What Christian Am I?
I found this quiz at Sandalstraps' Sanctuary.
I am surprised I came out postmodern emergent. This surprises me since I know almost nothing about emergent. I think I'm a liberal Episcopalian, deeply concerned with historical Jesus research, symbol, and loving social action. One thing I know; what the emergent church seems to mean by postmodern (and I know very little about the emergent church) has almost nothing to do with what literature teachers mean by postmodern. The other thing I'll admit is that the descriptive paragraph describes me pretty well.
The neo-orthodox thing does catch my eye.
Just what do I believe at the moment? (Perhaps this will cinch the pomo label on me unawares).
For one, I believe there are many things we do not and will not know on this earth. Not primarily because we live in a postmodern, language infused world where all knowledge is highly personalized. On the contrary, our true limitation comes from the fact that we live in one tiny corner of a vast material universe and have no direct access to our Creator, let alone His World. We don't know many things because God has not told us many things. Why? I don't know. But judicious use of those last three words, "I don't know," and "I don't know yet," is critical to any reflective process on the cosmos and God.
On the modern/postmodern paradigm, I'd note, for the record, the fact that the human mind unknowingly distorts truth is hardly a 20th century idea. Francis Bacon, the inductive empiricist, in his Novum Organon of 1620, makes a powerful case with his famous "Four Idols" that human inquiry is far from error-free. It's a pre-linguistic document, yes, but even language gets its Idol for Bacon. I think it was C.S. Lewis who said that every idea has been held by some person in every age. The more I read, the more I agree.
Pieces of evangelical Christian culture may well be shifting away from simple answers, rigid systematic theology, and quick appeals to authority (including the proof-text). But this is not a new phenomenon in Christianity at large. What is most interesting is how the emergent church is doing this and growing when the mainline denominations, which have been following this path for some time, continue to shrink in many locations.
So, if I'm not sure I'm postmodern, what do I believe?
The Bible is a collection of books which reflects a mysterious combination of the human and the divine. There are many ways this is described, but my faith is based on the canonical gospels, and, it's fair to say, on the spiritual experience of Paul and the other apostles. This is quite apart from whether Adam and Eve were real people, or there was a universal flood, or whether God told the Israelites to butcher cities, or whether there was one feeding of the multitude or two. We may not have a book from the sky, but this does not discount the fact that what we do have is remarkable, and necessary, religious literature. Without the bible, what would we know of God? Perhaps God has told us just what we need to know. But rather than trying to measure all truth on this planet "according to God's Word," our search for truth and meaning must use intuition, rigorous reason, the moral sense, and a critical reading of the scriptural books; all this must be cocooned in a committment to love.
Though the bible books may not be perfect, Christianity is not Christianity unless it is a historic religion; I believe Jesus is unique in recorded history and what he did and said matters. He is who he said he was and he rose from the dead. The gospels may not be innerrant, but that does not mean they are wholesale creative fictions.
Is the trinity real? Quite possibly. I think the earliest Christians had to deal with Jesus' remarkable nature and the Spirit he spoke of in light of their monotheism and this led, perhaps more quickly than is sometimes assumed, to the concept of the trinity. Is this the final word on the godhead? Is it even comprehendable to the human mind? We will never know in this life. It surely is a beautiful, corporate depiction of the deity, one which models service and elevation, power and gentle urging, father and son and awe-full mystery.
What else? Does baptism cause sin to be forgiven? I have no idea. I think response to Christ involves action based on faith in some form, and that Jesus will turn away no one who seeks him. Any shred of an attempt, I must believe, is enough (hopefully even if one never hears of Christ). Do the elements in the Eucharist change at all? I actually tend to think no, but again, a spiritual change in matter (if this can happen) cannot be measured. Does the communion touch me spiritually, heal and build me? Yes. And I had a mystic experience at my first Episcopal communion, or one of them, when I wasn't even attending church. I will never neglect the Eucharist or deride it in any way. This does not mean the elements assume deity themselves or should be venerated. Frankly, I don't care what happens to the elements or when; if anything does happen, it surely happens at every Christian church on the planet, even the most dry-lipped chalk-proper denominations. Do I think a priest is necessary to celebrate the communion as my church teaches? Nope. Where two or three are gathered.
