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A German Lutheran evangelist’s message to the Berlin congress
An Unexpected Commission
The cradle and the grave are two great obstacles to fulfillment of the Great Commission. Every day, a new multitude is born, and a vast prospect list vanishes; in the United States alone, there are 11, 227 births and 4,970 deaths daily.
But the lack of dedicated witnesses compounds the Church’s problem, and when death removes devout workers of evangelistic zeal the loss is felt doubly. On June 20 Christ “summoned home” one of this century’s outstanding German evangelists, the Rev. Wilhelm Busch, who had carried on a youth ministry in Lutheran churches abroad for thirty years. His remarks prepared for the World Congress on Evangelism (reprinted here) were in the form of a devotional Bible study—on the theme, ironically, of the need for more workers. Willy Busch, as his friends called him, knew—as do all those invited as delegates to the World Congress—that the task of global evangelism must rest upon the shoulders of every professing believer in Jesus Christ.
Born in 1897, Busch was one of eight children of a preacher in Wuppertal-Elberfeld. He attended the classical Lessing-Gymnasium and during World War I was a lieutenant at the front. “My comrades and I lived far from God, under the dismal dominion of the idols Bacchus, Venus, and Death,” he confessed. But amid the horrors of war he found God. “Beside the corpse of a friend God spoke to me. I was on my way to hell until I held a Bible and read that ‘Jesus Christ is come into the world to save sinners.’” He became a theological student in Tübingen. “Schlatter had me under his spell. Then Karl Heim. With Heim we forgot that we were hungry, and that no dinner awaited us.”
His Christian commitment led him to the Ruhr—first as minister in a mining district, then as youth minister in Essen from 1931 to 1962, when he devoted himself to itinerant lectures. “I have a message that must be taken seriously,” he said often. “It is: God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. That’s what I live by.”
The World Congress on Evangelism will be deprived of the physical presence of Willy Busch. Perhaps the Lord of the Church desired for his message a wider audience than it would have had in the Berlin Kongresshalle. His Bible study follows.—ED.
But when Jesus saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then said he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest [Matthew 9:36–38].
How many people are gathered here today? Even if we counted them very carefully, we would find in the last analysis that we had miscounted by one. This One we do not see. Everything, however, depends upon him. He is the most important Person at our gathering.
This One is the living Lord Jesus Christ. He is in our midst. And thus, as we see him and hear him in our text, it is he who acts and speaks among us. His words and works are always new and always of the highest relevance.
What Jesus says and does is not at all what we would expect but rather singular and astounding.
1. His eyes perceive things differently than do ours
“But when he saw the multitudes”—so begins our text.
Obviously, Jesus’ preaching enjoyed great outward success. It was public knowledge that he spoke with power, and that a word from him could even heal the sick. People came together in a great throng. I am convinced that the setting of our passage is a mass meeting.
We all know how exciting big gatherings are. Empty chairs and half-filled halls have a depressing effect upon us. But when multitudes gather, our hearts become glad. To see a vast crowd of people feeds the ego. A crowd elates and transforms the speaker.
But how differently the Lord approaches this throng! In fact, he doesn’t even see crowds; he sees only individuals, all kinds of them. And he sees each person’s needs, his dreary obligations, his unsatisfied desires, his sorrows and despair, his accusing, uneasy conscience, and his heavy heart.
“… he was moved with compassion on them.…”
I am certain that Jesus sees people today in exactly the same way. The incident in our text occurred almost 2,000 years ago. But what it says about people then is just as true of people today. The poet Goethe said: “Mankind is always progressing, but man as an individual never changes.” And so it is!
May I point out that right now, at this very moment, the Lord sees us, too, as we really are. In his eyes, such a congress as this is surely no impressive affair. He sees us—each individually—in our needs, in our unresolved personal problems, and also in our guilt and helplessness.
This is very comforting. In these days let us not be merely great missions strategists! Let us instead be people who are once again open to our great Helper and who learn anew to rejoice in him. “… he was moved with compassion on them.…”
At this point the Greek text uses very strong words to express how Jesus sees people: “… they were oppressed and trodden underfoot.” This is hardly an encouraging sight.
It happens again and again that persons are deeply impressed by the utter wretchedness of mankind. But they look upon their fellow men with cold detachment and refuse to become involved. Consequently they become cynical. I shall never forget one little experience I had when I became a pastor. “You will come to know men in their wretchedness,” my godly mother told me. “Be very careful that you never become a cynic!”
The wise of this world, the intellectually sophisticated and spiritually arrogant, have expressed such contempt again and again. Said Horace, the Roman poet: Odi profanum vulgus et arceo (I hate the masses and keep them at a distance). And the Pharisees in Jesus’ time said: “This people who knoweth not the law are cursed” (John 7:49).
Jesus, the Son of the living God, is the only one who has the right to view us humans at a distance, for he is the only one who could say of himself: “I am from above, you are from below.” He is the only one who has no share in the degradation of mankind. And more profoundly than any wise and any spiritually eminent one, Jesus sees all of mankind’s suffering and misery. After all, he knew man before the Fall. He knew and knows how God intended man to be. He sees the actual depth of our fall.
Yet this One views our suffering with neither the arrogance of the Pharisees nor the haughtiness of Horace. “… he was moved with compassion on them.…”
Here in the Greek we find an unusually strong word. It could be translated: “His heart turned within him.” Yes, his heart was so moved with compassion that he identified himself completely with the “oppressed and the downtrodden.” Never, in the last analysis, was anyone so despised as was Jesus in his Passion. And the misery of the world broke his heart as he died on Golgotha’s cross.
“… he was moved with compassion on them; because they were oppressed and downtrodden like sheep that have no shepherd.”
What has become of the impressive crowd? Now we see only individuals whom the devil has oppressed, betrayed, and seduced, who have been disillusioned a thousand times in the race toward oases that proved to be only mirages. Here now are men who have lost their original divine image. Here are men who—perhaps without being aware of it—are suffering under the burden of their guilt. Guilt before God is indeed a reality. It is a burden, even if man does not recognize it as such.
The Danish philosopher and theologian Sören Kierkegaard tells how as a boy he often took walks with his father. Sometimes the father would stop, look thoughtfully at his son, and say: “You poor child! You’re walking in a kind of quiet desperation.” Jesus is aware that all men are walking in quiet desperation.
And now we read something terrible: “… they are like sheep that have no shepherd.”
Everywhere and in every age appear leaders who are ready to assume the office of shepherd. Here by one mighty utterance of God they are felled and humbled. We too are pushed aside. No man, no one at all, is in a position in which he can really help, because no man can repair or reverse the Fall.
But we cannot stop here. We must elaborate upon our text. He who thus evaluates man and sees us in this way is indeed himself the God-sent “good shepherd.” He has come—now I use his own words—”to seek and to restore the lost, to heal the wounded, and to offer life and fullness of joy.” He is the one who, through his coming, death, and resurrection, repairs the effects of the Fall.
He is truly this poor world’s only hope!
We must point out one particular item concerning Jesus’ vision. With great insight into the meaning of our passage, Luther translated it: “… they were scattered like sheep that have no shepherd.”
Our age suffers conspicuously from separation, from division. Individuals have no contact with their neighbors—and become isolated. Nations, races and social classes are separated. Churches are separated, as are individual Christians. They are “scattered like sheep that have no shepherd.”
At the Julier Pass in Switzerland I once met a shepherd. He told me how, one day, at an altitude of 8,000 feet, he was surprised by a sudden snowstorm. The sheep became terrified and ran wildly in all directions. In the thick mist and driving snow they did not see the abysses, and many fell to their deaths.
I then asked the shepherd: “What did you do?” He answered: “I climbed on a rock and shouted. Those sheep which heard my voice gathered around me, were united into one flock, and were rescued.”
We can enlarge upon our text by saying: Jesus the good shepherd stands in this our world and lets his voice ring out. The shepherd’s voice should be heard in all our speaking and preaching. Jesus says: “My sheep hear my voice.” In him alone will we be united.
I once heard the late Russian evangelical leader Ivan Stepanovitch Prochanov give the following impressive illustration. All of us, as it were, are running aimlessly about in a circle. No one overtakes another. We remain scattered. But as each one, on his own accord, travels along the radius of the circle to the center, we come closer together. The closer we come to the center, to the God-ordained center—namely, the Lord Jesus—the closer we come to one another.
In the one “Good Shepherd” we are united.
To summarize:
a.Jesus sees men as they really are, and we should learn to see men through his eyes!
b.He alone can help. And our service must consist in pointing men to him.
c.New men, united men, have their source in Jesus.
2. He views our prospects differently than do we
Here the Lord Jesus says something quite baffling: “The harvest is great.” We might think that this assertion was applicable 2,000 years ago. But—does it still apply in our day?
“The harvest is great.” Let us notice that Jesus does not say: “The field is great.” We could say a great deal about that. But here he is speaking about the harvest, which is ripe and ready to be gathered.
The fourth chapter of John’s Gospel records how the Lord Jesus had a personal, spiritual conversation with a frivolous woman at a well in a Samaritan city. The woman was so deeply moved that she ran into the city and told the people about Jesus. Thereupon they streamed out to meet him. When Jesus saw the multitude, he said to his disciples: “Lift up your eyes and look upon the field; it is already ripe for harvesting.”
In our passage, the masses flocked to Jesus without benefit of publicity. They came without the invitation of posters or loudspeakers. Here he could truly say: “The harvest is great.”
But how is the situation today? Church attendance in Christian countries is frightfully small. Young people are so preoccupied with their political, social, and economic problems that witnesses for Christ have a hard time getting a hearing. And so we are tempted to lose heart.
Its All Greek To Me
In reading about the New Testament, Christians are sometimes puzzled by citations of Greek words. Here is a beginner’s list of New Testament words along with Bible references showing their use. Try matching the words with their definitions. Use the references if you are in doubt. Answers are listed below.
ANSWERS
JAMES LEWIS LOWE
Philadelphia, Pa.
In my country there are Christians who maintain with all seriousness: “The time for missions and evangelism is gone. Our only task now is to prepare our congregations for the return of the Lord.”
But “Jesus says something different: “The harvest is great.” Such a sentence goes against our reason. And we ask ourselves whether we will believe statistics and lose heart, or whether we will believe the word of our Lord and be convinced that the opportunities for evangelism are tremendous. The world hungers for God and his salvation. And we may be sure that the world is waiting for our message.
In his book A la decouverte et an service de l’humain, Henri Ochsenbein tells of a project undertaken by a prominent Swiss publication. Reporters were placed in the Zürich railroad station to interview fifteen people at random as they stepped off the train. Promising a considerable remuneration and absolute confidentiality, the reporters were to inquire what problem at the moment was weighing most heavily on these people. The result was shattering. It became clear that almost every person suffered deep, painful conflicts which gnawed at the very roots of their being and for which they sought help and a valid solution.
Yes, the world hungers for God.
As a young pastor I was assigned to a mining area in the Ruhr district where people had totally abandoned the Church. The situation seemed hopeless. Here were no heathen who had yet to hear the Gospel. A harvest here seemed impossible. This was a truly post-Christian world. These men seemed to have left Christianity behind them.
I set out and went from house to house. Usually people tried to slam the door in my face and often shouted hatefully: “We don’t need a preacher!” But I already had my foot in the door, and I declared: “That’s true! You don’t need a preacher. But you do need a Saviour!” At that they were taken aback, and they opened the door.
A year later I needed only to go out on the street. Men and women came to me with their needs and cares—and also with their sins.
Once when I was conducting a very difficult evangelistic campaign in a small industrial city and was beginning to feel somewhat discouraged, a young coworker burst into the room where I was collecting my thoughts and shouted: “All signs point to victory!”
