth in religion. It is so easy to distort, discount or dismiss others truths when one has "absolute truth" of ones own or even if one simply wants to find a rationalization for regarding others beliefs as inferior-- something which human beings with their distinctive and different races, colours, cultures, clans, tribes, and nations are typically liable to do.

Lying about religious truths is notoriously difficult to prove and, consequently, eminently easy to get away with if one has an ulterior motive for doing so. Lying about other religions is not only a major temptation, it is a major hazard in cross-cultural communication -- a hazard which can occur even if the intentions on all sides are charitable.

With good intentions, albeit with improper naivete, one can transpose the terms and descriptions of truth from other religions into ones own terms, and thereby falsify what is said about the other religion. Consequently, an essential implication of the ninth commandment for interfaith dialogue is that the terms and descriptions others use to explain their own beliefs and traditions must be respected and not be subjected to a Procrustean translation into ones own terminology. Freed hints at this implication in what he says about personalizing interfaith dialogue, but I suggest that his primary commitment to the abstract ideas of his tradition impedes the possibility of really respecting differing or alternative expressions of truth.

I suggest that prioritizing ones own conceptual truth above even love, thinking that our Christian doctrine is of "paramount" importance, is unbiblical, unChristlike, and not conducive to reconciliation and peace with justice in a pluralistic world. I do not, of course, dismiss the importance of truth. I am, rather, saying that truth claims must be seen in light of the requirement to "walk humbly with God". Such conceptual humility, it seems to me, is a corollary of the First Commandment, not merely an implication of modem historical consciousness. Human words, ideas, doctrines and "truths" are finite and limited, especially in their capacity to express the infinite mysteries of God. They can so easily diverge from the Reality of God, and become expressions of some "other God", thereby breaking the First Commandment.

Furthermore, wanting to be faithful to the One God is also no guarantee that ones words and doctrines are, in fact, faithful. Claiming orthodoxy too strenuously is not to have appropriate humility before God. The Bible has a firm grip on the otherness of God.

The Second Commandment must also be a theological axiom, and its clear implication, it seems to me, is to acknowledge the historical and cultural relativity and limitations of our representations, in words or otherwise, of God.

While the Bible has a firm grip on the otherness of God, it also has a firm grip on the primacy of love. It seems clear to me that Jesus consistently affirmed that good attitudes and actions that flow from them are more desirable to God and more reflective of God than "true" statements of belief in themselves, or even "right" ethical injunctions. Good attitudes, or "attitude-virtues" as Donald Evans calls them[1], are the fruit of the Spirit and the substance of the spiritual life that constitutes human life in the Kingdom of God. Attitude-virtues are not historically or culturally specific in the same way that ideas or doctrines or "truths" are. The fruit of the Spirit can be profoundly present in people of any culture, race, tradition or place, even though the language or ideas of people differ widely. Idea systems can affect attitude-virtues negatively or positively as can be clearly seen, for example, in a society which espouses the ideology of apartheid or patriarchy. But even a male chauvinist believer in apartheid may still be able to reflect something of the glory of Gods Spirit. His idea system may be seriously misguided, but he is still not entirely excluded from the presence of the Holy Spirit.

This idea or claim about the primacy of love and other attitude-virtues, of course, poses a question of truth as any other doctrine does. Its truthfulness can be claimed by Christians by appeal to the life and teaching of Jesus and His scriptural tradition, which is the paramount authority for Christian truth claims. But it is not truthfulness per se that justifies this or any other idea system. Idea systems are ultimately justified by grace, through faith. That is to say, they are Godly and in keeping with the First and Second Commandments as well as the two Great Commandments of Jesus, only if God is present in them as the Spirit of grace. Their prime criteria for validity or veracity are whether they embody, reflect and actualize love, justice, mercy, kindness, humility, respect and all other dimensions of grace. In the event that ideas do serve the Spirit in this way, and are part of the reconciliation of the world which is the mission of God through Christ and the Spirit, then the ideas may be called the truth despite their cultural and conceptual diversity.

It is not our cultural truths that claim our allegiance above everything else. What claims our allegiance as followers of Jesus is the pain and injustice of the world embodied in our neighbours. The hunger of the world is the "name of the game", so to speak, for followers of Jesus, and we share our evangel about Christ and the Kingdom of God and the Holy Spirit "as one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread" (D.T. Niles).

Because we are beggars, too, with beggarly words and doctrines, we listen to "beggars" of other cultures and other traditions for news of "bread". We are convinced from our past experience that Jesus and his faith, as contained in the Bible, are the Bread of Heaven, and we will test other bread by this measurement before we eat anything that is offered to us. After some experience of interfaith dialogue, we will discover that bread of heaven can come to us through the limited, culturally diverse words, and especially actions, of people of other religions or perhaps of no religion. And we will have an expanded view of the glory of God, which, according to the Westminster Catechism, is humanitys "chief end". And we may walk more humbly than before with our God. And we will enjoy the wider glory of God.

Is such a stance as this exclusivist, inclusivist, or pluralist? These terms are not adequate to designate an authentically Christian or biblical stance in interfaith dialogue. Each of them has some validity, but none is completely adequate. The First Commandment appears to be quite clearly exclusivist. The Spirit is pluralistic that goes to the ends of the earth, reflecting on all human beings, and constituting their humanity as mirrors of God. When Christians discuss truth or validity in people of other faith by testing them by the Spirit of Jesus, we are being inclusivist. In this, Foster Freeds preference for inclusivism is appreciable. All faith traditions cannot be claimed to be equally true or valid if we hold to the Lordship of Jesus as we do. The same is the case for Muslims who test truth by the Koran, or for Sikhs who follow the Guru Granth Sahib. No one can avoid having ones own priorities and sticking to them. It is still possible, however, to acknowledge independent validity in other cultural traditions or to affirm some validity in others just as there is only some validity in ours. God is bigger than all diverse ideas or traditions, including the idea that there is no God. The claim for Gods otherness and universality both expresses and challenges inclusivism.

I agree with Foster Freed that the validation of interfaith dialogue should and can be found in our own gospel tradition. It is clear, however, that some Christian will not find it there, or find it at all. It is possible that doctrine can pre-empt and preclude dialogue with others or respect for others. Hence, I have some reservations about David Lochheads claim that doctrine need not be altered for dialogue to take place[2]. People certainly do not have to become liberal academics to enter into interfaith dialogue, but sometimes their exclusivist doctrines need to be challenged for the sake of enabling dialogue -- i.e. genuine listening and telling -- to begin. The doctrine that upheld the Inquisition was, and is, incompatible with dialogue. So we do need to examine our doctrines to see if they are impediments to dialogue. They can be as sinful as any of our other actions. Lochhead is certainly right about the dialogical imperative in Christianity; but this imperative itself cannot be acted upon by those who deny it in principle.

In conclusion, to give theological doctrines clear primacy above love and other attitude-virtues is to separate theology from ethics and vice versa. Actions and attitudes, good or bad, are as theological or not as words or doctrinal beliefs are. There are many stories and sayings of Jesus which indicate his giving priority to actions above words, although words are important as well because they are actions, too. Sticks and stones will break your bones, and words can also hurt you. Prior to sticks, stones, or words are the attitudes brought to the situation. And the attitudes, if virtuous, are the very presence of the Holy Spirit who actualizes the reigning of God, the substance of the gospel of Jesus and the Great Commandment on which hang all the law and the prophets.
 