Since the core of my faith is the gospel material, I have many questions about it. In my world, this is the place to work. Did Jesus teach judgement? I have to believe so. Was it temporal, eternal? This is a very big question for me. Was the destruction of the Temple in 70 God's directed act? I can't say. Am I going to heaven when I die? I don't know that either. Is there a resurrection of the dead? Dear God I hope so. The NT teaches it explicitly in multiple tradition and so much Christian hope is pinned on it.
Dialogue does matter more than confrontation. What is postmodern about that?
Perhaps I simply don't understand the emergent church. I'm not sure any of the ideas there are new, though I do think it is providing a necessary challenge to American fundamentalism. That challenge was bound to happen and will continue.
My true concern right now is how to energize my own little parish and Episcopalianism as a whole. I think it is a beautiful and glorious community, democratic, liturgical, rational and love-focused. Of course, that's only my experience. Why the ECUSA, along with the other mainlines, has been shrinking for several decades while the evangelical churches boom is something I'd like to understand. Is this shift a good thing, or is the church growth movement creating larger numbers of church members with shallower Christian experience? Have head-counts and entertaining services substituted in some cases for enhancing personal spiritual committment? To put things darkly, do people simply want to be told what to think (as the ECUSA may have done before pieces of it became 'liberal' thirty or forty years ago)? Perhaps the old style of worship has simply burned out. Are we all tired of centuries old hymns and traditions? There is so much wonder in the old practices, the ecclesiastical calender especially. I hope this at least is never lost even if we all move to overheads and microphone bands.
I know very little about all this, though it looks like I'm going to have to learn as my role changes at the parish. Since I think human nature is fundamentally the same over millenia, my guess is the churches have always been filled with the same kinds of people as now; some want a stronger connection to God, some just show up. The fact is many more (of all kinds) are showing up in the new evangelical churches than they are in the ECUSA. Why? And how much should the mainlines adapt? All good questions.
Well, enough of this. Take the quiz if you'd like and have fun with it. Sandalstraps was surprised by his category; myself as well.
You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.
What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com |
I am surprised I came out postmodern emergent. This surprises me since I know almost nothing about emergent. I think I'm a liberal Episcopalian, deeply concerned with historical Jesus research, symbol, and loving social action. One thing I know; what the emergent church seems to mean by postmodern (and I know very little about the emergent church) has almost nothing to do with what literature teachers mean by postmodern. The other thing I'll admit is that the descriptive paragraph describes me pretty well.
The neo-orthodox thing does catch my eye.
Just what do I believe at the moment? (Perhaps this will cinch the pomo label on me unawares).
For one, I believe there are many things we do not and will not know on this earth. Not primarily because we live in a postmodern, language infused world where all knowledge is highly personalized. On the contrary, our true limitation comes from the fact that we live in one tiny corner of a vast material universe and have no direct access to our Creator, let alone His World. We don't know many things because God has not told us many things. Why? I don't know. But judicious use of those last three words, "I don't know," and "I don't know yet," is critical to any reflective process on the cosmos and God.
On the modern/postmodern paradigm, I'd note, for the record, the fact that the human mind unknowingly distorts truth is hardly a 20th century idea. Francis Bacon, the inductive empiricist, in his Novum Organon of 1620, makes a powerful case with his famous "Four Idols" that human inquiry is far from error-free. It's a pre-linguistic document, yes, but even language gets its Idol for Bacon. I think it was C.S. Lewis who said that every idea has been held by some person in every age. The more I read, the more I agree.
Pieces of evangelical Christian culture may well be shifting away from simple answers, rigid systematic theology, and quick appeals to authority (including the proof-text). But this is not a new phenomenon in Christianity at large. What is most interesting is how the emergent church is doing this and growing when the mainline denominations, which have been following this path for some time, continue to shrink in many locations.
So, if I'm not sure I'm postmodern, what do I believe?
