Evangelicalism an International Enterprise

Cover photo by Jeff Folger

The development of Evangelicalism was a transatlantic enterprise. Many of those who became its early leaders and proponents crossed the ocean, some of them several times, cross-pollinating the emerging movement with ideas and practices from one shore to the other. What we now identify as Evangelicalism is that much richer for the experience.

In The Emergence of Evangelical Spirituality, a recent volume in Paulist Press’s Classics of Western Spirituality series, Tom Schwanda, a Reformed pastor and scholar out of Wheaton College in Illinois, presents an extensive and varied selection of writings by Evangelicals from both sides of the Atlantic.

While the selections range from sermons to hymns, from letters to treatises, they are helpfully grouped not according to genre but by theme. Here Schwanda has identified six major themes—New Life in Christ, Holy Spirit, Scripture, Spiritual Practices, Love for God, and Love for Neighbor—prominent in and dear to these early authors and has classified their writings accordingly, so that under any given theme a hymn by John Newton may rub shoulders with a sermon by Gilbert Tennent, an essay by Anne Dutton with a letter by John Fletcher, and so forth, and the reader is thereby given a sense of the variety of ways in which a particular theme was expressed by an author.

Authors as well as texts range from the very familiar (especially such hymns as “Rock of Ages” and “Amazing Grace”) to the familiar (selections by Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield) to the less familiar and even texts that are probably published here for the first time since they originally appeared in the eighteenth century. In his fine Foreword, prominent scholar on Evangelicalism Mark A. Noll observes that the volume points up “the substantial contribution of women to early evangelicalism,” and that socially the authors range from aristocrats to former slaves and racial minorities.

Schwanda has also provided a concise but extremely valuable introduction that (among other things) explains the importance of his choice of themes and defines the evolution of the terms evangelical (which, from the time of the Reformation, referred to all Protestants but eventually was refined to denote specifically the Evangelicals as we now identify them) and, in that context, spirituality. Brief introductions to each theme fill out that information. A section on “The Authors in This Volume” generously provides biographical information of each of the writers who speak to us across the centuries through this book.

The Emergence of Evangelical Spirituality is highly recommended for anyone interested in the history of Evangelicalism and the history of spirituality as an academic study as well as for anyone wishing to enrich their own life of prayer and meditation with selections from this great treasury of texts.

A related volume in this series is Mark Granquist's Scandinavian Pietists. Read my review here.

Provocative New Volume of Readings in Moral Theology

The Sensus Fidelium and Moral Theology, edited by Charles E. Curran and Lisa A. Fullam, Readings in Moral Theology 18 (New York and Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2017).

First, a disclosure: It has been a privilege and my pleasure to have worked editorially with Fr. Curran on his Moral Theology volumes since 2004.

In The Sensus Fidelium and Moral Theology Charles Curran and Lisa Fullam have given us the eighteenth volume in the invaluable series Readings in Moral Theology, which Fr. Curran inaugurated thirty-eight years ago with coeditor Richard McCormick.

John Henry Newman was the theologian best noted in the nineteenth century for his views on the sensus fidelium, which he explored in his seminal work on the topic, On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine. On being asked by his bishop, William Ullathorne of Birmingham, “Who are the laity?” Newman, by his own account, “answered … that the Church would look foolish without them.” The concept of sensus fidelium did not start with Newman, however; its roots go back to the biblical tradition, and the process is traced in the book’s first chapter, “Sensus Fidei in the Life of the Church,” prepared by the International Theological Commission and published by the Vatican in 2014.

The rest of Part One is taken up with historical and theological interpretations and features a multinational group of expert authors ranging from the USA (such as Paul Crowley, who expands on Newman) to Europe (including Myriam Wijlens of Germany on the ecclesiology of Vatican II) and beyond (including the Australian Ormond Rush’s finely nuanced account of “Sensus Fidei: Faith ‘Making Sense’ of Revelation”).

Part Two sets out “Moral and Practical Issues in Light of the Sensus Fidelium” and, in the wake of Pope Francis’s revival of the synod process and its consultation of the Catholic laity in preparation for the 2015 Synod on the Family, stamps this volume as especially timely. In presenting viewpoints on the sensus fidelium from a wide range of theologians and pastors, it makes an outstanding contribution by widening its application to ethical and not only doctrinal issues. Chapter 14, “Experience and Moral Theology: Reflections on Humanae Vitae Forty Years Later” by Todd A. Salzman and Michael G. Lawler, is only one of the gems to be found in this section of the book.