He didn’t concern himself with the men who came or didn’t come; rather, he saw his risen Lord. And it was in the overwhelming joy of the triumph of His resurrection that he shouted the glorious statement: “All signs point to victory!”
No doubt he bore in mind that the Lord will indeed return. And he remembered that we are not to perform our service as if what we contend for would collapse without our frantic efforts. The final outcome has already been decided. For this reason all signs do indeed point to victory. “The harvest is great.”
Let us be about our harvesting and rejoice like farmers who have been blessed with an abundant crop! Labor in the hot fields will entail hard work and sweat. But the harvest is plentiful and ripe. And it stands waiting in the fields.
3. He gives us an unexpected commission
In view of what has gone before we might now expect Jesus to say: “There are indeed few workers in the harvest. The situation is bad. But in order that at least something gets done, you must now go out and gather in God’s harvest.” Surely that is how Jesus’ discourse must continue.
But that is precisely what Jesus does not say. What he does and says runs counter to our way of reasoning. One other time Jesus did indeed send out his disciples as harvesters; the account of this is in the very next chapter. But here, where we might expect such a commission, he says something completely different: “Pray the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth workers into his harvest.”
I can imagine impetuous Peter thinking at this moment: “Lord! Here are twelve strong and willing harvest workers! Why should we be asking for workers when we’re just the people for the job?!”
But this is what Jesus says: “Ask the Lord for workers!” Perhaps then the meaning occurred to Peter: “Pray for yourself, that you may become a true laborer. As yet you are not the kind of harvester that the Lord requires.”
I don’t think that we, we who are gathered here, should be so almightily convinced that we are usable harvest laborers. We are indeed harvest laborers. But whether we are usable is often very doubtful.
As a student I was once in a village where grain was still being cut with a scythe. I wanted to help, and so I joined the reapers. But after five minutes I had to quit. I couldn’t handle the scythe correctly.
Today we lay great stress upon comprehensive training. Well, I have nothing against that. But even if I had been trained as a reaper, I still would not have been able to keep up with those men, because I did not possess their muscle strength.
Harvest laborers for Jesus Christ need more than training. They need divine power. Their own strength must be broken. They need to be spiritually equipped by the Lord.
“Pray the Lord for laborers!” This brings us to say, therefore, “O Lord! In our present state we are completely unqualified. Make us into true, empowered, cleansed, selfless, ardent, and zealous workers in thy harvest! Forgive us our constant presumption in thinking that we are just the ideal persons for thy task. We are nothing of the kind. Therefore do thou thyself prepare us for thy service!”
And then, of course, Jesus’ command clearly means that we should pray for more witnesses. I do not believe that Jesus means that we should pray particularly for more professional preachers and ministers. He is concerned about reviving slumbering Christians. We are to pray that men and women become alarmed at people’s misery and according to the measure of their strength do something for Jesus.
What can we expect as the result of such prayer?
“Pray the Lord of the harvest!” If we read the New Testament carefully, we discover that strange things happen to those who pray. Almost always their impassioned prayer receives a negative answer or none at all.
We remember the woman who ran after Jesus and cried. “My daughter is demon-possessed!” (Matthew 15: 22). Jesus merely answered that she did not belong to the people of Israel and that it was to these alone that he was sent.
Or there is the story of the government official who pleaded for his son. Jesus answered forthrightly: “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe” (John 4:48).
Near Jericho a blind beggar sat and cried for help. But for a long time Jesus acted as though he didn’t hear him.
Other examples could be cited. Jesus himself told a parable about a man who at night knocks at a friend’s door and asks for bread. But the neighbor shakes his head and says that it’s really quite impossible to fulfill such requests at night.
While all these pleas were finally answered, it was only after some obstruction was overcome.
If the Lord is here commanding us, his disciples, to pray for workers in the harvest field, no doubt we may encounter a similar situation when we pray. Our request must be so heartfelt and so filled with awareness of the need in the harvest field, so persistent in behalf of its great concern, that we overcome the obstructions and obstacles. Then the “Lord of the harvest” will answer us.
What an impact would be felt if this gathering would unite to pray unceasingly for the quickening of Christendom and the awakening of laborers in the harvest fields!
Recently a major newspaper carried an article about the possibility of blasting the projected new Panama Canal out of bedrock with but one thrust of atomic power. Vividly the journalist painted the picture: as the President presses a small, insignificant button, suddenly enormous forces, forces beyond comprehension, are released that chart new paths for the ships of the world.
Much greater and mightier achievements will be released when, finally united, the disciples of Jesus obey the command stated here. With their feeble praying they will unleash a force and quickening far more powerful than that which all other efforts can accomplish.
Lord! Grant us the spirit of prayer. Give us eyes open to the great possibilities of our times. Grant us thy eyes, which see men as they really are and see them with compassion!Amen.
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The Church must hold to God’s truth but explain it in today’s language
God is dead,” we are told. The proclamation of Nietzsche’s old battle cry within churches and seminaries is startling, and that it is now held to express pastoral concern should lead to solemn reflection. Is there a sense in which the Christian Church must update what it has to say? Can we distinguish between the truth once delivered unto the saints and the verbal or intellectual expression of that truth?
The attempt to update and to restate old truth is not without peril. The Church appears to be in a predicament. Some contend that if it is to be heard, it must change the content of what it has always taught. But if it does that, the Church abandons the truth committed to it.
Both the desire of the conservative to preserve the truth and the desire of the progressive to introduce change can be fulfilled, but only if proper distinctions are drawn. To speak to those who live in the 1960s, the Church must be a part of the 1960s and therefore undergo some change. But to speak as the Church, and not as a radically new institution bearing a familiar name, the Church must retain continuity with the past. The secret of progress is a balance between continuity and change. But what is to be kept intact, and what is to be preserved? And at what level can change be properly introduced?
There are three levels where the introduction of change is tantamount to a radical break with the Christian faith. First, it is impossible for man to introduce change in the nature of God. God is what he is. No amount of human speculation can alter the reality and perfection of the living God, who said to Moses, “I AM THAT I AM.”
There is a second level that admits no variation, and it is the level of divine action. What God has done is irrevocable. What has been done cannot be undone. The facts of creation and of the history of redemption belong to the past. No one can change what has already happened.
The level of God’s being, what he is, and the level of God’s action, what he has done, must be distinguished from a third level, that of revelation. Here God has disclosed what we need to know about his nature and his acts. What God has revealed does not change, for it is about himself and what he has done for us. Although we no longer encounter God as we walk in the garden in the cool of the day, we do encounter him in the Scriptures. What God has revealed does not change, for he has told us what he is—that he is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, whose being is holy, just, and good. He has also told us what he has done; and it is from the Scriptures that we learn of our sin and misery, of our alienation, of our separation, and of the way back to God through the person and work of the Word who became flesh.
The Scriptures cannot be broken. They do not change and they must be preserved, because without them our knowledge of what God is, and of what he has done, would at best be inadequate for our salvation. To believe in the Scriptures is to believe that they are the self-disclosure of God to man. To believe in the revelation of God is not just to believe in the religious experience of the Israelites or of those who belonged to the early Church. Rather, to believe in the Scriptures is to share the faith of the Israelites and to share the faith of the early Church—the faith that God has spoken of himself and of what he has done. The very existence of the Scriptures is a result of an act of God. They came into being through the dynamic working of the Holy Spirit. For this reason they do not change, nor do they lie.
The Church cannot hope to communicate the Christian message if it denies the unchangeable elements of that message. To deny that God is, to distort his nature, to deny what he has done, to repudiate the source from which we learn about what he has done, leaves the Church speechless. Such a denial constitutes a revolution, a radical transformation; what emerges is not the Church but a new institution, devoted perhaps to worthwhile enterprises, but empty of all specifically Christian content.
And yet what of our original admission that it is proper and even necessary to introduce change? If God’s nature and acts do not change, and if his revelation concerning his nature and acts does not change, where, then, is change permissible?
To be heard as the Church, the Church can never change the basic content of what it has always taught. What is subject to change is our understanding of that content, and the way we express the unchangeable elements of our faith. Change is permissible and even desirable on this level of understanding and expression.
Often we see through a glass darkly. Progress is made, not by discarding what has been revealed, but by gaining a fuller and deeper comprehension of what has been revealed. Many of our theological and religious concepts are the means whereby we gain greater insight into the meaning of God’s revelation. As tools, they enable us to know what God would have us believe concerning himself and what he requires of us. By the continuing study of Scripture, the Christian is able to gain a more precise understanding of what the Holy Spirit intended to reveal. The work of the biblical theologian, of the exegete, at times reflects extrabiblical material. Something that is not in a text may be read in. The formulation of a doctrine may reflect elements that are foreign to the Scriptures. Each successive generation needs to take a fresh look at Scripture, preserving the timeless work of the Spirit while correcting false apprehensions that are due to the errors of the exegete.
Christians of all ages have accepted the biblical injunction to love our neighbors as ourselves. But who are our neighbors? The Viet Cong? What does it mean to love? Surely the vagueness of such concepts requires that we struggle further in our attempt to understand what God requires of us. Or again, that God created all that is belongs to the unchangeable data of revelation. But how are we to understand the meaning of the word “day” in Genesis?
God’s triune nature has not changed throughout the course of the centuries; but the Church’s understanding of that nature, its concepts of the Trinity, were clarified and made more precise by the early theological discussions and creedal formulations.
To increase our understanding, to clarify our concepts of what God has revealed, is not to abandon the Scriptures but rather to enrich our spiritual legacy. The witness of the Holy Spirit continues to lead us into all truth.
There is another area where change is legitimate. To be heard, the Church must express itself in the words of the day. It must constantly revise its vocabulary. Words are not to be identified with our theological concepts. The word “revelation” in English is a sign of our concept of revelation; a person who knows German has the same concept brought to mind by the word Offenbarung. Words are not concepts. Words are plastic means of communication—i.e., a single word serves many purposes, has many meanings, none of which is fixed or unchanging. Words are an indispensable means of communication; and yet in a sense they are arbitrary and artificial, since there is no necessary connection between the word we use and the thing we would describe, between the sound we make, the lines we draw, and the meaning we would convey, the idea we would impart. Words are simply artificial signs, constructed spontaneously or with painstaking care, invented to meet a new situation or to describe what is old. Words are transformed consciously or unconsciously; they are subject to gradual or sudden change and shifts in meaning, initiated by people at different times and places.
What the Church has to say is unchangeable, but the words it uses must change if the Church is to be understood. The need for change is recognized in connection with biblical translation; yet we are in danger of forgetting that the vocabulary of the pulpit, and of witnessing, is also in constant danger of becoming obsolete.
It is impossible to make a list of archaic words or pulpit clichés, of words that no longer communicate. To those brought up within the Church the old vocabulary may still be serviceable. But to an increasing number of people, the old words, at best, are simply sounds without sense or, at worst, evoke almost blasphemous caricatures of biblical truth.
There is no formula for eradicating clichés. We must develop an ear for language. If we feel that a word or expression is not conveying the biblical concept we wish to communicate, we must try to find a new word or expression that will—but do so prayerfully and thoughtfully.
Although most words are arbitrarily constructed and mean what we want them to mean, once they are chosen they acquire a conventional meaning. Over a period of time, however, some words take on new meanings and lose older ones. It is these shifts in sense that we must try to hear. Few people covet their neighbor’s ox; indeed, few have ever seen an ox. But people still “covet.” They want things they should not have, and they will sometimes do what is wrong to get them. What they want is a new car, someone else’s job, a color TV. There is nothing wrong with such things per se; it is people’s desire that is out of line. Their first concern should be what God wants for them, not what they want. Few people are afraid of swords, but most people are afraid of missiles. We know little of chariots but much of spacecraft. How many really know the meaning of “justification by faith,” “sanctification,” “atonement,” “accepting Christ as your personal Saviour,” “alienation,” “encounter,” “love,” “justice,” “faith,” “hope,” “concern,” “covenant,” “sacrament”? I am suggesting, not that we should dispense with such terms, but that we must constantly define them in words that are intelligible, words drawn from the lived experience of our hearers and readers and not from the experience of hearers and readers of yesteryear.