The Bible is a collection of books which reflects a mysterious combination of the human and the divine. There are many ways this is described, but my faith is based on the canonical gospels, and, it's fair to say, on the spiritual experience of Paul and the other apostles. This is quite apart from whether Adam and Eve were real people, or there was a universal flood, or whether God told the Israelites to butcher cities, or whether there was one feeding of the multitude or two. We may not have a book from the sky, but this does not discount the fact that what we do have is remarkable, and necessary, religious literature. Without the bible, what would we know of God? Perhaps God has told us just what we need to know. But rather than trying to measure all truth on this planet "according to God's Word," our search for truth and meaning must use intuition, rigorous reason, the moral sense, and a critical reading of the scriptural books; all this must be cocooned in a committment to love.
Though the bible books may not be perfect, Christianity is not Christianity unless it is a historic religion; I believe Jesus is unique in recorded history and what he did and said matters. He is who he said he was and he rose from the dead. The gospels may not be innerrant, but that does not mean they are wholesale creative fictions.
Is the trinity real? Quite possibly. I think the earliest Christians had to deal with Jesus' remarkable nature and the Spirit he spoke of in light of their monotheism and this led, perhaps more quickly than is sometimes assumed, to the concept of the trinity. Is this the final word on the godhead? Is it even comprehendable to the human mind? We will never know in this life. It surely is a beautiful, corporate depiction of the deity, one which models service and elevation, power and gentle urging, father and son and awe-full mystery.
What else? Does baptism cause sin to be forgiven? I have no idea. I think response to Christ involves action based on faith in some form, and that Jesus will turn away no one who seeks him. Any shred of an attempt, I must believe, is enough (hopefully even if one never hears of Christ). Do the elements in the Eucharist change at all? I actually tend to think no, but again, a spiritual change in matter (if this can happen) cannot be measured. Does the communion touch me spiritually, heal and build me? Yes. And I had a mystic experience at my first Episcopal communion, or one of them, when I wasn't even attending church. I will never neglect the Eucharist or deride it in any way. This does not mean the elements assume deity themselves or should be venerated. Frankly, I don't care what happens to the elements or when; if anything does happen, it surely happens at every Christian church on the planet, even the most dry-lipped chalk-proper denominations. Do I think a priest is necessary to celebrate the communion as my church teaches? Nope. Where two or three are gathered.
Since the core of my faith is the gospel material, I have many questions about it. In my world, this is the place to work. Did Jesus teach judgement? I have to believe so. Was it temporal, eternal? This is a very big question for me. Was the destruction of the Temple in 70 God's directed act? I can't say. Am I going to heaven when I die? I don't know that either. Is there a resurrection of the dead? Dear God I hope so. The NT teaches it explicitly in multiple tradition and so much Christian hope is pinned on it.
Dialogue does matter more than confrontation. What is postmodern about that?
Perhaps I simply don't understand the emergent church. I'm not sure any of the ideas there are new, though I do think it is providing a necessary challenge to American fundamentalism. That challenge was bound to happen and will continue.
My true concern right now is how to energize my own little parish and Episcopalianism as a whole. I think it is a beautiful and glorious community, democratic, liturgical, rational and love-focused. Of course, that's only my experience. Why the ECUSA, along with the other mainlines, has been shrinking for several decades while the evangelical churches boom is something I'd like to understand. Is this shift a good thing, or is the church growth movement creating larger numbers of church members with shallower Christian experience? Have head-counts and entertaining services substituted in some cases for enhancing personal spiritual committment? To put things darkly, do people simply want to be told what to think (as the ECUSA may have done before pieces of it became 'liberal' thirty or forty years ago)? Perhaps the old style of worship has simply burned out. Are we all tired of centuries old hymns and traditions? There is so much wonder in the old practices, the ecclesiastical calender especially. I hope this at least is never lost even if we all move to overheads and microphone bands.
I know very little about all this, though it looks like I'm going to have to learn as my role changes at the parish. Since I think human nature is fundamentally the same over millenia, my guess is the churches have always been filled with the same kinds of people as now; some want a stronger connection to God, some just show up. The fact is many more (of all kinds) are showing up in the new evangelical churches than they are in the ECUSA. Why? And how much should the mainlines adapt? All good questions.