The Sensus Fidelium and Moral Theology is an invaluable resource not only for students and professors but also for all educated and involved laypersons who want to see how the concept of the sensus fidelium, championed by one of the greatest minds of the nineteenth century, is experiencing a deserved revival after years of being consigned to limbo by those who would prefer to equate authentic Catholic teaching with the hierarchical magisterium.

Walter Kasper, Accepting the Mystery: Scriptural Reflections for Advent and Christmas

“Against all wishes or temptations to restrict the horizon of human existence to what is feasible, manageable, consumable, the Christian celebration of Christmas gives language to the message of faith: human being, acknowledge the mystery that you are!”

This quotation from Cardinal Kasper’s Foreword (in which the last part of the sentence paraphrases a quote by Pope Leo the Great) to his new book Accepting the Mystery (Paulist Press, 2016) sums up the theme that runs like a red thread through this marvelous little book: Despite the relentless attempts of contemporary media to convince us otherwise, there is a transcendent dimension to human life. It’s not all about what you (or your favorite celebrities) wear or eat, where you live, and so forth. Nor is it about being in complete control of our lives. In his reference to the horizon of human existence, Cardinal Kasper is suggesting an important theme in the late Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner’s writings, which is that God is the horizon toward which all human existence tends. If we accept that, then (1) we relinquish the possibility of complete control; (2) what is “feasible, manageable, consumable” fades in importance.

The author has a magnificent gift for communicating profound thoughts in a way that a wide readership can understand (or I should say “audience”—these reflections come originally from homilies he has preached over the years). They aren’t “warm fuzzy” thoughts: In the first reflection he writes about that firebrand prophet John the Baptist, about judgment, and about repentance. And he applies the words of 20^th-century Protestant theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer about “cheap grace” to remind us that each of us is called to a repentance—a turning-around of our lives—that may not always be easy.

Cardinal Kasper is obviously a widely read, cultured man. Not only Bonhoeffer but also Greek mythology and other sources are drawn upon to expand upon or illustrate his thoughts.

On a practical level, this book is perfect for those who like to have a special book for spiritual nourishment during the Advent and Christmas seasons but who don’t want the commitment of “daily readings.” (Speaking for myself, I know that skipping a reading or two or three for whatever reason can make us feel guilty and then perhaps too discouraged to continue with the book at all.)  Here, in 64 pages, we have eleven reflections averaging about four pages each—easily manageable by a busy person who can’t commit to every day. Five for Advent, three for the immediate Christmas season, and three for Epiphany, the Baptism of the Lord, and beyond.

In addition, these reflections are so profound, so beautiful, so packed with meaning, I dare say that reading them need not be restricted to the Advent and Christmas seasons. So if you don’t already have this book, even though several days of Advent 2016 have already passed, go get yourself a copy. You won’t regret it.

An Introduction to the Gospel of Mark

A couple of years ago I had the pleasure of editing Scripture scholar Wilfrid Harrington, OP's delightful and accessible Reading Mark for the First Time.  Here I share with you a review of the book that has appeared in the current issue of Biblical Theology Bulletin (Vol. 46, 2016).

Wilfrid J. Harrington, a Dominican scholar, has written a brief and insightful introduction to the Gospel of Mark. He begins with what he calls a “modest” proposal: to outline Mark’s literary technique, and to discuss the “centrality of the cross to Mark’s account of Jesus” (p. 2). In the pages that follow, he does exactly this, and he does it very well, within the confines of his stated purpose. 