Truth and Love in Interfaith Dialogue by Foster FreedI

 It may be inevitable that exchanges such as this will tend to highlight areas of divergence. I wish to acknowledge at the outset, therefore, the considerable agreement between Paul Newman and myself, especially concerning the need for Christians to adhere to a standard of strict truthfulness in their dealings with people of other faiths.

That having been said, I must confess my surprise when I learned of Newmans qualms regarding my original articles emphasis on questions of truth, especially the "conceptual" truth of the Christian faith. It was certainly not my intention to suggest that truth is more important than love. On the contrary, I had hoped to make it clear that love and truth are in some sense inseparable. Each plays a distinctive role in the proper unfolding of the Christian life, and each has its place in the proper ordering of Christian community. As I argued at the time: "… while there may well be nothing colder than truth without love, life teaches us that there is nothing more likely to prove destructive to human wellbeing than love without truth." I remain convinced of the soundness of that statement and regard it as neither "unbiblical" nor "unChristlike".

If I understand Paul Newman correctly, the heart of his argument lies in the assertion that "good attitudes and actions that flow from them are more desirable to God and more reflective of God than 'true statements of belief in themselves or even 'right ethical injunctions". While I would never wish to separate truth from love, let alone elevate truth above love, it appears to be Newmans intention to drive a wedge between them. To claim that the Bible has a "firm grip" on the "primacy of love" is to put forward a conviction from which few Christians would wish to dissent. I wish to argue, however, that the wall Newman seems to erect between "good attitudes and actions" on the one hand, and "ideas or doctrines or 'truths" on the other, is ultimately unsustainable.

 There is something inherently self-defeating about advancing a truth-claim which, in effect, disparages the special dignity of truth. And I think Newman concedes as much when he says that "the idea or claim about the primacy of love… poses… a question of truth as any other doctrine does". Indeed, Newmans own theological output over the years has directly challenged many of the convictions that are at the heart of Christian orthodoxy. Surely his desire to challenge those convictions amounts to a tacit admission that they are important: convictions are worth challenging. As the title of Richard Weavers famous essay reminds us: "Ideas Have Consequences". Competing truth claims are, and need to be, vigorously engaged both inside and outside the Church. Why else would Paul Newman take issue with David Lochheads "claim that doctrine need not be altered for dialogue to take place"?[3] Newman counters that "exclusivist doctrines need to be challenged for the sake of enabling dialogue.., to begin".

Precisely. Ideas have consequences. And while Paul Newman and I will disagree as to which doctrines and which ideas need to be challenged for the sake of dialogue, we both recognize their importance. Thats why the Church must always be engaged in the process of refining its understanding of the truth, and why the painstaking process ought to be regarded as part of, rather than antithetical to, the primacy of love with which the Church has been charged. III

 Stanley Fish, hardly a paragon of Christian orthodoxy, argues in a recent article "Why We Cant All Just Get Along"[4] that the Church "cannot be unconcerned with the substantive worth and veracity of its assertions". I am reminded also of an article by Ivor Shapiro that appeared in the April, 1990 issue of Saturday Night. He was writing in the aftermath of the Victoria General Council, and he accused the United Church of having become the spiritual home not of pious believers but of reverent explorers. Let other churches flaunt their sacred bodies of doctrine and instruct their members in what to believe about sin and salvation, about the infallibility of the pope or the authority of the Bible. Doctrine, schmoctrine, says the United Church: in this church, it is acceptable not to know what to believe."[5]

At the time Shapiros article appeared, I was personally outraged and offended by it, believing it to be a terrible misrepresentation of the Victoria Council, and a grossly unfair caricature of the United Church. But watching trends within our denomination during the past six years, and thinking through the disparagement of "conceptual truth" that animates Newman and so many others within our denomination, I am no longer quite so certain. Perhaps we are well on our way to becoming the "agnostic" church that Shapiro describes: if so, it means we are on our way to becoming something other than the Church.

In some ways, the critical test in helping to make sense of these issues is the great paean of love found in I Corinthians 13. On the surface, it would appear to be a text that supports those like Paul Newman, insisting that "prophecies will cease", that "tongues will be stilled", and that "knowledge will pass away". All the more surprising then, that this passage describes love as "rejoicing with truth". The point for St. Paul, and for subsequent generations, is to distinguish between the endlessly ornate knowledge (gnosis) of gnostic religion and the simple, foundational truth (aletheia) of Christian faith. Had such truth been unimportant for Paul, his letter would no doubt have ended with the thirteenth chapter. As we all know, however, he went on to provide the Corinthian Church with a magnificent fifteenth chapter that expounds at length the truth about the resurrection. An engagement with such truth remains as inescapable and every bit as foundational for twentieth century North American Christians as it was for the Corinthian congregation almost two thousand years ago. IV

 There are, of course, potential snares awaiting anyone who is prepared to engage truth, to which Paul Newman rightly calls our attention. There is the danger of arrogance, which can take, and too often has taken, deadly forms. It is likely that this is partly what St. Paul is getting at when he warns the Corinthian congregation that "knowledge (gnosis) puffs up, but love builds up" (I Cor. 8:1). Arrogance is always a danger, but arrogance is a weed that grows in virtually any soil, so while the doctrinal truth part of the garden is being cleaned out, it is sprouting in the moral uprightness part, or the social justice part, or the interfaith dialogue part.

In addition to the danger of arrogance, Newman points to what might best be described as sterile orthodoxy. By that I mean an orthodoxy incapable of caring about anything beyond the proper formulation of doctrinal truths. Newman is quite right to raise this point; Christians must always see that the Gospel must be lived and not simply believed. The Church must be committed to a life of on-going dialogue concerning every facet of the truth the Gospel would have us not only believe, but put into practice. V

 Paul Newmans assertion, that "attitude-virtues are not historically or culturally specific in the same way that ideas or doctrines or 'truths are", is a very revealing one. It displays his liberal Christian roots; I cant imagine an observant Jew or Muslim agreeing with such a statement.[6]

When we translate "attitude-virtues" into concrete acts of "virtue", questions of truth become all the more pressing. Take, for example, the high profile issue of abortion: the advice given to a pregnant teenager will be greatly affected by the conception not only of her humanity but of the character of the life in her womb. If that life is regarded as part of the tissues of her body, or some as yet indeterminate tissues in her body, the response will be different than if it is regarded as a distinct human life.

Truths that seem merely conceptual and abstract can prove to be decisive for social policy. Christians who take seriously the doctrine of original sin, and the persistence of sin even in the apparently best people, may adopt a different approach to social questions than those who hold a more optimistic view of human nature. It is impossible to separate virtue from vision, virtue from the pursuit of truthfulness and truth.