The truth once given to the saints is unchangeable. What God is, what he has done, what he has revealed is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Our understanding of what is unchanging changes as we increase in knowledge and grow in wisdom. The mode and manner of expressing the timeless content of revelation requires constant revision. The Christian Church cannot change what it has to say without ceasing to be the Christian Church. Yet it must ever be open to new ways of expressing the same old story. God has given us the enduring message. Our task is to find new ways of telling it to all men.
Let’S Give Chastity A Fighting Chance
Premarital pregnancy is a major problem of our times. The greatness of the problem cannot be shown with statistics, because all the cases cannot be known. But from cases that are recorded, we know that each year in the United States approximately one in every twelve births is illegitimate and about one million illegal abortions are performed, many on teen-age girls.
High on the list of causes of this problem is the sex obsession with which our culture constantly confronts young people. Yet the problem is ultimately a personal one, and “buck-passing” cannot be used to evade the real issue of personal responsibility.
The critical point of weakness is the inability of vast numbers of our teen-agers to say no and to stand up and be counted. Those who lack strong convictions of their own go along with the crowd. Although most of them do not intend to go beyond “petting,” “necking,” or, in more current terminology, playing “huggy-bear” or “smash-mouth,” they soon find that crossing their weakly drawn line is all too easy.
Magazine and newspaper writers are offering all sorts of advice on this vital subject. In general they play up the motives of respectability, self-esteem, and fear of future complications. But these motives, important as they are, are usually not strong enough to overcome the deeper emotions involved when a young person nears the point of no return in the petting game. Our teen-agers urgently need to develop a spiritual understanding of sex, strong convictions about the spiritual value of chastity, and the courage to stand up in defense of chastity.
Often premarital sex relations are defended as an expression of love; but true love does not take advantage of the other person and run the risk of bringing that person shame and heartache. Personality is both physical and spiritual, and whenever sexual intercourse involves only one phase of the personality, participants are always the losers. Thus premarital sex relations always leave their effect on the personality, because the spiritual aspect of the personality is violated. It is playing with the impossible to think that one can separate the physical from the spiritual in sex, or for that matter in any other part of life. Sex involves the entire life and personality, and to misuse sex is to abuse onself as well as one’s partner.
There are no easy formulas to follow in seeking an answer to the problem; yet some things are plain. Sex, a divine gift from our Heavenly Father, was never intended as a means of excitement or adventure, or as a tool for gaining favor or popularity. Neither was it meant to be a remedy for personal insecurity or an emotional escape mechanism.
God gave sex as a means for the production of new life and the complete expression of love, the total giving of self to another. When performed outside wedlock, the sexual act cannot fulfill its purpose and thus becomes debased. Instead of being the complete fulfillment of love, it causes the participants to feel unloving toward each other. Sexual intercourse between married partners is a continued source of mutual strength. Outside marriage, it becomes little more than a roulette wheel of emotional impulse.
Sex is too good to squander. Channeled and disciplined, it is a vital part of the divine plan for our lives. May our young people—with all their energy and desires, with their sense of adventure, their impulse to try anything once—think twice in this most important matter and give chastity a fighting chance.—HAROLD P. WELLS, chaplain (major), United States Army, Mannheim, Germany.
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Despite great obstacles the influence of the Bible in American life has continued to grow
This sesquicentennial year of the American Bible Society is an appropriate time to assess the place the Bible has had in the life of the United States and the contribution of the American Bible Society to this.
On first thought, the Bible seems to have been a major force in shaping American culture. At the outset of our independence as a nation, the overwhelming majority of the population, except for the Indians and the Negroes, was Protestant in background. All but a small minority sprang from stock of countries that were officially Protestant.
Part of the genius of Protestantism is its emphasis on the Scriptures as the inspired record of God’s dealing with man, of the salvation God has wrought through the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of his Son, and of the creation of his Church by his Holy Spirit. For the continuing vitality and even the survival of Protestantism, therefore, its rank and file must know and study the Bible.
Moreover, again and again we are reminded of the part that Protestant refugees from persecution in Europe had in laying the foundations of our nation, and of the firm faith of these refugees in the Scriptures. One of the founders of New England declared that God had yet more light to break out of his Holy Word, and this faith has inspired much of the American dream.
Yet from the nation’s beginning, even in the years of foundation-laying, the Protestant heritage, and with it the influence of the Bible, has been threatened and has seemed to wane. The religious impulse was not present among the large majority of the immigrants in colonial days. Instead they were driven by an economic motive—the desire for more of this world’s goods. So far as can be ascertained, when the Declaration of Independence was signed only about five out of a hundred persons were members of churches. Moreover, as thousands left the Atlantic seaboard and moved westward, the slight association they might have had with the Church and its faith dwindled.
Early travelers on the frontier reported the seeming godlessness of the new settlements. Disregard of religion, the flouting of Christian moral standards, and the absence of worship prevailed. With the nineteenth century came new waves of immigration from Europe, and only a few of the arrivals had religion as a dominant purpose. Millions were Roman Catholics who in their homelands had only slight if any touch with the Bible. Since then, biblical faith has been further threatened by urbanization and the decline of the small town and the rural life that Protestantism and the Bible did much to shape.
Despite these great obstacles, however, the influence of the Bible in American life has continued to grow. This generalization will seem to many quite contrary to facts. No one with his eyes open can fail to be aware of the gross ignorance of the Scriptures, not only among the public at large but also among those who call themselves Christians, even the members of Protestant churches.
Yet some incontrovertible data support this seemingly untrue statement. Outstanding among them is the growing proportion of the population who are members of Protestant churches. With two exceptions, each decade in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has seen that proportion advance. The exceptions are the decade of the Civil War, which brought a decline, and that of World War I, when there was neither advance nor decline.
Obviously, membership in a Protestant church does not insure a knowledge of the Bible. But Protestant instruction and Protestant worship are Bible-centered, and thus some familiarity with the Scriptures penetrates the church members and through them the national life. Moreover, the published totals of Protestant church membership are not an adequate measure of the influence of Protestantism, and so of the Bible. Some denominations include in their statistics only adult members and take no account of children who are under instruction that includes the Bible. Then, too, millions who have once been members of Protestant churches have, through one cause or another, been erased from the rolls. Yet they—and thousands of others who have occasionally attended churches or are members of fraternal orders whose rituals make a place for the Scriptures—have been exposed, though with tragic inadequacy, to the biblical message.
Moreover, sales of the Bible and of the Testaments year by year exceed those of any other book. The text most widely sold is the one that inaccurately bears the designation “Authorized” or “King James” Version. Yet in the last few years millions of copies of the Revised Standard Version have been sold, and other versions have from time to time had a wide circulation. In addition to all this is the encouraging fact that outside Protestantism, notably in Roman Catholic circles, study of the Bible is mounting.
How shall we account for this permeation of American life by the Bible? Obviously the chief reason is that the Bible was inspired by God and therefore speaks to men’s deepest needs. The fashion in which the biblical authors struggled with the basic issues of life has, in spite of changing historical situations, given answers to men’s persistent questions. The culmination of the Bible in the New Testament—the record of Christ with its mystery and unquenchable hope, and the record of the witnesses of the earliest Christians to Christ—has an inescapable appeal. Of secondary and yet crucial importance have been the means by which the Bible has been made accessible. Most Sunday school teaching is based on the Bible. Scripture readings are also a normal part of Christian worship. They are in the vernacular in Protestant worship and increasingly so in Roman Catholic worship. Many Protestant churches seek to encourage daily Bible reading by their members. Various nondenominational groups have as part of their discipline Bible study, both in groups and individually. The Gideons specialize in placing Bibles in hotels, motels, and other facilities for travelers.
An outstanding force in furthering the widespread use of the Bible in the United States is the American Bible Society. Since its organization in 1816 in New York City, the society has striven, with an amazing degree of success, to see that every American home and every American has a copy of the Bible or at least of the New Testament. From the beginning members have dreamed and acted with the entire nation as their objective. Four times in the society’s first hundred years a “general supply” was undertaken, with the purpose of placing a Bible in every family “destitute” of a copy. Between “general supplies” the society also endeavored to reach all the people. In its earlier years it was organized by “auxiliaries”—state, city, and county branches—and much of its achievement was through the voluntary labors of thousands in placing Bibles in the hands of individuals and families.
The society covered the growing cities in the East and emphasized the frontier. The area sometimes called the “Bible Belt” owes that designation in no small degree to the labors of the society in the days when that vast section was being settled. During the wars in which the country has been engaged, the American Bible Society has put Bibles and Testaments in the hands of men in the armed services. It has also helped to provide Bibles for the blind, for those in prisons and hospitals, for immigrants, and, after the emancipation, for the Negroes. And it assisted in translating and distributing the Bible in Indian languages.
The horizons of the American Bible Society have never been the national boundaries. From the beginning it has had in its purview the entire human race. Its organization was partly inspired by the British and Foreign Bible Society, twelve years its senior. Largely at the instance of this parent society, and later through the American society, Bible societies have been organized and aided in many countries.
In the present century all these bodies have been drawn together in the United Bible Societies, with the Archbishop of York as the current president. In celebration of the sesquicentennial of the American Bible Society, this global organization has as its breath-taking objective in this day of “literacy explosion” placing a copy of the Bible or at least a portion of the Bible in the hands of every literate person the world around. Already, through the efforts of many agencies, the Bible in whole or in part is available in more than a thousand tongues. The American Bible Society is helping to make Scripture available in the remaining hundreds of languages into which it has not been translated, some of which have not yet been reduced to writing. Here is a program to thrill every Bible-valuing heart.
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In October, 1889, Thomas A. Edison completed work on his kinetoscope, a peep-show device that brought a series of still pictures to jerky life. Soon Sunday-after-noon crowds at the Kinetoscope Parlor in New York City were watching animated snatches of vaudeville acts and boxing matches. Few would have believed that in less than half a century this queer little box from West Orange, New Jersey, would spawn a modern industry of immense power and controversy. By 1896 Edison had combined the magic lantern with his picture box. Then came the nickelodeon, Charlie Chaplin, “talkies,” 3-D, Cinerama, and John R. Rice’s little pamphlet, “What’s Wrong with the Movies?”
To Dr. Rice, writing in 1938, Edison’s invention was “the rival of schools and churches, and feeder of lust, the perverter of morals, the tool of greed, the school of crime, and the betrayer of innocence.” His pamphet, read by thousands, set out to prove that the motion picture was “an unmitigated curse … so vile in its influence that no Christian should ever set foot in a movie theater.”
Twenty years later Dr. Clyde Taylor, then secretary of public affairs for the National Association of Evangelicals, remarked that “evangelical Christians, as a rule, do not attend the movies.” Dr. Stephen W. Paine, president of Houghton College, picked up that remark and wrote a pamphlet in which he affirmed this “unpremeditated agreement of spirit … that we [evangelical Christians] do not attend the movies.”
Movie-Made Minors
Both Dr. Rice and Dr. Paine built their cases in good part around Henry James Forman’s book, Our Movie-Made Children (Macmillan, 1933), based on a study by the Motion Picture Research Council. This study reported that of the 50 million Americans who then attended movies on a weekly basis, 18.5 million were minors and 7.5 million were under fourteen.
“Alas,” said Rice, “nearly four times as many people attend the movies in America as attend Sunday school. They stay twice as long, and the movies have a far more thrilling scientific medium of appeal to the imagination and interest than the church.” Both pamphlets are rich in details illustrating the depravity of the motion picture.