Well, enough of this. Take the quiz if you'd like and have fun with it. Sandalstraps was surprised by his category; myself as well.
Comments
Here is a comment I left on his post to try to clear up some of the confusion:
"Emergent church" can be a nebulous term, even a vacuous one. It - like "postmodern" - can mean almost whatever the speaker/writer wants it to mean. This is because, as currently constituted, it is more of a negation/rejection of earlier forms of our faith than a real affirmation of some new way to be the body of Christ.
Among evangelicals the best use of the term comes from Brian McLaren, the founding pastor of Cedar Ridge Community Church and the author of several influential books, including The Church on the Other Side: Doing Ministry in the Postmodern Matrix and the dialog A New Kind of Christian.
Unlike other evangelical leaders, McLaren believes that not just the style but also the substance of the Gospel must be changed to fit into a new cultural context. As such, he doesn't just propose cosmetic or structural changes - like incorporating modern music or team ministry - but much more radical ones.
He doesn't fit neatly into any of H. Richard Niebuhr's categories from Christ and Culture [note: this reflects one of Tyler's specific concerns], but might be best seen as a hybrid of The Christ of Culture and Christ Above Culture. He certainly thinks that even if faith is not exactly derived from culture, it must accomodate the culture, especially as the culture shifts. He sees a radical paradigm shift in the way in which people think - not just the content of their thoughts, but even the thought processes themselves - and as such thinks that Christianity needs to account for that shift or it will be unable to meet the spiritual needs of a changing culture.
The emergent church, then, is the church which emerges from this paradigm shift, able to meet the needs of postmodern Christians.
Among theologians the best proponent of the emergent paradigm is Marcus Borg, whose The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith is a must read for almost anyone who takes their faith seriously.
Borg is also difficult to pin down. As you probably know, he is a member of the Jesus Seminar, and a professor at Oregon State University, who has done some very interesting work on the historical Jesus. But, one thing which separates Borg from much of the rest of the Jesus Seminar is that, while he makes a sharp distinction between what they often call the Jesus of history and the Jesus of faith, he rejects the terms they use, and also rejects the implicit assumption that the second Jesus - more a reflection of early Christian beliefs about Jesus than a reflection of the historical Jesus - is worthless, devoid of value.
In fact, though he professionally studies the historical Jesus it is the second Jesus, who he calls the post-Easter Jesus (distinguished not from the "Jesus of history," but instead from the "pre-Easter Jesus") who he finds most interesting. Similarly, while Borg argues that the Gospel of John is almost entirely without historical merit, he finds it both the most interesting gospel and the gospel must useful as a spiritual tool.
In other words, Borg has the intellectual assumptions of both modern liberalism and the secual religious scholars, but he rejects the way that those assumptions are valued. He sees a great depth of meaning in myth, and as such rejects the traditional dichotomy between literal-history as true and mythology as false.
From this he seeks not to de-mythologize religion, but to re-mythologize religion, which may be the most simple way to explain what he means by the emergent paradigm.
What McLaren and Borg both have in common is a kind of cultural relativism. That seems to me to be the glue which holds together the disparate visions lumped together under the "emergent" or "post-modern" heading. That, and a rejection of a kind of binary way of looking at truth ("true" and "false" as the only options).
Hope that helps somewhat.
One thing that I would add here that I didn't put into the comment at Habakkuk's Watchpost is that McLaren and Borg also have in common, along with all other card carrying members of the Emergent/Post Modern movement the beliefs that all descriptions of God are best understood metaphorically rather than literally. This shapes their approach to theology, which is often very un-systematic. They both, in fact, share a deep suspicion of systematic theology, which attempts to narrowly define God, because they don't believe that any human description of God is likely to be in almost any respect correct. This comes from their shared notion that God is principally mysterious.
In my reading of late I've noticed some similarities here with the Jewish mystic/theologian/philosopher/rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. I've been working on Heschel for about a month now, and am intrigued with how he in the first half and middle of last century anticipated many of the "new" concerns of this century, at least in contemporary religion. Of course, you wouldn't be surprised at this, as I'm sure you can find some thinkers considerably older than Heschel who share the concerns of the Emergent/Post Modern paradigm.