I am grateful to Paul Newman for his careful discussion of the dangers which will need to be addressed by anyone who sees truth as being of paramount importance. Those who value a living relationship with Christian orthodoxy will ignore such dangers at their peril. I am concerned, though, with the way Newman seems oblivious to the dangers awaiting anyone who attempts to live the "attitude-virtue" known as love. In her story "The Lame Shall Enter First", Flannery OConnor provides us with a powerful cautionary tale. The protagonist, a well-meaning recreation director named (ironically) Shepherd, reaches out to a street-wise fourteen-year-old named Rufus Johnson. So intent is Shepherd in his desire to love and help Rufus, that he can see neither the truth about Rufus, nor the truth about his own hidden motives as a caregiver. During the climactic encounter between the two, Shepherd tells him, "Im stronger than you are. Im stronger than you are and Im going to save you. The good will triumph." To which Rufus tellingly responds, "Not when it aint true.... Not when it aint right."[7] In the end, Shepherds desire to do "good" without regard to truth leads to tragic consequences. Our own Churchs venture into Indian residential schools is a vivid example of the same principle.

 There is a paradox at work here, not unrelated to Newmans concern with humility and the need for Christians "to walk humbly with God". As he correctly insists, truth must cultivate humility, which will often involve truth expressing itself more lovingly. I would suggest that there is also need for "love" to cultivate humility, which will involve the need for "lovers" to embody their love more truthfully. For while it is entirely correct to say that "idea systems are ultimately justified by grace, through faith", it is no less correct to insist that "attitude-virtues", including the virtue of love, are ultimately justified by grace, through faith. Those who would live-love are no different than those who would speak truth.

The writer of Ephesians urges his readers to "speak the truth in love", and I am convinced of the abiding need for all Christians to take those words to heart -- not only striving to speak truth in love, but to live love in truth. Surely this is one endeavour, and one hope, in which Paul Newman and I stand united.

1. Donald Evans, Struggle and Fulfilment: The Inner Dynamics of Religion and Morality (Toronto: Collins, 1979) pp. 4ff.

2. See David Lochhead. The Dialogical Imperative: A Christian Reflection on Inter Faith Encounter (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1988) pp. 89ff. Lochhead qualifies his claim that interfaith dialogue requires no changes in theology as a precondition to dialogue by insisting that dialogue does require the precondition of a conversion to. and commitment to, the relationship of dialogue itself (p.93). This commitment to the relationship of dialogue. 1 would insist, is a theological one which, for me at least, includes beliefs about the possible presence of Gods Holy Spirit, with all its many gifts and charisms. in people of other faith traditions or no religious tradition.

3. I believe, by the way, that Newmans way of formulating the issue misrepresents Lochheads actual claim.

4. First Things, February. 1996, p. 22.

5. "The Benefit of the Doubt", Saturday Night, p. 34.

6. Alisdair Mcintyre has perceptively demonstrated the decisive connection between a given culture and the virtues that are esteemed within it.

7. From Flannery OConnor, The Complete Stories (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1979) p. 474.
 

"A Character of Singular Majesty": John Calvin of Geneva  by Gordon Harland 


Most great historical figures, those who have shaped our history in both large and subtle ways, usually come to us surrounded by legends, myths, and sometime distorting stereotypes. Few, however, have suffered more from unflattering stereotypes than John Calvin. A distinguished Anglican scholar, T.H.L. Parker, who has written several books on Calvin, tells a story that puts forth the problem posed by common stereotypes of Calvin:

A new clerical acquaintance and I were talking of John Knox. He was reminded of Calvin.

"Calvin, now," he said, "he was terrible." "Terrible," I asked, "how?"

"I mean Calvin," he said, "you know about Calvin dont you?" He plainly thought I had not caught the name. Calvin was terrible. No one, surely, who called himself a loyal Anglican could dissent from the verdict that Calvin was terrible.

"But why terrible?" I asked.

He found the question difficult. It was axiomatic that Calvin was terrible; but in what way, it was not easy to say, especially if one knew of him only by hearsay. But he was a strong-minded man and refused to be beaten.

"He was terrible," he replied firmly, and then, with inspiration, "I mean look how bad-tempered he was."

Parker continued by telling a second story, this time about a man in an evening class. Romans 3:21 ff was being expounded. "The teaching of the Council of Trent was mentioned and also that of Luther and Calvin. He interrupted me at the name: 'Calvin, he said, 'he was all on about predestination, wasnt he?'"

Bad temper and predestination. They add up to a gruesome, unattractive picture. And like most stereotypes, they have some truth in them. Calvin did have a bad temper, a fault he frequently acknowledged and deplored, and the language he used against opponents was often harsh and intemperate. Predestination, though not central to his thought, was an important doctrine for him. The question is what it meant, and how it related to the full range of his thought. These stereotypes are scarcely sufficient, however, to account for the immense influence that Calvin had on his own and subsequent centuries, to say nothing of the flood of books published about him in the past few decades.

The impression he made on the city of Geneva where he worked and died, was very different. When the Little Council, which governed Geneva, met in special session following Calvins death, it placed on record the impression he had made on them in these words: "God marked him with a character of singular majesty." It is a statement worth pausing over. The French notarys son had acquired the kind of respect usually reserved for princes. But the Council had noted that God had marked him with the character of majesty. For he had no force or body guard; his life was not noted for any pomp or ceremony. The majesty that marked him was an inner power of mind and spirit, the gift of God, which enabled him to become the source of one of the most dynamic religious movements in western history.

What can one say in a brief article about a figure of such stature? All great historical figures pose this problem, but the difficulty is particularly acute in the case of Calvin because he was not only a public figure of large historical impact, but also a religious leader of massive intellectual power. Very briefly, well touch on two things: 1) an outline of his life, and 2) the shape of his thought and piety.

A: A Sketch of His Life

Calvin played no part in the beginning of the Reformation. When he was born in 1509 in Picardy, France, Luther was already wrestling with his soul-searing questions in the monastery and giving lectures on the Bible. While Calvin was just a school boy, Luther had taken the fateful step of questioning the sale of indulgences, which set off the great upheaval which has shaped the Christian world ever since.

Calvin quickly demonstrated that he was a brilliant student, and at the age of fourteen he was sent off to the University of Paris where he received the M.A. degree in 1528. He was beginning his study of theology, but Calvin, like Luther, had a father who had thoughts of his own concerning what his son should do. Having squabbled with the clergy of Noyon, Calvin Sr. decided that his gifted son should study law. Calvin was fast becoming one of the greatest scholars of his age; he mastered whatever subject he turned to -- law, classical literature, or theology. His first book was a learned commentary, not on a Christian theological figure, but on Senecas De Clementia. Before long, his thought was travelling along the lines pioneered by Luther and the growing group of reformers. Calvin became involved in a seditious speech (for years it was thought that he had written it) delivered by Nicholas Cop, the Rector of the University of Paris. The speech produced such an uproar that both of them were compelled to leave the city. After being in various places, Calvin settled down to academic life in Basel. Here, he produced the first edition of his great work, Institutes of the Christian Religion, which, in its various subsequent editions, grew into the most influential single work in the history of Protestant theology. It established his fame at once, and he decided to settle in some city where he could quietly serve the cause of reform with his pen. Everything seemed to point to Strasbourg, and Calvin set out to journey to that city. Owing to a battle being waged on the direct route, he made a detour that brought him to Geneva. It was in every way a fateful turn in the road, one of those minor decisions that so frequently shapes the whole of life. He intended to spend one night, but he spent most of the rest of his life in that city, turning it into the capital of a world-wide Protestant movement.