The worst indictment leveled against the movie industry by both men concerned its effect on the spiritual life. “Doubtless,” Rice said, “in thousands, perhaps millions of cases, sinners become enamored of sin with the aid of movies and turn away from Christ never to repent, never to be saved, but to spend an eternity in hell. The spiritual results of the movies are incontestably worse than all the other results combined.”
Now, few would argue with the biblical and statistical evidence these men use to support their positions. Each has made a strong plea for an eleventh commandment, “Thou shalt not attend the motion picture”—a plea born out of a sincere desire to protect youth from the sex, sadism, and sensationalism that admittedly seem to dominate the screen. And yet—the whole truth must be faced. The Church cannot build walls high enough to protect her young people from the pressures of this modern age.
The Film Invades The Home
Television has enabled the motion picture to invade 47 million of America’s 53 million homes. A study by Elmo Roper and Columbia University reports that 90 per cent of the nation’s homes have a television set on one-third of every waking day. Another study indicates that the average American youth watches television twenty hours a week, or approximately one and one-half months of the year.
Pressures of the mass communications media no longer center in the theater; television has shifted the center to the home. Fortunately, there are Christian parents who understand the influence of this new medium and try to regulate its use; but the most careful parent soon realizes that complete control of the television habits of his children is very difficult, if not impossible, to attain.
If one thinks of the influence of television on young people along with the mounting pressures of advertising, paperback-book publication, the multi-million-dollar record and radio industries, and the situational ethic with its back-seat morality, he quickly realizes that to avoid the theater is to avoid the issue. The decision to ban the motion picture for evangelicals may have been valid in 1938, but in 1966 it must be seriously questioned.
No More Parrots
We must first define our attitude and responsibility toward modern Christian youth. Today’s student is trained to question, to analyze, and to make responsible judgments. He is no longer content to parrot decisions others have made. He wants to find the answer for himself. Some churchmen feel threatened by youth’s questions. They seek to avoid certain areas of social significance. Although their young people ask “Why?” again and again, they consistently avoid giving frank, realistic answers, hoping the questions will somehow go away. When will they realize that questioners, not questions, go away? If young people want to know, let us commit ourselves to helping them find out. No question should be ignored, no issue avoided.
Other churchmen attempt to legislate morality. They seek to suppress or postpone critical judgment and make obedient followers of youth by internalizing a condemning conscience. For a brief time these young people live in a clearly structured social world. Then comes adulthood, requiring a stream of value judgments that guilt cannot help them make. Often they rebel and leave the church, because they cannot relate their Christian faith to a modern, complex age.
The Church must neither avoid the issue nor make all the decisions for its youth. Its task, in the words of poet and critic John Ciardi, is to guide youth to “the ability to make judgments, to discriminate between good and bad, great and good, good and half good.” To build courageous Christian youth capable of making responsible decisions is a difficult and dangerous task, but it must be done. We must help them learn, as the Apostle Paul put it, how to “test everything and hold fast what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21, RSV).
It is time for us to reconsider the motion-picture question. When Christian youth have the courage to ask, “What does the Church think of movies?,” there are some leaders who mutter something about violence, sex, and Philippians 4:8 and then go home to watch “Bonanza” or Ed Sullivan. Others try to settle the question with a kind of moral truce. Some churches, Bible colleges, and seminaries will accept only those who pledge abstinence from movies. Reasons for this attitude are often rooted in another age. Look at the problem from the perspective of today’s youth. To tell a Christian teenager that “all films are evil” is to risk losing his respect, for he knows that films can be an exceptional source of entertainment, education, and even inspiration. Not only television but also the school and the church (with their extensive use of visual aids) have helped show him that.
To say that “all theaters are immoral places” is not true. Teen-agers know that theaters, like people, have individual reputations, and even Christian youth who have not attended movies know the difference between the clean, well-run neighborhood theater and the shabby drive-in at the edge of town.
To say that we “support an evil industry” when we attend a worthwhile film may have some validity; but the thinking young person knows that if we consistently supported only those industries with no evil aspects, we should be hard put to find a place to work, shop, or play. Also, youth have learned in their classes in government or economics that the law of supply and demand controls any industry. They know that tickets purchased for a decent film are ballots cast for more decent films.
To say that a youth “risks his Christian witness” by attending a good movie is questionable. Today’s Christian may also jeopardize his witness by making Christ and the Church appear completely other-worldly, impractical, and unappealing. A churchman can destroy a teen-ager’s witness by isolating him from his peers. Christian youth should be equipped by the Church to stand for their Lord in the midst of their contemporaries.
To say that even the best movie “might expose young people to subtle worldly influences” is to say something that is obvious to the honest teen-ager. Yet he also knows the impossibility of escaping these influences. He must be taught how to handle them.
It is only natural for the home or church to want desperately to protect young people against the evil influences of this age. Nevertheless, laying down rules against the pressures of the various media is like voting against a tidal wave. The wave is upon us. We must teach our youth to swim.
This essay is not a defense of the motion-picture industry, which surely deserves criticism. Its purpose is rather to seek ways to help youth become discriminating in their use of modern media. Young people need self-controls that will serve them when they turn on television, attend films or plays, choose books or magazines, or listen to the radio, records, or coffee-house folk singers.
A Most Influential Art
What is needed is a revised Christian philosophy of mass media arrived at through a re-evaluation of our attitude toward motion pictures, often called the greatest art of this century. Films are a product of machinery and equipment, and of technical and artistic skills. They are not inherently evil. Some in the industry, in their eagerness to meet the public’s demand, have indeed misused and corrupted the art. Yet there are many others who are anxious to communicate truth through films of high quality. Let us not condemn the art for the sins of many of its practitioners nor destroy the good in our enthusiasm to eliminate the bad. Above all, let us teach our youth how to discriminate. This is a day of laissez-faire in book publishing. Yet who of us would, because there are corrupt books printed, do away with publishing?
A television party for young people might be a natural place to begin developing standards. An evening might be planned at which a popular or controversial program is watched. Then, over cokes and potato chips, there could be a frank discussion of the show’s purpose, contest, and form. Did the program have something to say? Was it well said? Was it worth saying? Or was the program sheerly for entertainment? If so, did it entertain? Why? This kind of discussion in a Christian setting will help young people develop the ability to discriminate, to think critically, to understand the obvious and the subtle effects of the medium.
Leaders Must Learn First
But an honest leader soon realizes his own weakness in this area. He himself needs to learn how to view television critically. In his local library, he can find helpful articles, pamphlets, and books. He can get acquainted with local radio, television, or film executives and try to understand their point of view. We can only help others use the media well when we ourselves have developed a discriminating Christian taste.
Church libraries might have shelves with histories of the communications media, a grammar of film language, and several sources of responsible film and television criticism. Weekly TV guides in which desirable programs are circled might be posted. Thus the lurid and exaggerated advertising of the industry might be offset.
It should be made clear that these materials are intended as a help for those who attend the motion pictures, not as inducement to those who do not.
Further helpful discussion might concern how programs are selected for network release, how religion is handled by different media, and what opportunities lie in Christian radio, television, and film production. There might be a tour of a local broadcasting station with an interview of a staff member. Or a theater manager might be invited to a special forum to discuss how films are chosen for local release and how church people can influence local and national film standards. Young people might even plan a radio or television production, perhaps in cooperation with other church groups, as a local public-service program. When the media are better understood, they can be used effectively for Christian communication.
Again, there might be an interchurch film forum at which a controversial motion picture is shown preceded by a synopsis of the story and facts about the author’s background. After the film a panel might discuss the film frankly, with all present invited to share their own reactions. This kind of honest, Christ-centered discussion will do more to help young people develop good taste and judgment than warnings and rigid censorship.
Teen-agers are the biggest audience for radio, television, and movies. They need to develop responsible Christian stewardship in using these media. They will respond to the courageous presentation of conviction about what is inferior and debasing. And such positive action will help convince them that the Church really cares about their problems and that Christianity really works where people live.
For years we have feared motion pictures. With realistic awareness of their dangers, let us build in young people a constructive, discriminating attitude toward them.
A Long Way Behind Wesley
The lay preacher mounted the steps of the polished pulpit, eyed the small congregation, and launched into his subject. “My friends,” he declared grandly, carefully placing the large pulpit Bible on the seat behind him, “we are here to consider the mythological content of the resurrection narrative within its litero-philosophic framework. My reading is taken from the abridged version of Doctor Fillibust’s monumental theological work, What Is, Is. Whilst the doctor is not a member of any denomination, he considers himself a representative of a new community-oriented worshiping group within the united church of the future. Denominations are, as we all understand, mere accidents of historic change.”
The lay preacher took a slim, yellow-covered book out of his briefcase and held it up a moment. Then opening it carefully he said, “Our reading is from Doctor Fillibust’s first chapter: ‘Historic perspective and the search for ascertainable fact are products of a scientific, rationalistic era. But since our basic thought patterns are created in early environment, it follows that, in a time of rapid change, our basic beliefs are obsolescent. Thus, in examining what the ancient world considered to be the truth—if you will momentarily excuse the word ‘truth’—we should regard the prophets as children.… To put it simply, they believed what they believed because they were unable to believe anything else. We, on the other hand, are more fortunate. By understanding the ways in which beliefs are structured, we can organise creational concepts appropriate to the needs of modern society.’”
An elderly saint in the back row of the church unwrapped a peppermint. Almost every week, at about this time, he placed one in his mouth.
“And now,” the lay preacher continued, “let us sing a hymn.”
Like the organ, the hymns were quite elderly, and the lay preacher, steeped as he was in the modern outlook, always found it a little difficult to choose one that did not offend his respect for modern science. He suggested that the congregation sing a few carefully selected verses of a hymn couched in fairly general terms. Where it offended him, he just refrained from singing. This brief interruption concluded, the preacher began his discourse.
“I want you to realize, my friends,” he said gravely, “that this book is not to be confused with other so-called liberal interpretations that only confuse the issue.”
The organist, a nervous man, accidentally pressed the C sharp key, and a shrill note echoed through the building.
“If we want to grasp the fruits of modern theology,” the lay preacher continued earnestly, “we must wrestle with the vocabulary involved. And we must not be disheartened if at first we do not understand it.”
He leaned over the pulpit and looked intensely sympathetic. “At first, I didn’t understand this book,” he confessed. “I was baffled. And then I discovered the main theme.… You see, my friends, to put it simply.…”
He paused. On reflection, he was not at all sure that it could be put simply, and he had already spoken for nearly twenty-five minutes. “Even if the events described by the apostles didn’t really happen,” he went on triumphantly, “they are still significant, because the apostles said they happened. They were, in fact, rationalising a reorientation that had involved a profound psychological experience. If they had possessed our knowledge of clinical psychology, they would have described matters quite differently. Now, all this is good news.”
He now spoke with less enthusiasm. Actually, he hadn’t been able to follow the learned doctor beyond chapter three of the epoch-making book.
“It means that we can adopt a pragmatic, rationalistic approach to our church activities, in terms of social significance and group dynamics.” He smiled. “We can abandon tradition without the smallest twinge of conscience, because what our fathers believed, they believed only because their circumstances made them believe it. They didn’t have our grasp of … of.…” Outside the sky darkened. Someone moved and switched on the church lights.
“My time is up,” the lay preacher concluded. “But I urge you all to go home and read Doctor Fillibust’s book.”
The congregation nodded politely. After the meeting the lay preacher, beaming at the door, encountered a man of similar donnish appearance.
“I enjoyed what you had to say, brother,” the stranger said, “but you must have the doctor’s 1961 edition.” He took the slim yellow-covered book and examined the flyleaf. “Ah, yes,” he remarked. “This is the 1961 edition. All this is rather old-fashioned. The 1965 revision is called What Is, Is Not. You should read it sometime.”