    Harrington divides his work into two primary sections. In Part One, he discusses the story of Mark’s Gospel in its broad themes and literary structure. He walks the reader through the background of the Gospel, before introducing what he calls Mark’s “literary pointers,” including the overall plan of the book, various emphases and concerns in the Gospel, and what he sees as the divine purpose that unfolds in Mark. To illustrate the kinds of observations Harrington offers his readers, a few examples will be helpful. On pp. 17–20, he discusses Mark’s use of minor characters as foils to the major players in the story, such as the disciples. The courageous women in 15:40–41 are a bold contrast to the fleeing disciples in 14:50, for instance. Harrington reminds us that “any enlightened reading of Mark’s Gospel must acknowledge the major contribution of its minor characters” (p. 20). He discusses Mark’s use of triplets (pp. 23–27), summary statements (pp. 30–31), inclusio (pp. 32–36) and bracketing (pp. 37–40) to help the reader to “better appreciate Mark’s artistry” (p. 24), that is, to see the overall structure of Mark’s telling of the Jesus story. He also points readers to the significance of Mark’s use of the region of Galilee (p. 36), of his references to Jesus being alone (pp. 41–44), and to the frequent theme of the disciples’ misunderstanding of Jesus (pp. 45–48). Harrington’s goal is that as the reader explores the Gospel, these “literary pointers” become clear, guiding the reader to understand Mark’s message. In this, his material is quite helpful. The second section of the book focuses on the message of Mark, which revolves around Jesus Christ. Harrington discusses Mark’s depiction of the Christ as prophet (pp. 69–85), as teacher (pp. 85–91), as messiah (pp. 94–95), as the Son of David (pp. 95–96), and as the Son of God (pp. 97–100). He then turns his attention to the theme of the suffering of Jesus in Mark. He presents Jesus as the suffering servant (pp. 105–08), discusses a brief theology of the cross (pp. 108–11), and Mark’s depiction of the passion narrative (pp. 119–22). He reminds his reader of Mark’s theme of the great reversal—that what seemed to be a failure (the death of Jesus) was God’s great victory in the resurrection. He concludes his second section with a discussion of discipleship, or as he calls it, “walking the way.” 

    For Harrington, Jesus’ relationship with his disciples provides a pattern and example for contemporary disciples in their walk with Jesus Christ. Harrington finds in Mark’s Gospel “the nature of Jesus’ call and the nature of Christian response—in short, (showing) what ‘following Jesus’ means” (p. 130). Harrington traces this through the call of the twelve as well as their frequent misunderstanding of Jesus (pp. 130–33). He discusses threats to discipleship in Mark’s Gospel, such as riches, false religion, and the traditions of men (pp. 143–49). 

    Harrington is a Dominican priest and scholar, but there is much to be found in his book to benefit those who do not share his tradition. In his section on Mark’s theology of the cross, for example, he does not seek to impose a specifically Catholic theology on the text, but retains his emphasis on Mark’s telling of the passion story. Readers from a wide range of theological persuasions, from evangelicals to liberals, Catholics to Protestants, will find much in his book with which to agree, and will find it a helpful guide to the story and text of Mark’s Gospel. If Harrington’s insights into the Gospel appear to arise more from a close observation of the biblical text than from an analysis of contemporary Markan studies, his bibliography bears this out. In the whole of his text, he cites only three authors besides himself: Moloney, Meier, and Schillebeckx. In this respect, his work is particularly refreshing. He does not write as a scholar observing other scholars, but as a preacher observing the Gospel of Mark. His analysis would be quite useful for a lay reader beginning to study Mark (as his title indicates) or for a teacher presenting the contents of the Gospel to a lay audience, but for a rigorous analysis of the Marcan text, the scholar should look elsewhere. As he tells us in his introduction, his goals are modest. His book fulfils his goals quite well, and is worthwhile reading for those who desire a broad, if not necessarily deep, introduction to Mark’s Gospel.

New Bio Dispels Myths about St. Dominic

St. Dominic, founder of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans), sometimes gets a bad rap as a severe, overly intellectual character, in contrast to his “more approachable” contemporary, Francis of Assisi. They’ve got it wrong about poor Dominic. Down to earth and a realist, Dominic was much loved (as well as respected) by the early followers who knew him personally. He read the signs of the times. Asked whether he wasn’t taking a great risk by sending those nice young men in their spiffy habits out into the highways and byways—wouldn’t some of them fall by the wayside?—he replied, “That’s the chance we have to take.” Among those who make up his legacy are a number of noted poets (Thomas Aquinas, who “did” some of his most memorable theology in liturgical verse), mystics (Catherine of Siena, a feisty lady who wasn’t afraid to tell Popes they were wrong), artists (Renaissance painter Fra Angelico), and writers on spirituality from medieval to modern times.

Any well-known saint becomes the subject of his or her share of pious hagiographies, and St. Dominic is no exception. Until now the last serious biography of Dominic, by the eminent English spiritual writer Bede Jarrett, OP, was published in 1924. Now, published by Paulist Press, comes St. Dominic: The Story of a Preaching Friar by veteran Dominican author and teacher Donald Goergen, OP. Neither a “pop” hagiography nor a heavily footnoted academic tome, Fr. Goergen’s book is the fruit of a long-standing, loving relationship between the modern-day friar and his medieval Master. This isn’t an author who knows about his subject, but an author who knows his subject. As its subtitle suggests, the book emphasizes the holy work of the Preaching, the spreading of the gospel wherever the Good News needed to be heard. Goergen includes the story of the fateful encounter with a Cathar innkeeper that ignited Dominic’s passion for preaching.