What happened was that William Farel, who had already accomplished the first phase of the reform movement in the city, heard of Calvins presence, sought him out, and urged him to stay and help. Calvin was most reluctant to do so; he wanted to be a scholar, not a person involved in the contentious, stressful business of guiding a religious and cultural revolution. He objected strenuously, but Farel, whom Calvin described as a man "who aburned with an extraordinary zeal to advance the gospel" turned on Calvin and warned "that God would curse my retirement, and the tranquility of the studies which I sought, if I should… refuse to give assistance, when the necessity was so urgent."[2] Farels words were effective. Calvin stayed. This is the context for the description of Calvin as a "God frustrated scholar". It is also interesting to note that the man who was to be so decisive in Genevas history was hired by the authorities as a chore-boy for Farel, and when the secretary of the Council did not catch his name, he wrote simply, "that Frenchman."

Calvin set about, with Farel, to transform the life of the Church, its theology, worship, organization, and discipline. Since Geneva was a city-state, this also involved the social and moral life of the community. Before long, they came into sharp conflict with the political authorities of the City Council. The upshot was that after one of their frequent confrontations, Calvin and Farel were given twenty-four hours to leave the city.

Calvin went, as he had originally intended, to Strasbourg, which was a great European centre, and a city in which the Reformation was already firmly established. It was a wonderful haven for Calvin. He preached and ministered to the French Protestant refugees who were streaming into the city; he revised and expanded the Institutes; he provided commentaries on several books of the Bible. Also, he published in 1541 his Short Treatise on the Lord's Supper, one of the most important works on the subject in our history.[3] In Strasbourg, also, he was married. These were the happiest years of his life.

Meanwhile, back in Geneva, things were not going smoothly. That is a complex and interesting story. The Genevans had learned that if they were to remain a Protestant city, they must secure a strong, articulate leader. They turned to Calvin, the man they had so unceremoniously dismissed a few years before. Calvins initial response was that he would rather die a thousand deaths than return to Geneva. But again, he was persuaded that this duty was the call of God. Now 32 years of age, he reluctantly turned again to Geneva where he would spend the rest of his life.

His second phase of his Genevan ministry may be divided into two periods. The first, 1541-1555, was marked by intense conflict. Geneva was a city-state, and the central issue of controversy concerned the independence of the Church from the civil authorities. The notion that Calvin was a dictator, and Geneva some sort of theocracy, is based on a false idea of the power of the Church. Actually, the struggle between Calvin and the civil authorities is reminiscent of the earlier, medieval disputes between the pope and the emperor. The battle Calvin waged to secure and maintain the independence of the Church was a fierce one, but of large importance for our heritage.

Gradually the situation changed, and the second period, 1555-1564, may be described as a time of victory and expanding influence. Many factors combined to bring about this change. Young people representing a whole generation were attracted to his thought and vision for a regenerated Church and social order. The refugees who had come to Geneva regarded Calvin as a powerful spokesman, protector, and virtual saviour. In the university, he had gathered a learned faculty, while the student body was composed of people who would be leaders in many countries in the next generation. Despite the fact that these were years of failing health, the range of his activities was such that it is difficult to imagine how he managed to do all that he did. He was the chief pastor of the city, with a reputation for never failing to visit the sick or to counsel those in need. His general pattern of preaching was twice on Sunday, and once every day of alternate weeks. He lectured on theology at least three times a week.[4] He was by now the leader of the international Protestant movement and the amount of his correspondence was simply incredible. Still, the final edition of the Institutes was published in 1559, now a massive book of over 1700 pages, and he produced many commentaries on the books of the Bible, innumerable tracts, treatises and pamphlets, all written with his characteristic clarity and moving power.

Thus, in spite of all the demands upon his time, Calvin continued to be a great scholar. It is important to note, however, the nature and purpose of his scholarship. E. Harris Harbison claimed that Calvins scholarship was marked by three major characteristics. The first was a passion and genius for bringing order into regions of thought "where before there was misunderstanding, confusion or chaos". The second was "the balance he maintained between the subjective and the objective"; Calvin had a deep personal concern for everything with which he dealt, while retaining a keen sense of the objective nature of the reality he was engaging. As an interpreter of the biblical message, he belonged more to the scholarly heritage represented by theologians such as Augustine and Luther, than to the tradition of philologists represented by Jerome and Erasmus. But, Harbison adds, we would miss the characteristic mark of his scholarship entirely if we did not see that he belongs genuinely to both schools." The third, and most significant, characteristic that Harbison notes is Calvins passionate concern for the utility of knowledge. The idea of usefulness runs like a red thread through everything that Calvin wrote. Indeed, I wonder whether the words utility or usefulness are adequate to convey the nature of Calvins concern. He had no interest whatever in "speculative" theology. All his thought was centred on soteriology, or the concern for salvation. Because theology was concerned with a knowledge of God and of ourselves, nothing could be more "practical" or "useful" than theology. Indeed, to read Calvin is to be reminded that the entire Reformation movement was born out of a pastoral concern. Calvins constant aim was to make available an understanding of the Christian message that would issue in intellectual clarification, strong personal piety, and the kind of spiritual resources that would guide and energize the Church and its mission in the world. Because his scholarship was of this nature, it "could be a Christian vocation of high significance".[5]

Worn out by a long list of debilitating diseases, external pressures and internal tensions, Calvin died on May 27, 1564 at 54 years of age. In accordance with his wishes, he was buried in the common cemetery in an unmarked grave.

B: The Shape of His Theology and Piety

Perhaps the most important thing to say about Calvins thought and piety is to emphasize that they belong together. John T. McNeill has reminded us that Calvin called his Institutes not a summa theologicae but a summa pietatis, and adds that the "secret of his mental energy lies in his piety; its product is his theology which is piety described at length".[6] Descriptions of this piety and analyses of the Christian life are all over the writings of Calvin. Happily, however, he has given us a memorable one-sentence definition: "I call piety that reverence joined with love of God which the knowledge of his benefits induces".[7] It is a packed but illuminating description, each word important. Piety is not some self-generated feeling, but a vital response to the action of God upon us. Piety is always theocentric, focussed on God. The mark of a Christian life, Calvin explicitly says, is that we know and feel it is with God that we have to deal throughout life. Not just now and then, here and there, or only in church, but rather that we are "to look to God in all things", in all the aspects of life in nature and history, in the fulness of our relations and responsibilities.

This God-centred piety shapes all Calvins thought. Whatever other terms are used to describe the shape of his theology, we must begin with the word theocentric. Indeed, the Roman Catholic theologian Kilian McDonnell has it just right when he says: "It was the goal of Calvins theological endeavor to restore divinity to God".[8]

This theocentric theology has large significance for us, both in our theological thinking and in our concern for "spirituality". I mention, briefly, only three issues:

1) No one has spoken more movingly about the benefits and consolations of faith than Calvin, but his whole theology strikes at the root of the spirit of instrumentalism, of religious utilitarianism. What he could not abide was the manipulated God, the God who is approached as an object, a utility, a thing or value that is ultimately in our control.

2) Because good theology and piety are intertwined, because "our mind cannot apprehend God without rendering some honour to him", knowledge of God in Calvins view is not academic, disinterested knowledge. On the contrary, such knowledge embraces the knower. Indeed, the opening words of the Institutes state that the "true and sound wisdom consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves". Without a knowledge of God we cannot truly know ourselves, for we have our being in relationship with God; and without knowing ourselves, the nature and depths of our need, and the nature and largeness of the gifts we have received, we cannot know God.