As the two men talked, Mr. Furze, the devout church secretary, sat in a pew and quietly said his prayers.—DAVID LAZELL (a lay preacher in the Congregational Church of England), Bingham, Nottingham, England.
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New-theology deviations and modernist substitutions are readily seen to be unacceptable
The truth of the Gospel can find indigenous expression in any age and culture without losing anything of its essential treasure. New insights into the faith once for all delivered are a proper product of ongoing theological study. It is one thing, however, to produce new articulations of the faith using contemporary thought-forms; it is quite another to adopt a prejudice against the supernatural and build a “new theology” on presuppositions unwarranted by Christianity’s early records and incompatible with two thousand years of Christian experience. If we call the latter theological subversion, it is out of a preference for scholarly objectivity, not because we are die-hard ultra-conservatives.
Of course, if the Christianity that the apostles preached to the world in all its saving light, life, and love has actually been a gigantic hoax, and God in his mysterious providence has waited until now to get the real truth of the matter across, then we must wish the theological subversives Godspeed. Perhaps then we should borrow C. S. Lewis’s figure of Christians as God’s fifth column in the enemy-occupied country and call the adherents of the new theology God’s fifth column for the subversion of a Church inimically occupied by trinitarians!
If, however, New Testament Christianity is both historically and theologically reliable, we must decide how to deal with what must surely be reckoned as theological subversion. And, since we hate to be at variance with our brethren, we must try to understand the motivation of those who busy themselves in destroying the truths upon which the Church was built. In the words of the Psalmist: “If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (11:3).
Frontal attacks on the Christian faith have rarely made great headway. The “God is dead” talk is so far out as to be resisted even by some of the other radical theologians who themselves are actually more subversive, because they are backed by structures of authority. These theologians claim to have the new word for the new age. They want us to think that they alone are intellectually respectable; the rest of us are ridiculed as mythologically oriented people who have not caught up with the Copernican revolution. Among their campaign tactics is the straw-man technique of saying that orthodox Christians are wedded to the pre-Copernican three-story universe. No intelligent Christian, however, has ever considered the Christian Gospel to be tied to any particular concept of the visible universe, although, as Bishop Stephen Neill says in his recent book on The Interpretation of the New Testament, “both theologians and laymen may be excused if they hold the view that the ancient language, if not taken with absurd literalism, is the best that could be found to express certain great religious ideas” (p. 227).
Untenable Conclusions
Despite their alleged up-to-dateness, the theological revolutionaries have been unable to come up with doctrinal conclusions any more exciting than the heretical positions that the really “honest-to-God” scholarship of the Catholic Church rendered untenable long before Copernicus upset the Aristotelian concept of matter adopted by Thomas Aquinas. These positions will doubtless remain untenable long after Martin Heidegger has served as a happy hunting ground for existentialist reinterpretations of Christianity.
The new-theology people picture the contemporary Christian layman as a theological moron who is either puzzled or else unthinkingly comfortable as he repeats the old creedal language in which Christ is said to “come down from heaven,” “descend into hell,” and “ascend into heaven.” But the Christian layman instinctively realizes that these phrases subsume in vivid, concrete images the wealth of mystery and saving truth in the mighty acts about which he reads in the Gospels and which have impinged upon him in his spiritual experience. He also finds the modernist’s substitute language pedantically abstract, verbose, and far less “relevant” and meaningful. To see this, all that theological teachers need is a saving experience of Jesus Christ; and this can happen as readily to the scholar as to the one in the comfortable or uncomfortable pew.
Theological or doctrinal Christianity is the product of Christ’s fulfilled promise to send the Holy Spirit as “the Spirit of truth” whose role would include guiding the apostles into all truth—the truth we now have in the New Testament. This is not to say that there has been no ongoing work of the Holy Spirit’s guidance since the apostolic age. But it is to say that there is a certain abiding apostolic foundation for the Christian faith, and that any reconstruction that undermines this foundation is subversive and untrustworthy.
The truth as it is in Jesus has nothing to fear from the new knowledge of and changes in outlook on the universe brought about by ever-continuing scientific and philosophical thought. Evangelical Christians need not apologize for continuing to return to the Bible as the fountainhead of saving truth. Heidegger and Wittgenstein have had no more success in rendering the faith of the Bible untrustworthy than did Descartes and Kant. Nor will existentialist and positivist theologians succeed in producing a reconstructed faith intellectually more convincing than that held by articulate evangelicals who believe that God has spoken and that his Word, incarnate in Christ, will not pass away.
Broken Hammers
Original, first-century Christianity is an anvil on which many hammers have been broken. Its very existence today is a challenge to all to investigate its ongoing power among men of every age and educational level. And its implications for time and eternity are so tremendous that no one can afford not to find out whether it is true or not. The God who is the Author of it, if he is the Author of it, would not be so unjust as not to put within everyone’s reach a sure means of finding out whether it is true or not. Anyone can find out by studying the records of the eye-witnesses and offering himself unreservedly to be taught by God’s Spirit. A man might pray; “O God, I cannot find out by my own unaided wisdom; but if you will show me, I am willing to be made willing to follow all the light you give me.”
The trouble with most unbelievers is not that they are unable but that they are unwilling to believe. They are afraid to know the truth, lest knowing it they will be committed to believing it, and thus to obeying it. Christ is a “stone of stumbling” to everyone who wants to remain in an attitude of suspended judgment, to everyone unwilling to believe because he is unwilling to obey.
No one has a right to subvert or detheologize the Christianity of the New Testament who has not first tried it on its own terms and has not seriously considered its claim that God has taken the initiative in self-revelation, that theological Christianity is the result of that divine initiative, and that the revelatory principle is permanently available and operative (as expressed, for instance, in John 1:12 and 7:17). No one need remain in ignorance; but those who are unwilling to know and believe will remain in darkness.
The Holy Spirit will make you a Christian believer if you will let him. Will you let him? If you do, you will find yourself with a clearly articulated creed. You will find yourself believing from the heart all the theological statements of the historic creeds, and the anointing of the Holy Spirit will enable you to see that your “conservative” Christian faith harmonizes perfectly well with the new knowledge of the universe derived from non-revelational sources. For the Holy Spirit is given precisely “to open men’s eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light.” There has never been, nor will there ever be, any essential deviation from the creeds in men and women who have been taught by God’s Spirit, that Spirit who, as the Nicene Creed says, “spoke by the prophets,” the human authors of the Old and New Testament records.
The Heart Of Theology
The central doctrinal affirmation of theological Christianity, the truths which are a scandal to the unitarian mind and for which Christian martyrs have died, are these: The en-man-ment of God the eternal Word; his atoning death on the cross; his mighty resurrection; his glorious ascension as the God-Man, the Mediator between God and man, to the strategic position of “all power” at God’s “right hand,” where through the Holy Spirit, his vice-gerent in the continuing stream of history, he administers the saving efficacy of his once-for-all victory over sin, death, Satan, and hell; and finally, his work as Consummator, the Lord of history and of history’s beyond. In the life of the Church, theological Christianity is liturgically expressed by the ministry of the Word and Sacraments in the corporate worship and the constantly renewed self-oblation of the people of God as they are faithful to their missionary role in the world.
What motivates men to oppose the faith in its “conservative” (New Testament) form? What basic ideas and tendencies in men cause them to make humanist substitutions for the clear witness of the Bible? It is not surprising that men who find themselves in a kind of counter-apostolate to the Church’s faith as apostolically founded acquire an emotional revulsion toward all whose thought accords with the apostolic tradition. The striking thing, however, is such persons’ irrational unwillingness to consider lines of evidence that might threaten their avant-garde status. It seems as if they have prayed (with apologies to St. Augustine): “O Lord, show me the truth as it is in Jesus, but not yet.”
Original sin is at work in all of us, and not least in the theological thinker. Thus it is possible for apostasy to arise in the Church, just as it is possible for subversive movements to arise within the political sphere and anarchic movements within secular society. Unremitting vigilance against man-centered theological subversion is the price the Church must pay to guard against destroying itself and society with it.
Christ was persecuted precisely for his manifest glories, and the Cross remains for all of us the “sign” by which we “conquer.” Via crucis via lucis. The earliest biblical example of theological subversion may be seen in the broken faith and then in the broken fellowship of the first family. Cain rebelled violently against the revealed religion of his father as faithfully practiced by his brother Abel. In the early days of the Christian Church, Stephen was stoned because of the odium theologicum in religionists who lacked the spiritual conversion Paul later so dramatically evinced. And from that day to this, Christians have been persecuted simply because, as spiritual regenerates, they inevitably serve as a rebuke to those who, like Saul, “kick against the goads.”
LAMENT
Weep, weep for those
Who do the work of the Lord
With a high look
And a proud heart!
Their voice is lifted up
In the streets, and their cry is heard.
The bruised reed they break
By their great strength, and the smoking flax
They trample.
Weep not for the quenched
(For their God will hear their cry
And the Lord will come to save them)
But weep, weep for the quenchers!
For when the Day of the Lord
Is come, and the vales sing
And the hills clap their hands
And the Light shines
Then their eyes shall be opened
On a waste place,
Smoldering,
The smoke of the flax bitter
In their nostrils,
Their feet pierced
By broken reed-stems …
Wood, hay, and stubble,
And no grass springing,
And all the birds flown.
Weep, weep for those
Who have made a desert
In the Name of the Lord!
EVANGELINE PATERSON
What then is the secret of the quiet assurance of God’s faithful witnesses that they have power to out-think, outlove, and outlive their adversaries? What gives them the power to be God’s chosen agents in the work of reconciliation? What keeps them holding their theology unashamed?
The answer lies in Christ’s resurrection and the fellowship of believers with the living Lord. Christians know that when they trustfully surrendered to Christ, they “tasted the powers of the world to come.” They find they can speak experientially and thus theologically of that of which their baptism spoke sacramentally—namely, that their self-centered old nature has somehow been “buried with Christ in his death,” and that a new or Christian nature has been given them in a veritable “resurrection with Christ.” Christ, in the days of his flesh, spoke of his atoning work for a world’s salvation as a “baptism” with which he alone could be baptized; likewise, in the days after his resurrection he directed his disciples to “make disciples of all nations” and initiate them into those saving fruits of his once-for-all “baptism” that, while available for all, can be enjoyed only by spiritual rebirth and expressed only in sound theological (trinitarian) language.
Christians may or may not be theologically literate; yet they all are embryo-theologians. Their theological maturing is faster and more natural than that of unregenerate religionists, because the Holy Spirit gives them the ability to distinguish between the true and the false, although their ability to express their position may require biblical theological study.
The Double Pull
So the double tension is here to stay; on the one hand, the mystery of rebelliousness and the element of irrationality in unregenerate man; on the other, the ongoing story of invincible truth as incarnate in the Lord Jesus Christ, enshrined in the historic creeds, articulated in orthodox Christian theology, and transmuted into adoration and praise in Christian worship. This truth is the hidden source of dynamism in Christian living and Christian mission and in all the self-forgetting usefulness of Christians to their generation.
There is no escaping this double pull. Let us accept it as one of the conditions of life. Indeed, let us welcome it as an opportunity to do battle for the truth, to rescue the perishing, and to enjoy a foretaste of that promised final vindication of the Christ of the manger, of the empty tomb, and of the Mount of Olives. Then we shall reign with him and join in the song: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing.… Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.”
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“Christ is a stranger to our world and to our times, one whom we love but do not love well.…”
Two general approaches to the formulation of theological truth reflect a basic polarity of method. On the one hand, theology may proceed from human experience to the revelatory claims of Scripture, and on the other, it may proceed from Scripture toward experience and the sense of life. The former approach is that of philosophical theology and its allied disciplines. What remains uncertain in this technique is the role, if any, that the Bible plays in theological formulation. At times this approach may adhere closely to Scripture and assign to it a critical function; but the discipline itself does not require this, and consequently the Bible often appears to serve only as a handmaid to theology, not as its source and norm. It is therefore no accident that theology constructed from the polarity of human experience and reason sometimes exhibits no organic relationship to revelation, with the result that the representations of God, Christ, and salvation bear little resemblance to what is found concerning these matters in Scripture.
