An item from church, followed by two book write-ups:
A. My church’s Advent Bible study is entitled “Jesus, the Seed of Jesse’s Tree.” It draws from Isaiah 11, which talks about a remaining stump of Jesse after the royal line had been devastated. The pastor said that the reference to the “son of Jesse” rather than the “son of David” serves to highlight that Jesus is one greater than David: both Jesus and David are from the lines of Jesse, yet Jesus is greater. Moreover, Jesus fills to overflow God’s promises to and intentions for David and the Davidic line. A topic that the pastor addressed were the apparent discrepancies between Matthew’s genealogy for Jesus (Matthew 1) and that of Luke (Luke 3:23-38). The pastor was open to the explanation that Matthew has Joseph’s genealogy whereas Luke has Mary’s, for Matthew’s story focuses on Joseph’s reactions, whereas Luke’s story features Mary’s. But the pastor also believes that the genealogies are making theological points. Matthew’s genealogy depicts Jesus as the son of Abraham and has three sets of fourteen generations, meaning it leaves some names out. Seven is the number of completion, so fourteen denotes double completion; the point Matthew makes for his Jewish audience is that Jesus is the complete fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham. Luke’s genealogy traces Jesus’s descent, not through David’s son Solomon, but rather through David’s son Nathan. Solomon, not Nathan, was the bearer of God’s promise to David, for Solomon was David’s successor as king. Why, then, does Luke mention Nathan? According to the pastor, this is consistent with Luke’s theme of God reaching out to the Gentiles. As Nathan, the unchosen son of David, is included in Jesus’s genealogy, so also is God including the Gentiles in his church, even though the Gentiles were not part of God’s chosen people Israel.
B. J.B. Stump and Chad Meister, ed. Original Sin and the Fall: Five Views. IVP Academic, 2020. Go here to purchase the book.
This book features five views on original sin and the Fall, followed by each contributor’s response to the other contributors. Hans Madueme represents the “Augustinian-Reformed” view: that Adam and Eve’s sin passed on guilt to their descendants as well as a corrupt nature. Oliver D. Crisp offers a “Moderate Reformed” view: that Adam and Eve passed to their descendants a corrupt nature but not guilt for Adam and Eve’s sin. Joel B. Green, the Wesleyan, seems to overlap with Crisp but also brings into the discussion God’s books of nature and Scripture, allowing him to reconcile Genesis 1-3 with evolution. Andrew Louth presents an “Eastern Orthodox” view, which entails a belief in ancestral sin—-that Adam and Eve set a bad example that contributed to a subsequent network of sin and corruption—-as well as a conviction that nature still has qualities and can serve as a means of grace. Tatha Wiley argues for a “Reconceived” view. This view does not accept Genesis 1-3 as literal history yet maintains that humans are alienated from how they should be. Jesus’s solution was to challenge societal privilege and to create an inclusive society.
Madueme’s contribution is perhaps the most biblical yet severely downplays scientific challenges to interpreting Genesis 1-3 as literal and historical. Madueme is particularly at his best when arguing against the other positions.
Oliver Crisp does well to argue that Calvin backtracks from supporting original guilt (Adam and Eve passing down guilt to their descendants), but Madueme, in my opinion, refutes Crisp’s argument that Reformed confessions reject original guilt. Crisp also fails to use possible biblical evidence for his position, such as Ezekiel 18’s claim that God punishes people for their own sin, not the sin of their parents.
Green objects to the idea that Genesis 1-3 is about original sin at all; rather, in accord with much of biblical scholarship, he treats Genesis 2-3 as an etiology of death, hard labor, and difficult pregnancies. This interpretation presumes that Adam and Eve’s descendants have free choice to do good or evil and that they are responsible for their own sins, not those of Adam and Eve. But do the Wesleyans believe this? While Wesley rejected original guilt, he believed that humans inherited a corrupt nature from Adam and Eve, which is why they need divine grace.