3) The God we meet in all the dimensions of life is not some cold, remote, faceless principle or power. No. The God we meet in life is defined by and embodied in Christ. Calvins theocentric theology is at the same time passionately christocentric. Again, Kilian McDonnell, addressing a Catholic readership, has some words that are relevant to contemporary Protestants. Speaking of the notion among Catholics that Christ plays a minor role in Calvins theology, he says, "The Catholic theologian who picks up a volume of Calvin has a surprise awaiting him.... Christology as a centrality exercises so widespread an imperium that Christ is most certainly a dominating concern."[9] Nor is Christ some impersonal theological object in a scheme of salvation "standing afar off and not... dwelling in us!" On the contrary, Christ "makes us, ingrafted into his body, participants not only in all his benefits but also in himself.... Nor does he cleave to us by an invisible bond of fellowship, but with a wonderful communion, day by day, he grows more and more into one body with us, until he becomes completely one with us."[10] This theme of "union with Christ runs through all his work. The person and the work of Christ is at the heart of his theocentric theology.

Perhaps the best way to get a feel for Calvins thought about God is to attend to the metaphors he used. Brian Gerrish persuasively argues that the theme of grace and gratitude shapes Calvins entire theology. In the course of his discussion, Gerrish lifts up two metaphors that are prominent in Calvins exposition. The first is used at the outset of the Institutes and pervades the entire work: God is to be understood as the fountain of all good. It is not enough to say that God is to be worshipped and adored, we must also recognize that God is the origin, the source, the fount of every good we know."

The second metaphor is, if anything, even more prominent. God is to be seen as father. The two images, one drawn from nature and the other from personal familial relationships, are saying the same things. Both point to the inexhaustible depth of all good, of loving care, spilled out for us. Both metaphors meet in Christ, who is described, in Calvins comment on John 6:11, "as the living fountain gushing from the eternal Father".

To be sure, the term "Father" has become problematic in our time, and no one can deny that a history of patriarchy has tarnished its meaning.

Nevertheless, it is a huge mistake to assume that the term Father is only a reflection of a patriarchal social order. On the contrary: the term is saying that there is no dimension of God that is not personal and relational. The primordial depth, the abyss of Gods being, is marked by loving relationship. The term "fountain" by itself could not quite convey this, but when linked with the term "Father", we are being told that the depth of Gods being, the source of all good, is personal, relational. Calvins use of these metaphors reminds us of the richness they have had in the Christian heritage, and how important it is for us to make sure that any changes in language we make does not obscure this profound reality.

Relationship with God is the context in which all the great terms of Christian faith receive their meaning. Calvin is particularly rich in the way he expounds the meaning of the image of God in which we have been created. The image of God does not denote primarily some attribute or endowment which we possess by nature, but the relationship with God in which our lives are set. This relationship is not something added to our beings as a "religious extra"; it is constitutive of our beings. We should therefore think of humanity as a mirror in which the image of God is reflected back. The human soul is not so much of the image of God, as the mirror in which the image may be reflected. Our vocation as human beings is thus to image the grace in which we have been created. We do this through a life of thankfulness for the bounty that God, the fountain of all good, has bestowed upon us. The "fall" represents the disruption of this relationship, the denial of our vocation, the consequent de-humanizing of ourselves, and the defacing of the image in which we have been created. The mirror of our souls no longer reflects the image of God our creator. But here, too, we see the meaning of salvation. In Christ, who reflects "the express image of God", the relationship with God, and thus our integrity or wholeness, is restored. For this reason, Christians have always seen in Christ the image of the true humanity as well as "very God". And, as Calvin stresses, as we become participants in Christs being, we experience regeneration, a renewal of the relationship with God in which the image in which we are created is gradually restored.

Even concepts frequently regarded as repellent in Calvins theology need to be understood in the context of relationship. We take as an example the concept of total depravity. This does not mean for Calvin that humanity is all bad, incapable of great achievement, or good and noble deeds. Not at all. The point is that because sin disrupts our relationship with God it affects our whole being. Our mind, imagination, and even our religious instincts are affected, as well as our will and flesh. There is no unaffected "hotspot". Sin is all pervasive. That is the meaning of "total depravity". Because of the moralistic connotation of the word "depravity", it probably should be abandoned, provided we preserve the profound religious sense of the word sin, as an all-pervasive reality, that issues in a wrong orientation of our beings.

Calvin was fond of portraying the Christian life as a pilgrimage, as a life "bent forward", striving for the promised victory. Hope is central to Calvins understanding, and much of his work was devoted to making its energies available. Hope in this experiental, theocentric piety was no rootless, Utopian fantasy. It is a confident faith oriented to the future. Again, Calvin gives us a memorable one-sentence definition of faith as that "firm and certain knowledge of Gods benevolence toward us, founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ, both revealed to our minds and wealed upon our hearts through the Holy Spirit".[12] But faith is not faith, he says, unless it has hope as its inseparable companion. And on this companionship Calvin has some words that are, I think, not excelled in our heritage.

Accordingly…, hope is nothing else than the expectation of those things which faith has been truly promised by God. Thus faith believes God to be true, hope awaits the time when his truth shall be manifested; faith believes that he is our Father, hope anticipates that he will ever show himself to be a Father toward us; faith believes that eternal life has been given to us; hope anticipates that it will sometime be revealed; faith is the foundation upon which hope rests; hope nourishes and sustains faith.[13]

When I read these words, my mind leaps ahead a century after Calvin, to England and the Bedford jail where John Bunyan is writing his Pilgrim's Progress. In that grand work the companions Christian and Hopeful enter the River of Death together. Christian finds the water deep, and just as he is being overwhelmed, he hears the voice of Hopeful calling to him, "Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom and it is good."

Faith is the foundation on which hope rests; hope nourishes and sustains faith.

Calvin constantly stressed it is with God that we deal in all things. This theocentric piety embraced all the daily concerns of life -- family, business, education, politics. The dedicated, disciplined life of the monastery was carried into the common life. In his hands, asceticism was redefined; the world became a monastery without walls. The contribution of this tradition in education, business, and the professions has been rich indeed. The role of the Calvinist tradition in the development of democracy is especially to be noted. Calvin did not advocate democracy in and of itself, and he had a profound respect for authority, but the important thing was, he fixed its limits. Within a few years after his death, his followers would frame doctrines of both the religious duty and the moral right of resistance to misdirected authority that would have immense influence on the political development of many nations.

What are we to make of this complex, commanding figure, who has been such a formative influence on our heritage? We may say that, for all his intellectual and spiritual strength, there is something lacking, something not fully satisfying. We may describe this as an insufficient feel for human frailty, the frequent absence of the tender touch, the sense that he is a driven man with unresolved tensions and anxieties. Clearly, he is not one with whom we would cheerfully put our feet up and talk about inconsequential things before a fire. Nevertheless, to those who deal with important issues in a time of troubles Calvin will always be one of the richest, most relevant, resources we have in the whole of our history. He is one of the towering figures through whom we can learn what it means to love God above all things, and to meet God in all things. The Little Council of Geneva was right: God marked him with a character of singular majesty.