Theology that proceeds from experience and reason to Scripture tends to judge the data of revelation by strictly human canons of judgment. This reveals a basic assumption about the quality and authority of revelation, for only what accords with experience is admitted to consideration. One New Testament scholar states repeatedly in his book on Christology that “a sane person, not to say a good person, just could not think of himself in such a way,” that is, as Son of Man, Messiah, and so on. Again, the author refers to the “difficulty of seeing how Jesus could have been … aware of himself as ‘the Son of Man who would one day come on the clouds of heaven’ to establish ‘a kingdom which is not of this world.’ … What kind of mentality are we attributing to Jesus when we make him subject to this kind of conflict and division?” (John Knox, The Death of Christ, pp. 65–67). Regardless of what other judgments may be made of such a theological method, it clearly has not come to terms with the New Testament claims for the Incarnation. It assumes that since there are no parallels or analogies in general human experience, Jesus must have been about like any other man.
The contrary methodology in theology and preaching holds that theology is a function of revelation, and that revelation becomes credible to the Church in the Holy Scriptures. To proceed from revelation to human experience is to assume that theological work stands within the tradition of the entire Church, a tradition that begins with the New Testament itself. This is to say that the closest possible connection exists between exegesis and preaching, and between exegesis and the theological enterprise. If Karl Barth is correct in saying that theology is “the scientific test to which the Christian church puts herself regarding the language about God which is peculiar to her” (Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, I/1, p. 1), then that language about God that is peculiar to her is found in the Bible. Without a conscious reference to Scripture as the objective canon of theology and preaching, the base of operation and authority suffers loss. Philosophical theology has a legitimate function in the spectrum of human thought and may well serve as a handmaid to the theological task; but when it displaces the Scripture as the norm, then it has become a tyrant and not a servant.
One of the classic questions of theology is whether a particular era and culture judges the Bible, or whether the Bible judges the era and culture. The theological method that operates from revelation to human experience affirms that, despite the difficulties of understanding the sense of Scripture, we stand under its judgment, and not vice versa. It confesses that the Word of God brings our thoughts, our morals, our philosophy, our civilization, and our sense of values under divine scrutiny, and also establishes the norm of theology and proclamation.
The New Testament makes some astonishing claims about its central figure, Jesus of Nazareth, for he is portrayed as the God-man. John 1:1 speaks of him as the Word, and Hebrews 1:1 says he “bears the very stamp” of God’s nature. But in the New Testament picture, Jesus also exhibits all the essential features of true human nature, for Philippians 2:7 says he assumed the “form of a servant.” A question parallel to that above is asked concerning the humanity of Christ: Do we judge his humanity in terms of our own fallen and distorted humanity, or do we judge our humanity in terms of the image of God made visible to us in Christ? To initiate theology with the assertions about the Incarnation is to formulate the proper question, so that we no longer ask, “Is Jesus as human as I am?,” but rather, “Am I as human as he is?”
Since the very first days of the Christian faith, the Christ we preach has been the object of inquiry. Jesus himself at about the mid-point of his ministry asked his followers the question: “Who do men say that I am?” It might be said that the balance of the New Testament is given over to answering that question in a colorful variety of forms and affirmations. The New Testament is the compendium of the several confessions of the entire primitive Church concerning the identity of Jesus Christ and the meaning of his life and Passion. It is not primarily a devotional book or a sourcebook of dogma. It is the dynamic witness of the first generation of Christians to their Lord.
The first Christians responded to the question of the identity and meaning of Jesus of Nazareth not with one answer but rather with a variety of answers; Vincent Taylor has collected fifty or more ways in which the Church spoke to this basic question. But Oscar Cullmann has discerned some ten specific titles of Christ in the New Testament that in a profound and critical manner identify Jesus Christ. Believing that Jesus Christ was no ordinary mortal, the writers of the New Testament spoke of him with several titles that suggest his pre-existence with God the Father, which is to say that he is a divine figure; so it is that John calls him the “Logos,” or the eternal Word of God who became incarnate in human form. As such he is not only the bearer of revelation of God; he is the revelation of God, a theme met again in the Fourth Gospel when Jesus’ words are recorded this way: “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” Jesus is also spoken of as the Son of God, a designation upon which the balance of his messianic ministry rests. At his baptism the voice from above speaks of him as “my beloved Son.” At the temptation experience the words are hurled at Jesus, “if you are the Son of God …,” an effort to probe into the fundamental element of Jesus’ self-awareness. And a few of the writers of the New Testament do not hesitate to speak of Jesus simply as “God.” It is in the Fourth Gospel that this answer appears most boldly, when Thomas, viewing Jesus’ wounds after the resurrection, confesses, “My Lord and my God!”
Books About Jesus
Ralph Waldo Emerson has said, “The name of Jesus is not so much written as plowed into the history of the world.” And men never tire of reading about Him.
No person in history has been the subject of so many books as has Jesus Christ. Each year this number increases as devoted minds and hearts seek to extol His greatness and His redeeming love and work. The Apostle John says that His works were so many that, should they all be written down, “even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written” (John 21:25). And this might also be said of the books which seek to interpret His Person, teachings and work.—HERSCHEL HOBBS, The Life and Times of Jesus (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan Publishing House, 1966), p. 7.
Jesus’ identity in terms of his Incarnation is seen in a number of answers, the first of which is “prophet.” When the woman at Sychar called Jesus a prophet (John 4:19), she was reflecting what was probably the earliest popular assessment made of Jesus. And he was indeed a prophet. It was Jesus who boldly overturned centuries of Jewish tradition by saying, “You have heard that it is said.… But I say to you.…” Moreover, as a prophet, speaking for God, he met a typical prophetic end of death, and that in Jerusalem, the place of destiny for so many of God’s spokesmen. Jesus’ earthly ministry was marked by his assumption of the role and ministry of the Servant of the Lord, that mysterious figure foreseen in the prophecy of Isaiah eight centuries before Christ. The burden of much of the preaching in the first chapters of Acts is the conviction that Jesus of Nazareth was indeed the Suffering Servant by whose death saving benefit is conferred upon all who embrace him. The entire doctrine of the Atonement rests upon Jesus’ fulfillment of this ministry in a unique way.
The author of Hebrews furthers this theme by representing Jesus as the High Priest who was like the high priests of ancient Israel in that he made an offering for the sins of all the people but who differed from them in that he himself was the offering for the sins of the whole world. His earthly mission was also the fulfillment of Israel’s hopes for the coming of the Messiah, God’s anointed King over Israel. At his trial Jesus was asked if he was the Messiah (Mark 14:62), and he admitted that he was. This confession on Jesus’ lips is the direct reason we today call ourselves “Christians,” for by this we confess him to be our King. When we consider the title “Son of Man,” we stand in a special place, for this name or designation of Jesus is his own form of self-identification. It is far more than what it has been traditionally thought to be, simply an indication of Jesus’ humanity. In fact, it speaks far more to his deity than to his humanity, for he is that person prefigured in the prophecy of Daniel who resides with the “Ancient of Days” and is his vice-regent upon earth.
The last group of titles that are answers to the question “Who is Jesus Christ?” refer to his work to be done, his work that is yet future for us. So it is that Jesus is spoken of as “Saviour” in the New Testament, although not as often as is commonly supposed. This may appear strange, in view of the general consideration that Jesus’ saving work is past rather than future; but Titus 2:13 suggests that Jesus’ office as Saviour relates not only to the redemptive work of the past but also to the future, for the text speaks of the “appearing of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ.” But the most majestic and the most reverent title of veneration and worship ascribed to Jesus Christ by the early Church was “Lord,” by which they meant to say that the worship and adoration once reserved for Yahweh were now also given to Jesus Christ. No more convincing and powerful title pointing to the deity and majesty of Jesus Christ could have been chosen, and it has become in the total life of the Church the predominant title of praise given to him.
A tradition of New Testament criticism found principally in Germany and including such scholars as Wrede, Reitzenstein, and Bousset in a past generation, and those of the Bultmann school in modern times, has insisted that no historical confidence may be placed in these New Testament titles and ascriptions of deity to Jesus. Behind this position lies the assumption that Jesus cannot have been in any significant way different from any other man of his age, and consequently that those elements of the gospel narrative that imply or explicitly state that Jesus felt himself to be the eternal Son are nothing more than the concocted and editorialized reflections of the Evangelists, who rewrote the history of Jesus to make him a divine figure in the pattern of the Greek mystery-religion deities. In this case we do not have access to Jesus’ mind, these critics say; the Gospels present us with nothing other than the inventory of the religious and psychological states of mind of the writers of the New Testament. Jesus disappears into the inaccessible reaches of murky history, and we cannot know what he thought of himself.
Is such a skepticism justified in terms of historical reconstruction of the gospel narratives? In general, not only many Continental scholars but also nearly all English-speaking New Testament students find this an unworkable scheme, whether considered from the standpoint of history or of theology. Too many questions remain unanswered in this hypothesis, and we are asked to accept a program that requires more credulity than does the simple gospel record. In the end of the matter, Jesus Christ must be recognized as the author of the entire Christian tradition, and we acknowledge and worship him as Lord for the simple reason that he knew himself to have secured the right to this worship by his Passion and his exaltation to the right hand of God.
As a confessional document of the Church, the New Testament proposes a colorful and provocative variety of ways of answering the ancient query, “Who is Jesus Christ?” These answers were suitable, even persuasive, for that generation of Christian witnesses, preachers, missionaries, and teachers, people confronted by a hostile society that tended to regard them at best as foolish and at worst idolators. Today the same question persists, “Who is Jesus Christ?” But the context in which the Church lives is dynamic and always under change, and thus the Church must restate and reaffirm its faith in language and forms of expression that strike a response of faith today. So the New Testament not only offers a number of answers to this question but also shows the method for answering it.
The modern problem can be seen in regard to the title “Lord.” This title originated in the landed nobility of an England that no longer exists. Today, in a democratic society like America, we do not easily tolerate “lords,” and apart from religion the word has a poor connotation. Therefore the real issue lies not in the word itself but in the inner and deeper problem of modern allegiances. In First Corinthians 12:3, Paul writes that no one can call Jesus “Lord” except by the Holy Spirit; by this he means that in the political context of that day, when Caesar claimed to be Lord and even God, the Christian was sometimes called upon to declare his final allegiance to Christ alone, and not to Caesar. Today we have no Caesars demanding our final loyalties, but perhaps the problem re-emerges in the subtler form of a strident nationalism or an economic imperialism that challenges the, rightful and exclusive place of Christ in our lives. Thus we will have to express the Lordship of Christ so as to acknowledge him to be superior to all forms of statism and twentieth-century Caesarism. The Christian Church in Nazi Germany learned this lesson at the cost of blood in our generation.
Who is the Christ we preach? He is the Jesus of the Gospels, the Jesus Christ who was Paul’s Lord, the Jesus Christ who was crucified in Jerusalem and who was raised for our justification on the third day. He is the center of the life of the entire Church of all ages; he is its head, its norm, faithfully disclosed to the believing community in the pages of Holy Writ. He was and is a stranger to our world and to our times. He is one whom we confess as Lord but do not fully comprehend, whom we love but do not love well, whom we serve but as unfaithful servants, whom we seek but from whose presence we flee. He is both Jesus of Nazareth and Lord of all, the same yesterday, today, forever.