The contributions from Louth and Wiley are the most difficult in the book yet are clearest in explaining how exactly various Christian luminaries thought that original sin degenerated human nature and was passed on to Adam and Eve’s offspring. Louth’s conception of ancestral sin sounds rather Pelagian, as another contributor points out. I had assumed that the Eastern Orthodox, too, believed that Adam and Eve’s transgression weakened how humans are by nature, not merely that it set a bad example. Regarding Louth’s view that the Eastern Orthodox accept the goodness of creation, Louth does well to highlight possible Christian voices to the contrary, but, as Madueme retorts, one can be authentically Reformed and still believe that creation has goodness.
Wiley’s contribution is perhaps the most liberal of the five. Louth astutely noted in his retort that even theological liberals these days see some value in the doctrine of original sin, in contrast with the theological liberals who taught him in his schooldays! There is something wrong with human nature, even if one has intellectual difficulty accepting the historicity of Adam and Eve.
The book is rather lacking in engaging the question of whether one can believe in original sin while rejecting the historicity of Adam and Eve. Crisp says that his position does not presume that all humans descended from Adam and Eve but fails to explain how this is the case. Perhaps the closest that I saw to this was in a footnote in Madueme’s contribution about a book that proposed a view that Madueme rejects. Madueme argues that God’s renewal of the cosmos implies that the cosmos before the Fall lacked sin and death, which contradicts evolutionary scenarios in which there has long been struggle and death, even before humans came on the scene. The footnote refers to the view that God’s cosmic renewal need not imply a perfect pre-Fall cosmos, for God’s renewal could be a new thing altogether.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher. My review is honest.
C. Brad D. Strawn and Warren S. Brown. Enhancing Christian Life: How Extended Cognition Augments Religious Community. IVP Academic, 2020. Go here to purchase the book.
Strawn and Brown teach psychology at Fuller.
I hated reading this book. It is a sophisticated rendition of all the communitarian Christian cliches from which I, as a socially-impaired introvert with Asperger’s, recoil. “There is no such thing as a ‘lone-ranger’ Christian.” (Okay, so does one need to be adequately social to be saved? Is salvation by God’s free grace or not?) “You should do life together throughout the week, not just meet together on Sunday.” (Some churches try to legislate this!) “Church is not just about reassuring you of God’s love but commissioning you to minister to others throughout the week.” (There used to be some weeks when I didn’t interact with anyone. Was I unsaved in those days?) These are not exact quotations, but the book is certainly in that spirit. Also, there was that goofy story about how heaven is a place where we all feed each other with long spoons! I am willing to share, but I would rather feed myself with my own spoon!
Another point that Strawn and Brown make is that religious disciplines are not just supposed to be private but are to be primarily based on corporate worship and are to serve the local church. What does that mean, exactly? That, when I study the Bible, it has to correspond with what the church is emphasizing at that point? That I need to share my conclusions in reading the Scripture to others at church? What if they do not value what I have to say?
I guess that my religion and spirituality are what Strawn and Brown criticize. I read the Bible and meditate on it to be personally edified, even pacified, and I hope that will make me less of a jerk to others. Less of a jerk, not necessarily “buddy-buddy.” Does community factor into my spirituality at all? Well, I doubt it would be enough to satisfy Strawn, Brown, and other communitarians—-that is just how it is—-but it is still there. Going to church can remind me that there is a world beyond myself. There is a strength that comes from being around other believers. As Strawn and Brown extensively argues, none of our contemplation occurs in solitude, for it engages the world around us. And Strawn and Brown do well to tell beautiful stories about when the church comes together and helps someone, as the church people have each other’s back.
The book would have been better had it discussed those with social impairments. That is not just for my benefit, for it is a widespread issue that people face. Strawn and Brown do, however, address other questions that people might have about their view: what room does it leave for God’s grace, and does it present a rosy picture of church? Their discussion of the latter question could have had more: can Christians, especially socially-challenged Christians, form community in an individualistic society where it is difficult to form community?
I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher. My review is honest.