1. T.H.L. Parker. Portrait of Calvin (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1954) p. 8].

2. Calvins own description of this encounter is given in his Preface to the Commentary on the Book of Psalms. Incidentally, Calvin refers to the Psalms in a memorable way as 'An anatomy of all parts of the soul: for there is not an emotion of which anyone can be conscious that is not here represented as in a mirror. Or rather, the Holy Spirit has here drawn to the life all the griefs, sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, cares, perplexities, in short, all the distracting emotions with which the minds of men are wont to be agitated."

3. This Short Treatise is available in many collections of Calvins writings. A fine and accessible source is I.S. Reid (ed.) Calvin: Theological Treatises, Volume XXII of the Library of Christian Classics (Philadelphia: Wesminster Press, 1954).]

4. See T.H.L. Parker, Calvins Preaching (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992).

5. See the chapter on Calvin in E. Harris Harbisons splendid book, The Christian Scholar in the Age of the Reformation (New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 1956).

6. John T. McNeill (ed.) Calvin: Institutes of the Christian Religion. Library of Christian Classics, VaIl XX. (Philadephia: Wesminister Press. 1960) Vol 1, p ii.

7. Institutes 1.2.1.

8. Kilian McDonnell, "Calvin Without Myths", Commonweal, October 30, 1964, p. 166.

9. ibid., p. 165.

10. Institutes, 3.2.24

11. Institutes, 1.2.1. It should be noted that in his use of this metaphor Calvin is at one with Luther, who, writing on the First Commandment in the Lorge Catechism speaks of God as "an etemal fountain which overflows with sheer goodness and pours forth all that is good in name and in fact."

12. Institutes, 3.2.7. On this subject, see also Victor A. Shepherd, The Nature and Function of Faith in the Theology of John Calvin (Macon. Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983).

13. Institutes, 3.2.42.
 

We believe that it is our duty as disciples and servants of Christ, to further the extension of His Kingdom…. We confidently believe that by His power and grace all His enemies shall finally be overcome, and the kingdoms of this world be made the Kingdom of our God and of His Christ. (Basis of Union of the United Church of Canada, Article XX)

Statements like these are part of our heritage. But in our modern, pluralistic, and increasingly secular society, such statements sound dated and to a good many are the source of some embarrassment. They frequently inspire apology.

The current understanding of truth is split between the categories of "facts" and that of "values". Facts refer to things which are observed, empirically probed, and certain. Values, on the other hand, refer to the abstract and personal dimensions of life, which are a matter of private choice; they belong in the insecure category of "opinion". Within this perception, religion, including Christianity, is a matter of values, a matter of private opinion without general validity and certainty. This outlook is reinforced by the existence of a plurality of religions, as well as a plurality of Christian denominations.

Lesslie Newbigins writing is directed toward Christian people concerned with responding faithfully in and to our world, and particularly in and to a world that holds the ideas just mentioned. Behind his written work is a lifetime of dedicated service in the Church of South India, and in numerous international ecumenical organizations. In his books he has placed a vast number of subjects under scrutiny, trying to teach us to speak confidently as Christians. Honest Religion For Secular Man (1966) set the stage for the development of Newbigins missiology in the context of growing secularism and diminishing religious vigour. In The Open Secret (1978) he embarked upon an exposition and critique of Church mission, and then posed questions to the Church in The Other Side of 1984 (1983). In Foolishness to the Greeks (1986) he focussed on the question of what the Church must be within a secular society. He stressed the importance of the Church as a lens for looking at the world and making possible its transformation in The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (1989). Sub-themes ranging from theology and epistemology, to questions of personal conduct, ecology and relationship are played in harmony against the careful theme of Gospel, Church and culture.

Secularization, Not Secularism

Newbigin speaks positively of secularization as, in part, a fruit of the Gospel, but he criticizes secularism as "a system of belief, or an attitude, which in principle denies the existence or the significance of realities other than those which can be measured by the methods of natural science." He goes on to encourage a position for the Christian who lives "fully in the kind of world into which God has led us".
 

Newbigin doubts that a secular order can survive the disappearance of a religious (Christian?) motivation, for secular society has been incapable of maintaining itself both ethically and historically on its own. One of the by-products of Christian commitment to the world missionary task will be the sustaining of the benefits of secular society, while guarding against its inherent amorality. Missions, of course, mean more than accommodating Christianity within society, for missions are to the Church what breath is to the body. God sends us to a world that is consecrated by the presence of Christ.

For the most part, western culture is the product of that 18th century movement known as the Enlightenment. Newbigin acknowledges the positive results of the Enlightenment, but points to the "unfinished agenda" of that movement which, having invested all hope for transformation in the state and in science, is in decline.[2] What is called for in the Church, says Newbigin, is conversion involving more than just nominal adherence to Christian faith, but mental, ethical and communal dimensions as well. Newbigin compares our context for mission to the fifth century, the time of Augustine, when another brilliant stage of history was waning and Christian hope was asserted as the alternative to the uncertainty eroding the foundations of official optimism and imperial power.[3]

Christian Life, Not Status Conversion in a Pluralistic World

Newbigin says he is not suggesting a return to an official and privileged status for Christianity within society. But he does affirm without hesitation that Augustines perspective, which allows for no discretion between the private and the public, or the believer and the citizen, is the appropriate stance for the Christian; we are to be transformed, but not conformed to the world (Rom. 12:2), so that we might be free to serve the world. The world, even (especially?) the secular world, matters. It is into this world that the Church is called. The Bible and the congregation comprise the "probe" or "lens" by which the world may be investigated: Christians must be committed to the task of offering to a dying post-Enlightenment culture the "framework of understanding that has its base in the work of Jesus". This is a difficult task, for to be transformed without conforming to the world requires giving up the close relationship which has existed for so long between Western culture and Christianity. The latter, says Newbigin, always stands in critical relationship to every dominant culture, including Western culture, and Christian faith calls us to step out of our cultural framework in order to commit ourselves publicly to alternatives which secularism cannot acknowledge because of its amoral scientism.[4]

To illustrate this point, Newbigin enters into a dialogue with science (What can we know?), politics (What can we do?), and the Church (What must we be?). Once we grasp that human purpose is found in mutual reciprocity and communion with God who is self-giving love, there is every imperative to live out the Christian life in the community at large, and not just in the community of faith: "Faith working through love is the foundation of justice, and without justice there is no commonwealth."[5] There are "seven requirements" which he outlines for the Church, some of which may surprise readers, for they include declericalization, the development of a theology of lay missions, and the reduction of denominationalism -- the latter he cites as a symbol of the moral failure of Christianity. Denominationalism represents the institutional form of "private" religion, and gives Western culture grounds to invalidate Christianity (and all religion) except as an escape from modern life.[6]

Readers who are at ease with the current language of pluralism and the way the issue of "dialogue" is formulated, may feel uncomfortable with Newbigins point of view. He claims that abandoning the truth-claims of the Gospel will fail to resolve the tensions of pluralism, and that such abandonment could impede true dialogue. The impediment arises from the fact that all our propositions will fall short of the reality of God. If this leads to doubt, Newbigin maintains that there is a qualitative difference between the agnostics doubt and the believers doubt; only the latter affords commitment to the world in response to Gods love. Christian truth-claims must, at heart, acknowledge the necessity of engaging in authentic relationship with the neighbour. Though believers may doubt their own or others positions, it is a believers doubt which can encourage true dialogue instead of just polite conversation.