Preaching, for a Dominican, isn’t confined to sermons. Dominicans preach through whatever work each one is called to do: thus the examples of poets, mystics, artists, and spiritual writers mentioned above. This is the Order founded by Dominic—not an Order of dry intellectuals but one of men and women, down to earth like their Founder, who use their gifts and earthly things to fulfill their calling to spread God’s word. Such is Dominic’s legacy. Donald Goergen’s St. Dominic is a saint biography that everyone can enjoy.

Pope Francis: All You Want to Know

It was inevitable that books about Pope Francis, the most intriguing man to lead (or, as he himself would say, to serve) the Catholic Church in many a decade, if not century, would become something of a cottage industry. But if you're intent on reading a biography of the man, not a hagiography but an honest, no-holds-barred account of what makes Jorge Mario Bergoglio-turned-Pope-Francis tick, then Paul Vallely's Pope Francis: The Struggle for the Soul of Catholicism is, beyond a doubt, the one you want to have.

Paul Vallely is an award-winning British journalist internationally known as a commentator on religion, society, and ethics. In order to write this book he has left no stone unturned, conducted prodigious research and probing interviews with persons who have known Jorge Mario Bergoglio from as far back in his life as it was possible to go. The result is an in-depth, indeed one could say warts-and-all portrait of the complex Argentinian churchman who became the first pope from Latin America.

Many readers will be surprised to learn that this loving, smiling pope has a past as a conservative within the church and a divisive figure within his religious order, the Society of Jesus. Appointed as Provincial of the Argentine Jesuits at the young age of 36, a position in which he served between 1973 and 1979, he had to hit the ground running and learn on the job. Inevitably, he made mistakes for which he later came to feel remorse. This was the era in which Liberation Theology was on the rise and in which Vatican counter-attacks on it began, and Fr. Bergoglio was suspicious of it. Not that he was indifferent to the plight of the poor -- far from it; but his notion of how to help them took the traditional road of charity rather than the in-the-trenches approach of empowerment that he later came to espouse. At the time, two of his priests actually moved into the slums to work with the people, and Bergoglio pulled them out, insisted that they leave this "close-up" work.

But Vallely's account is balanced and nuanced, not a "bad Bergoglio -- good Pope Francis" book. He sets an event like this in its context and explains how the young Provincial, responsible for the lives and welfare of his priests, feared for the safety of his two confreres; it wasn't a matter of indifference to the situation of the slum dwellers, but an awareness of the grave danger in which workers for the poor and oppressed were putting themselves. Indeed, readers will be intrigued to learn how many of Pope Francis's concerns today have roots in his experiences in his post-conversion ministry among the poor.

And what was the conversion that Bergoglio experienced? Tension between conservatives and progressives among the Latin American Jesuits had reached the point where his superiors thought it best to send him away for a while.  In 1986 he visited Germany to do research for a doctorate; he began investigating the life and work of Msgr. Romano Guardini, a philosopher and religious writer who had considerable influence on him (he cities him several times in his encyclical Laudato Si). The project was eventually abandoned (a matter of personal regret to me, I must admit). In 1990 he was "exiled" for two years to the Jesuit community in Cordoba, and here Bergoglio's time away from clerical, pastoral, and administrative pressures gave him the mental and spiritual space to think and reflect on his life.  He became aware of, and contrite for, his perceived mistakes and returned a different man. Here can be seen the beginnings of the pope who espouses mercy above all and who calls himself a sinner. Pope Francis is probably the last person who would want to be called a saint, and yet Vallely's portrayal of him conjures up that definition of a saint as "a sinner who knows s/he has been forgiven."