The Word Of God
This book, God’s Word, is an exceedingly dangerous book for me, and it is a domineering book.… But there is a … way of defending oneself against God’s Word.… For take the Holy Scriptures—shut thy door; but also ten dictionaries, twenty commentaries, and then thou canst read it just as tranquilly and unembarrassed as thou dost read a newspaper column.… All this interpretation and interpretation and science and newer science which is introducted with the solemn and serious claim that this is the way rightly to understand God’s Word—look more closely and thou wilt perceive that this is with the intent of defending oneself against God’s Word.… I insert layer upon layer, interpretation and science and more science (pretty much as a boy inserts a napkin, or several of them, under his pants when he is about to get a thrashing).… I insert all this between the Word and myself, and then bestow upon this commentating and scientific method the name of seriousness and zeal for the truth, and then let this busy occupation swell to such proportions that I never come to the point of getting an impression of God’s Word, never come to the point of beholding myself in the mirror.—SOREN KIERKEGAARD, For Self-Examination and Judge for Yourselves and Three Discourses 1851, tr. by Walter Lowrie (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1944), pp. 56,59,60.
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Preparatory to the opening of our branch editorial office in suburban Toronto next month, the Rev. J. Berkley Reynolds of the Atlantic provinces, Canada, is spending the month of July with us in Washington. The new office will be located at 1125 Leslie Street, Don Mills, Ontario, in a modern suburban complex that also houses such evangelical enterprises as the Leighton Ford Crusades and World Wide Pictures. Its opening comes appropriately on the threshold of the 1967 Canadian centennial and reflects our desire to serve Canadian readers more fully.
Mr. Reynolds is an ordained minister of the United Church of Canada. He holds the A.B. from Mt. Allison University, the B.D. from Pine Hill Divinity Hall, and the Th.M. from Fuller Theological Seminary.
Premier Ernest C. Manning of Alberta, an outspoken evangelical leader, has voiced the hope that the Canadian centennial will become the occasion of national moral and spiritual renewal. CHRISTIANITY TODAY hopes to reflect this development and, indeed, to contribute to it. (Charter subscribers will recall that Premier Manning contributed one of the major essays to the initial issue of this magazine a decade ago.)
John Warwick Montgomery
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Karl marx religiously believed that religion is the opiate of the people. Now the conviction is growing in avant-garde circles that an opiate can become the religion of the people.
The drug in question is D-lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD-25), one of a group of “psychedelic” (consciousness-expanding) agents that includes peyote, mescaline, psilocin, and psilocybin. In the last two decades, interest in these drugs has greatly increased. During the winter of 1962–63, President Pusey of Harvard removed from his psychology staff Drs. Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert for unscientific and dangerous experimentation with psychedelics. “You may be making Buddhas out of everyone,” the university told them, “but that’s not what we’re trying to do.”
Exiled from academia, Leary and Alpert devoted their energies to their “International Federation for Internal Freedom,” in which continued experimentation with the drug experience could be promoted. Last December, Leary was arrested in Texas for illegally transporting and failing to pay taxes on marijuana and was given the maximum sentence (thirty years plus $40,000 in fines).
Cases of psychotic behavior as a result of LSD “trips” have been making the press of late, and Dr. Donald Louria of the New York County Medical Society reports that during the last year seventy-five persons were admitted to Bellevue as a result of LSD reactions. The serious medical literature on LSD has continued to multiply (see the exhaustive “Annotated Bibliography” published by Sandoz Pharmaceuticals, the only legal manufacturer of the drug—which recently stopped all deliveries of LSD).
Our interest here is not in the chemical or psychological aspects of the psychedelics (for a discussion of their value in controlled psychotherapy and treatment of alcoholism, consult the October, 1965, issue of Pastoral Psychology). We wish to focus attention on the repeated claim that LSD offers a prime avenue to ultimate religious reality.
In the course of Leary’s Harvard experiments, sixty-nine religious professionals (about half of Christian or Jewish persuasion and the rest adherents of Eastern religions) took psychedelic drugs; over 75 per cent reported intense mystico-religious experiences, and more than half asserted that they had had the deepest spiritual experience of their life (Psychedelic Review, I [1964], 325). Pahnke’s 1963 Harvard doctoral dissertation supports these claims by reporting a statistically significant, controlled experiment in which drugs were administered to ten theology students and professors in the setting of a Good Friday service, while ten others received only placebos; “those subjects who received psilocybin experienced phenomena which were indistinguishable from, if not identical with … the categories … of mysticism.” Professor Walter Clark of Andover Newton states that his psychedelic vision was “like Moses’ experience of the burning bush.”
What interpretation should be placed upon such claims? Roman Catholic scholar R. C. Zaehner, in his book, Mysticism, Sacred and Profane, argues that the drug experience, as exemplified by Aldous Huxley in his Doors of Perception, is at best a blend of monistic and nature mysticism but does not reach the level of genuinely theistic, Christian mysticism. The Native American Church of the North American Indians, however, claims that Jesus gave the peyote plant to them in their time of need, and, according to Slotkin, they “see visions, which may be of Christ Himself” (cf. Huston Smith, “Do Drugs Have Religious Import?,” in LSD, ed. Solomon [1964], pp. 152–67). In these latter cases, the drug is evidently viewed as a means of grace, not as an opus operatum or magical device.
Yet Zaehner makes an important point: the psychedelic experience has generally been understood in terms of monistic mysticism, particularly its Eastern forms. Alan Watts relates it to Zen. Leary and Alpert have published a manual for LSD “trips” based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead. The vast majority of selections included in Ebin’s anthology, The Drug Experience (1961; 1965), are written from non-Christian standpoints.
Why is this so? William James suggested the answer as long ago as 1902 when he described his experience with nitrous oxide: “The keynote of it is invariably a reconciliation. It is as if the opposites of the world, whose contradictoriness and conflict make all our difficulties and troubles, were melted into unity” (The Varieties of Religious Experience, lectures 16 and 17).
The drug experience, though it may be integrated into a Christian context, never requires such integration, and in fact leads the unwary to believe that the reconciliation of the fallen world can be achieved simply by consciousness (or unconsciousness) expansion. Scripture, however, makes clear beyond all shadow of doubt that true reconciliation occurs solely when a man faces up to his sin and accepts the atoning work of the historic Christ in his behalf. LSD offers the deceptive possibility of bypassing the Cross while achieving harmony within and without. Like Altizer’s chimerical endeavor to gain the “conjunction of opposites” through the substitution of a mystical, fully kenotic “Christ” for the historical Jesus, psychedelic mysticism tries to reconcile all things apart from the only Reconciler.
The tragedy of the LSD gospel (which is not a gospel) is nowhere more evident than in its use with dying patients. Dr. Sidney Cohen reports the last days of “Irene,” terminally ill with cancer. She had “no religion, no hope,” and was given LSD. Then she faced death calmly: “Once you see the pattern of the vortex, it all fits,” she said (Harper’s, September, 1965). Did she see the world aright? Was her consciousness truly expanded? French psychedelic specialist Roger Heim noted that under the influence of the drug his handwriting, in reality black, appeared red; and a cat, given the drug, recoils in fear from a mouse. Reality? No. The only religious “trip” that avoids irrational fear, sees the blackness of the world for what it is, and transmutes death into life is offered freely, without need of capsule or syringe, by Christ the Way.
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Demands for public services are increasing, and taxing agencies are wondering where next to turn for the needed revenue. One obvious temptation for them is the many billions of dollars worth of church-owned property, virtually all of which is tax-exempt. From time to time the suggestion is made that the churches ought to begin kicking in a share.
The United States Supreme Court could have a lot to say about the matter. The court has been asked to hear cases that seek to end, as unconstitutional, state and local tax exemptions for houses of worship on the basis that such exemptions amount to public aid to religious institutions. One of the complaintants is Madalyn E. Murray O’Hair, who figured prominently in the court’s Bible-reading and prayer decisions. The court recessed for the summer without saying whether it would rule on the litigation.
In the ten-county Episcopal Diocese of New York, meanwhile, a group of young lawyers organized as the Guild of St. Ives are undertaking a study of church tax exemption. An aide to Bishop Horace W. B. Donegan has told the group that taxes would be a “considerable drain” on the diocese. He added, however, that “a lot of clergy feel the churches should pay taxes regardless.”
A few church groups here and there are beginning to volunteer contributions to their local governments as a return gesture for services received. In one case, a Unitarian church in Montclair, New Jersey, donated $1,000 to the town treasury. In another, the American Jewish Congress gave the city of New York $1,200 as a token tax on its Manhattan headquarters, the Stephen Wise Congress House.
In Toronto, city officials moved ahead with a plan to levy taxes against property sold by churches and universities. Controller Margaret Campbell has suggested a tax equal to what the property tax would have been in the five years preceding the sale, based on the price obtained for the property.
Mrs. Campbell said high sale prices for some church, university, and slum properties result from the subways and other services built around them with public funds. When such tax-exempt lots are sold at greatly enhanced prices, she said, the city should be able to claim five years of retroactive property taxes.
She cited the sale of People’s Church in Toronto, a large, independent congregation founded by the noted evangelical Canadian Oswald Smith. An old church was purchased for $75,000 in 1934 and sold five years ago for $650,000. Using the proceeds of the sale, the church moved to a Toronto suburb and built a huge plant.
The Rev. Paul Smith, minister of the church and son of the founder, said that singling out his congregation was discriminatory. Alluding to the fact that some churches and denominations get tax-exempt income on money that is not in the use of religious causes, he said:
“I would like to point out the fact of what the $75,000 initial investment would have compounded to be, had it been invested thirty years ago in some investment syndicate.”
In the United States, the courts will probably rule soon on such situations. Americans United has lent its support to a suit challenging the constitutionality of unrelated business income to churches. Such income is derived by some churches through a variety of methods besides financial investment. Most common are car washes, second-hand stores, and Christmas tree sales. Perhaps the most obnoxious church business enterprise is the effort of a Catholic group in Chicago to operate a garbage dump.
Personalia
Franklin Clark Fry was elected to a second and last four-year term as president of the Lutheran Church in America. Fry got 489 votes on the first ballot—27 more than the three-fourths necessary for election. Dr. Robert J. Marshall of Chicago was second with 70 votes. Dr. Malvin Lundeen of New York was third with 19. Fry, now 65, will be ineligible for another term because cause of his age.
Dublin-born Geoffrey Deane Johnston, 59, pastor of Central Presbyterian Church, Brantford, Ontario, was chosen moderator of the 92nd General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Canada.
A retired Army chaplain, John W. Sparks of San Antonio, Texas, was elected president of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church at its 136th General Assembly in Memphis.
The Rev. Raymond Beckering, pastor of the Second Reformed Church of Zee-land, Michigan, was elected president of the General Synod of the Reformed Church in America.
The Rev. Theophilus J. Herter was consecrated a bishop in the Reformed Episcopal Church. Herter teaches at the Reformed Episcopal Theological Seminary, Philadelphia, and has been rector of St. Matthew’s Reformed Episcopal Church, Havertown, Pennsylvania.
Dr. Samuel J. Mikolaski will rejoin the faculty of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary this fall as professor of theology, following a year of teaching at the Baptist seminary in Zürich, Switzerland.
Reportedly acting on the advice of his physician, Dr. Joost de Blank turned down an appointment as Anglican Bishop of Hong Kong. The 57-year-old churchman, known for his opposition to apartheid during six years as Archbishop of Capetown, South Africa, has more recently served as a residentiary canon of Westminster Abbey. There was some feeling expressed that the Hong Kong bishopric should go to a Chinese.
The Rev. Alan Jackson, whose advocacy of God-is-dead theology caused a furor among fellow Anglicans, resigned his chaplaincy at the University of British Columbia.
The new Reformed Theological Seminary at Jackson, Mississippi, appointed Dr. James C. De Young, a Christian Reformed minister, as professor of New Testament theology.
Miscellany
A freight train struck a church bus loaded with children in Dwight, Illinois, and dragged it 870 feet. Thirty of the bus riders were injured. They were on their way to a summer camp.