In the slim but powerful book, Truth to Tell (1991), Newbigin provides an exploration of the impact of Christian belief on the world. In doing so, he declares the Gospel as truth which is more than private, but public and societal as well. The Gospel is put forward as a commitment, having universal intent, which calls for radical conversion -- not to "save souls", but to empower people to serve Gods world. He is determined that people be given the opportunity to convert from self-service to serving Gods world. Newbigin describes the Church as more than an agency standing for good personal values; it is the bearer of objective, historical truth by which other thought-systems are to be evaluated.

Perhaps one of the most compelling critiques which Newbigin engages in is his examination of the perspectives described as "fundamentalist" and "liberal", which pervade society and the Christian community. Both are products of the Enlightenment: the first is based on empirical certainty (The Bible is the inerrant word of God.), while the latter is based upon doubt and the privatization of religion as a personal value (All religions are equally true.). Mere fundamentalism cannot become part of the everyday conversation of human discourse because it assumes a certain kind of objectivity lacking involvement with the world. By accepting the position that the Church is responsible for the care of souls, while business, political, and economic policy are the responsibility of secular authority, fundamentalism stands back from the world consecrated by Christs presence. Mere liberalism cannot engage with these powers because it is subjective and lacks personal commitment; if all religions are equally true, then none has an authoritative claim on us. Both lack personal responsibility: fundamentalism declares that we must adhere to an understanding of Scripture as an objective account of the deeds and words of God, while liberalism suggests that all religious experience, including that of the biblical authors, belongs to the realm of personal subjectivity. Fundamentalism relies upon and strives for certainty; liberalism founders upon the starting point of doubt. Fortunately, these are not the only alternatives; the choice is not between certainty and doubt, but between faith and unbelief. Both paths lead to pilgrimage, but rather than engage in the aimless wandering of "spiritual experimentation", the "Christian is called to be a pilgrim, a learner to the end of her days. But she knows the way. Only a perspective of committed involvement for the sake of Gods world frees the Christian for the sake of the neighbour." Newbigin goes further: Truth is the Gospel of Jesus Christ; God, the sovereign creator, has demonstrated Gods love by coming in the person of Jesus Christ and has directed the people of the world to true purpose in life-giving relationship. He maintains that this is not a matter of personal choice, but a world-shaping proposition which must be proclaimed by word and act, as truth.

Newbigins theological position provides ample impetus for the critique of almost every social and theological system which does not affirm the value of each human being and Gods creation, including international corporate capitalism,[9] and, surprisingly and with obvious reluctance, most forms of liberation theology.[10]

Such language will be upsetting to many because it flies in the face of the dominant myths and values of our culture. It is therefore inherently critical, but also necessary in order to unmask what is untruth; ideologies of nation, race and blood such as those exposed by the Barmen Declaration, the principalities and powers of consumerism and acquisition which render life into a mere function of the market and technology, and the idols of wants and needs which are all exposed by the Gospel."

A Word in Season

Much of Newbigins best work is summarized in A Word in Season (1993) and Proper Confidence (1995).

A Word in Season: Perspectives on Christian World Missions consists of seventeen sermons, essays and presentations made by Newbigin since 1960, and represent the development of his thoughts on ecumenism, missions, pluralism, and contextual theology. They are intended to draw the reader into the quest of living as a Christian in and for the world. Running like a thread throughout is the question posed by the Indonesian theologian Simatoupang: "Can the West be converted?" This is, essentially, the question which each of us faces in our daily ministry, and one which applies itself to every dimension of Christian life. Newbigins essays provoke us with titles such as "Mission in a Modern City", "Does Society Still Need the Parish Church", "The Cultural Captivity of Western Christianity", and "Mission in a Pluralist Society". In this last essay, Newbigin decries any return to Christendom, but, instead, announces hope for a society in which "those whose thought and practice set the tone and direction... include a large number of Christian men and women who have thought through the implications of the Christian faith for those areas of the life of society." This requires, among other things, a recovery of nerve"

In his most recent book, Proper Confidence3, this venerable pastor (he is now almost 87!) gives direction and shape to the recovery of nerve as the critical position of Christian life and thought in modern western society. Its format is more intellectual than his previous books, but remains accessible to anyone who has encountered the distinction between religious faith and secular life as false and destructive. Newbigin continues with his theme of deconstructing patterns and presuppositions imposed by the Enlightenment. But he goes further by rejecting the bifurcation of social and religious life into the unrelated realms of "facts" and "values". Newbigin describes the real distinction as the biblical distinction between faith and unfaith. Faith is the knowledge of, and as such is the gift of, God, a matter of grace to be acted upon and proclaimed to the world. Christian faith is the basis for proper confidence and knowledge: faith does not result from a convincing argument, but is the commitment of fallible human beings who trust in the faithful God who has called them.

If you are one for whom the separation of faith from the day-to-day operations of the world has been a source of sadness and frustration, Newbigins work can offer a significant basis for seeing the Church in the world in a new light. If you are one for whom any talk of proclamation of the Gospel and evangelization triggers criticisms of arrogance and triumphalism, then Newbigin may surprise you.

In any case, Newbigin has become one of the most important theological authors of the late 20th century. His work offers Christians, in a world bent on certainty before commitment, a fresh look at the continuity of Christian thought springing from the revelation of God in Jesus Christ. Newbigin extends to us a way of looking at the world which is not new, and anything but certain, but which may challenge the reader to find new ways of confidently expressing faith by word and deed --in the postmodern age which threatens to absorb it.

1. Honest Religion for Secular Man (London: SCM Press, 1966) pp. 8-10.

2. The Other Side of 1984 (Geneva: World Council of Churches. 1983) pp. 16 and 10 respectively.

3. Ibid., p.21. Cf., also Michael Polanyi, Personal Knowledge (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958) pp. 265-6.

4. 1984, p. 27.

5. Foolishness to the Greeks (1986). P. 104.

6. Newbigin, "The Cultural Captivity of Western Christianity" A Word in Season: Perspectives of Christian World Missions (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993) pp. 66-79.

 
7. Proper Confidence: Faith, Doubt and Certainty in Christian Discipleship (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. 1995) p.92.

8. Truth To Tell: The Gospel as Public Truth (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1991) p.59.

9. Ibid., p.89.

10. 'The Open Secret," chapter 10.

11 Ibid., p. 89.

12. A Word in Season, p. 173.

13. Proper Confidence: Faith, Doubt and Certainty in Christian Discipleship (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995).

The name Caroline Macdonald is not a familiar one to most Canadians. I confess that I had never heard of this woman until I learned that Margaret Prang was working on her biography. I was more than a bit curious to see what it was about this presumably "ordinary" missionary whose story had drawn the attention of a historian whose previous work I so admired.