Even Francis's less popular positions are explained rather than justified: his apparent slowness to act decisively on women's issues, for example, set in the context of his Latin American upbringing. (Yet, the irony cannot be missed that his position on where the Church should be going -- focus on Social Justice, not on what he himself has termed "below the belt" issues such as abortion -- is very close indeed to that espoused by the much-maligned LCWR.) But he is undeniably courageous, especially in his going head-to-head with the endemic corruption in the Vatican Bank and the Curia and his confronting of that perversion of religion otherwise known as the mafia. He may be exasperating to those who are more comfortable with being able to pigeonhole someone, but undeniably he has brought the first real breath of fresh air to the Church since Good Pope John XXIII "opened the windows" more than 50 years ago. While he has never explicitly criticized the two oppressive papal regimes that immediately preceded him, his actions speak for him: he aims to return the church to its founder's ideals of service -- "Those who wish to be great among you must be servants" -- and of concern for the poor.

Ancient Christian Writers Volume Brings Gallic Church History to Life

To my mind, Merovingian Gaul constitutes one of the most fascinating times and places in Western history (I won’t distinguish between church and secular history since the two were inextricably intertwined at the time).  Sinners and saints together strode across the stage of the Gallic theater that was left in the wake of the collapsing Roman Empire. The much-maligned (by today’s feminist ideologues) Pope Gregory the Great, convinced that the end-times were near, strove to maintain a voice of pastoral care and sanity while having to deal with such characters as the redoubtable Queen Brunechildis, who eventually met her grisly end by being (here I quote from Gregory of Tours’ History of the Franks) “tied to the feet of wild horses and torn apart limb from limb. Finally she died. Her final grave was the fire. Her bones were burnt.”  Power struggles were chronically the order of the day, as the Mayors of the Palace gradually wrested the real power from an increasingly effete line of kings.

If this sounds like something out of a Wagnerian opera, it actually is. Brunechildis, Sigebert, and others from that wild and wooly era found their way, filtered through the lenses of poetic oral tradition and legend, into Twilight of the Gods, the fourth opera in Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

If there were sinners, there were also saints. The most notable of these was St. Martin of Tours (d. 397), the former soldier who left the Roman army when he could no longer reconcile it with his Christian faith. His great desire was to gather like-minded people around him and form a hermitage, but that was not to be. By popular acclaim he was made Bishop of Tours. This was an honor he didn’t want. Legend has it that Martin, on hearing that people were coming to make him bishop, hid in a barn full of geese, but the geese cackled and gave him away. Whether or not this was true, the story is given as the reason the people of southern Sweden, specifically in the province of Skåne, celebrate Martinmas every November 11 with a dinner in which roast goose is the main feature – Martinsgås.

This was the era of fascination with miracles, and stories of Martin’s sanctity as demonstrated through the many miracles he worked abound. Many of these found their way into the Life of St. Martin by Martin’s contemporary biographer (hagiographer, one could say) Sulpicius Severus (ca. 355–420), whose writings are collected in this new volume in the Ancient Christian Writers series, Sulpicius Severus: The Complete Works.

Born into an upper-class family in Aquitaine, Sulpicius was educated in the literary arts and appears to have been an excellent student. He later married. His wife apparently died fairly young of unknown causes, but his mother-in-law provided for him an estate that enabled him to pursue his literary endeavors. After his wife’s death he decided to live an ascetic life. It was at this time that Sulpicius began to produce the works included in this book. In 396 he made his literary debut with the Life of Martin.

Sulpicius was a prolific letter-writer, but only three of his letters are extant, all of which appear in this volume.  He maintained a regular correspondence with his friend the bishop Paulinus of Nola, but only letters from Paulinus to Sulpicius survive.

Around 402 Sulpicius published his Chronicles, two books that relate the history of the world from Creation to his own time. The Chronicles differ markedly from the Life of Martin in that, whereas the Life assumes a hagiographical tone by recounting Martin’s many miracles, the Chronicles are straightforward historical narrative in which Sulpicius seems to have gone out of his way to avoid mentioning the biblical miracles.

In his final work, however, Sulpicius boldly resumed his defense of Martin. Probably published around 406, the Dialogues are the most sophisticated of his literary works. Sulpicius contrasts Martin, a truly apostolic shepherd of his flock, with the other clergy of Gaul, careerists bent on acquiring wealth and power. (Does this sound familiar?)

Sulpicius’ writings in this Ancient Christian Writers volume are masterfully introduced and translated by Richard J. Goodrich, lecturer in later Roman and early church history at Gonzaga University, who also gave us St. Jerome:Commentary on Ecclesiastes in the same series. In my experience editing this type of book, it’s a praiseworthy achievement when the translator/commentator produces a volume that breaks down the time barriers by offering not only a translation that reads smoothly and accessibly for a twenty-first-century audience but also an introduction that entices you to keep on going.