The San Francisco Presbytery withdrew a formal invitation to Saul Alinsky to organize the Bay Area poor. The door was left open for the controversial neighborhood organizer, however, in a loosely worded resolution that calls for such projects “upon invitation of the people indigenous to the poverty community areas.”
Evangelicals are losing the use of a prime outlet for gospel radio programs in Europe. Radio Luxembourg will no longer transmit English-language religious broadcasts as it has been doing since the end of World War II. No official reason was given for the change of policy.
A court in Seattle turned down the demand of two Bible Presbyterian ministers for discontinuance of a University of Washington course, “The Bible as Literature.” The ministers contend the course enables advocates of higher criticism to attack the Scriptures at public expense.
Former President Dwight Eisenhower presented his stamp collection, amassed during his eight years in the White House, to fellow philatelist Francis Cardinal Spellman. The collection will be turned over to the Cardinal Spellman Philatelic Museum at Regis College.
Suggestions for the convocation of a “Protestant Vatican Council,” offered by some non-Catholic churchmen in Germany, were rejected by Evangelical Bishop Hanns Lilje. In an address on the West German radio, Lilje said such proposals serve only to create the impression that a “vacuum” exists in Protestantism.
Deaths
WILLIAM ERNEST HOCKING, 92, religious philosopher and author regarded as the last of the influential idealists (see editorial, page 26); in Madison, New Hampshire.
MRS. CHARLES E. FULLER, 79, known to millions of “Old Fashioned Revival Hour” listeners for her weekly reading of letters, introduced by her preacher husband’s familiar “Go right ahead, honey”; in Pasadena, California.
David Mason
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Southern Baptists, more than other denominations, are caught on the horns of a higher-education dilemma. On the one hand are rising costs and the pressure of maintaining high standards in the face of rapid change. On the other is fear of government influence that would conflict with the strong Baptist emphasis on the separation of church and state.
In frank self-appraisal, 300 Southern Baptist leaders met in Nashville June 13–16 for the first Baptist Education Study Task (BEST). A broad spectrum of problems facing the fifty-four Southern Baptist colleges and universities were discussed by twenty-two study groups. While the participants have no power to bind either the SBC or any of the institutions represented, the findings of the study groups are an index to thought trends among Southern Baptist educational leaders.
Government aid, the most controversial subject discussed, has long been a point of contention. The full conference did not at any time vote on the question of government aid to Baptist schools. However, the two groups that discussed the matter of financing the institutions agreed that the federal-grant decision should be left to the trustees of the several schools. Most of the colleges and universities are controlled by separate boards and are owned by state Baptist conventions. The conventions set the basic policy, and school trustees abide by convention decisions.
One of the study sections adopted the following statement: “We suggest that the various state conventions of our denomination consider authorizing boards of trustees of the institutions to accept those government aids which in their judgment do not interfere with their program of Christian higher education.” This suggestion is particularly significant in view of the test case on government subsidies to church-related institutions currently being appealed to the Supreme Court of the United States (see June 24, 1966, issue, p. 40).
The same section suggested that the Baptist Joint Committee on Public Affairs in Washington, D. C., study the matter of church-state separation in regard to aid to education and report by January, 1967.
Although the suggestions of this group were not voted upon, they reflect a growing concern over inadequate financial support of those Christian institutions not accepting government aid. At the opening conference session, the educators heard Felix C. Robb, newly elected director of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, comment on the government aid quest: “You are going to miss providing a great educational service to the nation if you don’t ride with the tides on this issue.”
Reuben Alley, editor of the state Baptist paper of Virginia, vigorously opposed government aid, saying that it would be immoral to receive government money without accepting government control. Alley said that if Baptist schools were not distinctive from schools that get government funds, they didn’t deserve “one nickel of Baptist support.”
Many institution heads have for some time complained that if their schools are not to receive government grants, then the denomination should assume more financial responsibility.
Every one of the eight reports summarizing the study-group proposals cited the need for a clear statement of the philosophy of Baptist higher education.
Rabun Brantly, chairman of the conference and head of the Southern Baptists’ Education Commission, commented that all the reports agreed also on the need for “improved communications between the colleges and Baptist people.” These two needs, according to Brantly, outweighed consideration of the controversial question of government aid.
A total of 84 problems were enumerated by the study groups, and 120 solutions were suggested. Among the subjects considered were the following: denominational affiliation of faculty members, faculty recruitment, academic freedom, consolidation of schools, and public relations.
A second national study conference will be held in Nashville in June, 1967. A special eighteen-member findings committee is charged with summarizing the results of the study. This summary will be made available to college trustees, state conventions, and other interested groups.
Before the entire matter is settled, as many as 10,000 Southern Baptists may become involved. Discussions will be held in 200 selected churches, at least fifty pastors’ conferences, at many of the colleges and universities, and at twenty-four regional BEST seminars scheduled for the first quarter of 1967.
Perhaps the chief value of the conference was in stimulating thought on the future of higher education among Southern Baptists.
At the conclusion of this initial meeting of the study, Editor John J. Hurt of Georgia’s Christian Index summed up his reaction: “We came with the answers, and left with the questions.”
This Year’S Christmas Stamp
For the second consecutive year, the Post Office Department will issue a Christmas stamp depicting a religious subject.
This year’s stamp shows the central portion of Hans Memling’s oil painting, “Madonna and Child with Angels,” which is in the National Gallery of Art.
The vertical five-color stamp is from a picture painted on wood by the Flemish master about 1480. It shows the Madonna holding the infant Jesus.
In the past, controversy has arisen over whether the Post Office should issue stamps having religious themes. This intensified last year when the first stamp of that nature was issued. It showed the Angel Gabriel blowing his horn and was taken from a painting of a New England church weathervane.
Here is the National Gallery’s description of the portion of the painting to be reproduced: “The Virgin in a blue-green robe and red mantle seated on a red canopied throne. She holds in her lap the infant Christ who, with one hand touches the pages of the Missal.”
First day of distribution will be November 1 at Christmas, Michigan. The initial print order is for 1.2 billion stamps.
Dramatizing Injustice
When thousands rioted in Chicago’s Spanish-speaking community June 12 and 13, city officials were perplexed. It had been the Negro minority from which disturbances were expected.
One executive in the Chicago Conference on Religion and Race heard an official say: “We always thought the Puerto Rican and Mexican peoples were happy. If they get any happier they’ll tear the town apart.”
For weeks publicists had saturated the mass media with analyses of the strategy Negro leaders were planning for Chicago this summer. It was a surprise to find rioting where unemployment was low, where the level of education was higher than in the Negro ghetto, and where little effort had been made to organize a movement for civil disobedience.
Called to Chicago after last summer’s mass rally organized by leaders in the Church Federation of Greater Chicago, Martin Luther King arrived at the city’s west side early last January. Since then he has spent minimal time in the city, but a staff headed by brilliant Andrew Young and shrewd James Bivel have developed a semblance of organization while maintaining contact with the grass roots and the more violent element.
This summer’s demonstrations and marches, run by the Community Council of Commission Organizations—Southern Christian Leadership Conference (which is advised by Alvin Pitcher, professor of ethics at Chicago Divinity School), will begin with a mass rally in Soldiers’ Field, July 10.
Hans Mattick, professional criminologist and critic of the movement, explains away CCCO-SCLC as a nebulous structure that seems to vaporize when its member organizations are studied. He portrayed the racial problem as one of selective communication in which the top echelon of the power structure is not aware of the frustrations among the rank and file.
King is the symbol by which the movement is able to draw attention to Chicago. He intends to dramatize the injustice of this northern city by making the most of particular inequities.
One critic within the movement warned, “There will be violence; it cannot be avoided. King’s staff is organizing gangs for demonstrations, and its leaders know the consequences of such efforts.”
Critics outside the movement include leaders of the National Baptists U. S.A., Inc., and several other denominations, totaling more than six million Negroes. This bloc tends to support Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley, who is a target of frequent criticism from the King group.
No immediate direct connection was seen between the riots in the Spanish communities and the Negro freedom movement. The melee erupted when police attempted to break up a gang fight and a youth was wounded by gunfire. Some experts have charged irresponsible use of authority by leaders in city government and police brutality.
A handful of power centers have arisen, groping for an answer. Protestant ministers and Catholic priests, although not working actively together, have met to discuss problems. Spanish-speaking ministers have canvassed the community and have advised city leaders in an effort “to give Christian shape to thoughts and decisions made.”
José Torres, pastor of the First Congregational Church in the Spanish community, summarized the problem of both Negroes and Spanish when he said, “We are a very unhappy people. We need peace.”
WILL NORTON, JR.
Holding Off Famine
Christian groups around the world are credited with helping India avert a food crisis. A listing of church-related groups that have responded to pleas for relief was published in the May–June issue of the magazine of the Food and Agriculture Organization.
FAO Director-General B. R. Sen said, “This manifestation of good will on the part of people at all levels, young and old … is one of the most encouraging signs that we can see. It gives the hope that at last a world community is going to be built.”
Food aid is said to be holding off famine in India for the time being. Whether India will have enough to eat in coming months depends upon the extent of the summer harvest. If summer monsoons don’t produce enough rain, the world’s spare stocks of food may not be great enough to fill the gap. Nearly 500 million people, or about one-sixth of the world’s population, live in India.
Dr. Sen, after a survey trip to the populous Asian subcontinent, was asked about India’s hordes of cows, which consume scarce food but are never butchered for meat because Hindus regard them as sacred.
“It is true that religious tradition stands in the way of slaughtering cattle which have become useless,” he said. “This is something which is part of the traditional life of the country. Over the past decade continuous efforts have been made to educate public opinion.”
According to Dr. Sen, “the need for help from abroad is as urgent as ever, and the need increases daily. Nor is there any reason to think that the people and leaders of India are not deeply grateful for the spontaneous manifestation of good will and for the generous promise of help. The fact that actual famine has not occurred and so far starvation deaths are not evident should not be construed as suggesting that the Government raised a false alarm. On the contrary, there is a real shortage of food over a widely dispersed area, and the Government has acted with commendable foresight in taking preventive measures at an early stage.”
In addition to other church-related relief efforts (see April 1 issue, p. 52) there is now a joint effort in the Calcutta area by the National Association of Evangelicals and the Mennonite Central Committee. The NAE is accepting funds to purchase food for distribution through MCC representatives. The MCC also is engaged in a self-help program in the Calcutta area.
India’s last critical famine was in 1943, when an estimated total of more than three million persons died within six months, many of them in the streets of Calcutta.
Drought brought parts of India to the edge of famine in 1951–52, when Madras peasants barely survived on a cup of semi-liquid gruel a day and women of the Darbhange district of Northern Bihar reportedly fed children cakes of soft mud in a desperate attempt to keep them from starving.
India again had bad crops in 1962 and 1963, and in 1965 it suffered its worst drought in recent history. This led to the current emergency.
Coordinating Christian Compassion
Dozens of international service agencies motivated by Christian compassion have sprung up since World War II. Key people in these groups now say it would be to their mutual benefit to bring about a degree of coordination.
With such possible coordination in mind, representatives of eighteen of the organizations met for two days at Wing-spread Conference Center in Racine, Wisconsin, this past spring. The conference was sponsored by the Johnson Wax Foundation and Laubach Literacy, Inc. (one of the international agencies involved).
Separately, these agencies can perform an impressive range of services overseas, from advising a missionary how to make mud bricks that will not melt in the rain to conducting a nationwide cooperative community development program, including such services as literacy, agriculture, health, food, machinery, and literature. Their aggregate budget runs to about fifteen million dollars a year.
An executive committee, established to explore specific avenues of joint effort, met in Kansas City on June 6. Their findings and recommendations will be presented at a meeting of the full group in early October.
- More fromDavid Mason