As I began to read A Heart at Leisure From Itself I quickly learned that Caroline Macdonald was no ordinary missionary, and began to understand why she would be considered an intriguing subject for a biography. Canadian diplomat Hugh Keenleyside described her as among a dozen or so of the "most remarkable men and women" he had known (a list that included Lester Pearson, Franklin Roosevelt, J.S. Woodsworth, and Dag Hammarskjold). One of the best-known foreigners in Japan in her day, her varied career included work on the staff of the YWCA, involvement with Womens education, and social work. But she found a vocation which brought her international attention when she visited a Japanese Christian in prison after he brutally murdered his wife and children This led to her involvement in penal reform, and the founding of a Settlement house which specialized in dealing with prisoners and their families. As we follow her activities in Japan and around the world, the appropriateness of the title Margaret Prang selected for her book becomes apparent: this is indeed the story of "Carolyn Macdonald of Japan" (the words on her tombstone in Wingham, Ontario, where she was buried in 1931). Making use of an impressive range of documentary materials, including Macdonalds own papers, Prang deftly tells her story, weaving in illustrations of the involvement of Canadians in international religious movements, especially missions, social work, and ecumenism. But this book is not just about a Canadian in Japan. In becoming of Japan, Macdonald took the medicine she prescribed to newcomers as the cure for nostalgia and homesickness: to transfer their spiritual allegiance to the land in which they were living, and to develop an "international mind" that refused to judge those different from themselves (268). She learned to speak Japanese fluently, rejecting the advice of colleagues who insisted that learning the language was difficult and unnecessary. She accomplished her own identification with the Japanese to a remarkable degree, even to the point of defending Japans imperialist aims in that region of Asia, a highly sensitive matter given the involvement of other Canadian Presbyterians in Korea (166). There is no evidence to suggest that she ever reconsidered her defence of Japanese expansion. Her death two months before Japans invasion of Manchuria rescued her from what would no doubt have been a painful dilemma.

Prang makes a disclaimer about her use of a "coherent 'feminist theory or methodology" (xii), but acknowledges the influence of Writing a Woman's Life by Carolyn Heilbrun (perhaps better known to some Touchstone readers as the mystery writer Amanda Cross). She contrasts Macdonalds life with what Heilbrun has described as that generations expectation that women be "unambiguously women": a man at the centre of their life and their lives arranged so as "to allow to occur only what honours his prime position" (293). And yet this "unambiguous woman" was certainly no male clone. While untypically female in her career path, her conduct in fact displays striking similarities to the values-based approach to leadership, based on inclusion of and respect for followers, which James OToole has described in Leading Change as seemingly more "natural" for women than for men.

Why was Macdonald regarded by those in her day as a remarkable leader? As I considered this question, it occurred to me that it was not only what she did that drew the admiration of those at home and abroad, but how she did it. He willingness, indeed her insistence, that things be placed under Japanese control rather than her own reflects not only her ease with being in and of Japan, but her consistent regard for the principles of inclusion and respect. Time and again Prang points out Macdonalds willingness to listen to others, and her ability to discern the right spot for their gifts. She built an ecumenical network of contacts to support her work as missionary, social worker, and prison reform advocate.

That included such luminaries as Janne Addams, E. Stanley Jones, and John R. Mott, and countless small donors as well. She was politically astute and astonishingly successful as a fundraiser, as one incident will serve to illustrate: although she was buried as a Presbyterian (likely in deference to her parents strongly anti-unionist stance), she stayed aloof from the Church union controversy, and ended up receiving money from both sides!

I would take issue with one point in Prangs assessment of her financial support. After noting throughout the book how many times women were named as her key benefactors, it came as a surprise to me to hear Prang say that male friends were essential to her work "since only men had the influence and the money needed to implement her plan". Perhaps it is not "male" but "friends" that is the key word, an idea that is not too farfetched, since Prang in the same paragraph identifies the "definitive factor in her unusual career" as "her great capacity for friendship". Both men and women were worthy of friendship and included as supporters of her causes.

Macdonald did not live to see the unravelling in the war years of the network of support which she had knit together. And yet Prang hints that post-war democracy in Japan owes something at least indirectly to her work. "Although she was only one among many channels through which ideas about social equality and democracy were circulating, she was clearly important in the lives of those in her immediate circle." Prang notes that while the reformers of that era are faulted for their idealism and political naivete, "to a remarkable degree their issues proved to be the issues of postwar society" (292), Perhaps Macdonald would not have wanted it otherwise. As Prang writes this womans life, she comes across as one more comfortable at the centre, rather than at the head, of the institutions she helped to create, content to work with men and women as individuals, and trusting them to extend her influence, In this fine book, so gracefully written, Prang has extended Macdonalds influence a little further.

-- Phyllis Airhart
 

In this wide-ranging book, Chris Levan argues that three signs point to the immanent demise of institutional Church: "(1) the reversal of roles between mainstream churches and radical sects in North American Christianity; (2) the decline and shift in membership of the older, traditional denominations; and (3) the general mediocrity of much Christian thinking and acting" (p.2), Drawing inspiration from the work of Douglas Hall and John Dominic Crossan, Levan argues that the Church as an institution has departed from the mission of Jesus and corrupted His message. Where Jesus called people to celebrate the goodness of God who gives life, and to care for the needy and marginalized, seeking an egalitarian society and open relationship with God, the Church has become an institution centred around its own survival. It seeks large membership numbers rather than authentic discipleship, and offers a false sense of spiritual security, but only to those who conform to a middle class life style.

Levans prescription is that the Church turn to become something like a twentieth century version of the movement centred around the "historical Jesus", "Away with the membership drives, bake sales, and the myriad of other activities designed to perpetuate the church organization! The primary role of a community of faith is to promote belief in God the Creator and to live out that faith in a practical and just manner." (p. 109)

Levan writes very well, in an engaging and easy-to-read style. There are many truths and insights throughout this book and some good sections, such as that on the Bible and homosexuality (pp. 114-117), But there is none of the careful analysis backed up by extensive empirical investigation in his description of the Church, such as one finds, say, in the work of Robert Wuthnow. I do not recognize the present-day United Church in Levans portrait of it. One can recall an individual or two, a sermon, a worship service, some presbytery meetings, or even a congregation, that fit his description of the Church as dull and lifeless. Levan wants a risk-taking Church oriented to its mission. But he makes no mention of the 1988 General Council, the apology to Native peoples, the support for the Mohawks when they were behind their barricades -- not even something like the work on the new hymn book.

Levan makes a false dichotomy between caring for the Church as an institution and the performance of its mission. Its true that the two are often in tension, but if the mission is going to continue it requires an institution to carry it out. As Gregory Baum argues in another context, erecting this kind of dichotomy between faith and its related institution only serves to avoid the biblical critique of false religion, preventing people from coming to authentic self-awareness and weakening their sense of responsibility for their faith community, and undercutting precisely what is needed for deeper Church reform.

Levan writes a lot about what Jesus intended and God wants, but he says little about what Jesus accomplished and what God does in the present. Levans view of God seems close to that of eighteenth century deism, which understood God to be the Creator of a beautiful and essentially well-ordered creation and who, having created it, has now effectively withdrawn and left the world to run according to its own devices. Thus his book ends on a note of rigorism that comes, so it seems to me, from a feeling that the Church and the world must be forced into shape since God is not really present to effect anything significant.

It is generally agreed that denominations like the United Church of Canada are in a state of crisis and transition. This book may raise some questions, and make people think, but it does not offer a viable orientation for the Church in the future. Its portrait of the Church is so dated that most of its criticisms miss the mark. It does not put forward an interpretation of God and the Christian mission that corresponds to the biblical message. Finally, it offers little in the way of substantive inquiry into why denominations like ours, which experienced such growth through the fifties, should suddenly enter a marked decline.
 

-- Donald Schweitzer
 

Return to  Main Menu