Who has the right?
Written by Mark Van Steenwyk : November 18, 2004
There is an article on Christianity Today that tells about a group from India, who upon reading a recently-translated-into-their-own-language Bible, discovered that they must be of the lost tribe of Manasseh. Apparently, they felt similarities between their ancient customs and the customs of the ancient Israelites. Ergo, they must be from the lost tribe. As a result, this group of newfound Jews has been practicing Judaism for about 30 years. A delegation of Rabbis is investigating their claims to determine if they have the "right of return" which would enable them to move to Israel as Jews.
While I suppose that it is possible that they are truly from the Tribe of Manasseh, it certainly isn’t very probable. Their story brings to my mind the number of Christians I know (myself included, by the way) who "discover" that their beliefs are akin to some older or different theological tradition. For example, many evangelicals find themselves appreciating sacramental theology, and claim Orthodoxy or Catholocism or Anglicanism as their own, without actually becoming a part of those traditions. They feel they can claim a Tradition from outside of that Tradition.
I’m sort of the same way. In my teens, I became a Christian in a
charismatic church. For most of the time since then, I’ve been
involved in non-denominational churhces. However, I feel a strong
affinity to the anabaptists. Sometimes, I’ll refer to myself as a
neo-anabaptist. Is this valid? It seems awefully consumeristic of me
to pick and choose from church history for those elements which I
like. I try to justify my "selection" by having theological reasons
for those selections. Many are less justified–people that start using
icons because they are stylistically and theologically sexy. It all
seems a bit inauthentic. One of the defining things about many
emergent churches is their willingness to be theologically eclectic by
design. They arrange theological furniture throughout their
ecclesiological living room as they see fit. The only unifying motif
seems to be their intuition. Now, I realize that I am grossly
generalizing here. There have been some exciting theological programs
brought forth that suggest a new way of doing and being church which
give new freedom to look throughout church history for inspiration.
Nevertheless, while some church make informed choices about the way
they do church and do theology, based upon thoughtful theological
reflection, other churches seem to do things without much reflection at
all. They look at all the new stuff happening and treat it like a new
set of techniques for reaching the young-people. Young folk like
images and stuff, so let’s use icons in our worship! Postmoderns like
narrative and stories, so let’s endorse narrative theology!
Postmoderns want to help people in the third world, so let’s drool over
liberationist theologies!
All of those things are great resources for the task of doing
theology and doing church, but I get a bit irked when people treat the
variety of Christian traditions as different items within the salad-bar
of life. What gives anyone the right to treat the different traditions
as though they are ours to mess with as we please? Just because we
like what we read, we don’t have the right to claim any tradition as
our own, merely so that we can pillage it for fodder and mix it up with
whatever trends de jour we enjoy.
On the other hand, we need to engage in the wealth of the various
theological traditions. But how do we do so in a constructive manner?
How do we do so in a decidedly non-consumeristic way?
for further reading . . .
- None Found
Hmmm? From reading this post and scanning this side bar of suggested reading, I’m wondering how your own personal faith and your own church are different? Is ecclecticism OK as long as we’re “thoughtful” about it? (I’m not asking these questions sarcastically–I realize you began by sort of enditing yourself.)
I grew up Roman Catholic, became a believing Christian outside of any church fellowship under the influence of liberal Presbyterian and some fundamentalist, eventually joined the Reformed church but now read widely from various traditions (all the sorts of folks you’re reading). This kind ecclecticism is a mere fact of the postmodern world–people don’t have to try to have salad bar theologies, their experience dictates it. Right?
You are right to point out how our experience is determining the way in which we “sample” from various theological traditions. This phenomenon isn’t entirely destructive. I “sample” from a number of traditions (I’m using the word “sample” in a similar way to the way hip hop artists use it. They take melodies or clips from exisiting songs and incorporate it into a new work. We are all supposed to take the best of those that have gone before us and incorporate it into something new). My concern isn’t with sampling, but with the way in which we engage in sampling. We often draw from theological traditions without giving much thought to those traditions (for example, emergent churches using icons in worship without understanding much about the history and thinking behind iconography). We also slap together various pieces from a variety of Christian traditions without much reflection (like the use of a lot of Catholic spirituality mixed with reformed soteriology…these two things aren’t mutually exclusive, but they aren’t likely bedfellows).
How ought we to engage in theological “sampling?” How do we challenge the misuse of theological sampling and encourage proper uses?
Ah, so glad you brought up hip-hop, now you’re speaking my language. I think we agree here much more than we disagree. My favorite hip-hop group is an underground duo from Atlanta called Mars Ill. (As you might guess from their name, they are Christians.) I think they provide a great model for how to sample well, as well as how to critique poor sampling. They sample from old school and underground hip-hop acts that they know well, appreciate, and grew up listening to. To quote them: “You have to know the past to realize what vision is.” Thoughtful sampling must happen out of a rich knowledge of the context/tradition from which one is borrowing. We shouldn’t pretend to be “down” with something when we really only ran out and got the record after we saw Carson Daly wearing the T-shirt. Secondly, Mars Ill never sample for the sake of sampling or sample from songs because the sample itself with be readily recognizable and, thus, attract listeners. They make a subtle jab at Puff Daddy calling him “the 1980’s pop single looper.” Likewise, we shouldn’t jump on bandwagons or begin with the sample and work backwards to create the theological justification for it.
That said, I think that ecclecticism is a good thing. It’s exciting to me that people are thinking across denominational divides. I would rather be thinking theologically now, when the resources of so many Christian traditions are available to me, that at any other period in the church’s history.
I agree, Jeremy. Towards the end of your comments, you bring up the key word: “theologically.” Doing theology is a discipline. It takes a great deal of study and reflection and dialogue. Pursuing ecclecticism theologically is needed.