Youth Culture 101

Mar7

I’m off to Yakima, Washington today for the Northwest Ministry Network’s annual Youth Summit. Youth ministers and leaders from around Washington and Northern Idaho are gathering for fellowship and enrichment as they continue to the important work of ministry with adolescents.

I’ll be leading a small “break-out” session during the meetings. My topic: youth culture.

Much of what I’ll be saying derives from a new class I’m working through this semester entitled “Studies in Youth Culture.” You’ll likely be hearing more about it in coming weeks. For now, though, just a brief list of some of the principles for studying youth culture that I’ll recommend:

I. Observe carefully.

II. Be humble and realistic.

III. Withhold judgment.

IV. Beware of the “tyranny of the visible.”

V. Consider all factors, ecologies, and vantage points.

VI. Beware the “back in my day” approach.

VII. Ask: What does this tell you about the student(s) and their context?

VIII. Ask: What does this tell you about humanity?

IX. Ask: How does God/Scripture see this?

X. Reflect on how culture(s) affect those involved.

XI. Think/pray/meditate/consider first, act later.

That’s all for today, and for this week. Let me know what you think. Spring Break begins this weekend, so I’ll be taking a hiatus until Monday 18 March.

I Plead the Fifth

Mar5

For today’s installment of my occasional series on the amendments to the Unites States Constitution I’ll be looking at number 5:

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

As opposed to the ones we have looked at so far, there seems to be a lot more going on here. This said, the main focus on the Fifth Amendment seems to be on the rights and privileges of the criminally accused within the American legal system.

The amendment limits the role of the government in running roughshod over those charged with crimes, and in so doing echoes the restraints (explicit or implicit) placed upon organized national power by the previous four. For me, this is the interesting thing about looking at these basic freedoms. All of my life I’ve never really thought of “the government” as the enemy, or something from which I need to be protected. I grew up simply assuming that the government’s job was to protect me. I still think that’s partly true, but perhaps only because the government (in the form of the Bill of Rights) took steps to protect its citizens against the possible excesses of its own being.

Early citizens of the United States knew the grievances they had against the British authority. While they wanted a government of their own, they were afraid of national power that went too far. Hence these amendments.

When we today hear people tell us that “the government is the enemy” or “the less government the better,” we sometimes think they might be a little overdramatic. Perhaps they are…but when looking at the first five amendments to the Constitution, it appears they are in good company. Interesting, that.

Churchless Church

Mar4

A few weeks ago I was in Southern California for a “church tour.” Together with a few professors and about 20 ministry students, I visited nine church services in a weekend. It was a bit of a marathon, but I survived.

The goal for the students was to gain an appreciation for the way “church” was done in a few different contexts, make observations that might serve to benefit their future ministries, and analyze a variety of sermons.

My experience of the weekend was similarly organized, but at some point it also turned a bit pessimistic. Observing so many church services in one weekend, while supposedly meant to be an “uplifting” experience, actually caused me to wonder why in the world we do all of the things in we feel that we have to do. If Christianity is a matter of the spirit, both individually and as gathered with others in communion with Christ, then why does so much of “church” feel so…artificial? Strange songs, standing and sitting, listening to someone talk for an hour, varying dress codes, Christian clichés. Even that portion where we’re all forced to shake each others’ hands. Really? What is it all about? It is an interesting question.

Some of our discomfort with the “strangeness” with church life might simply have to do with the “strangeness” or other-ness of God. This I accept wholeheartedly. God’s ways are not our ways, and as a good Pentecostal I recognize that the presence of the Almighty can manifest itself in diverse and unexpected ways.

Some of the reason that church services seem artificial might simply be because our world can tend to be rather secularized, or antagonistic to such organized religious faith. Because we live in a world that doesn’t like to talk about or reflect upon religious faith, places where we do so naturally feel weird.

All the same, neither of these two things really get at some of the ways in which church as “church” can become rather a thing unto itself. An institution not serving the world or its Lord, but rather itself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of these “Jesus hates the Church/religion” people. I think that’s a little overblown. As it is the Body of Christ, I love and cherish the Church Universal throughout all space and time. Yes, Christianity is about relationship, but as relationship is organized it naturally takes form and structure. When it comes to human relations with God, that structure is called religion. That’s simply the way it is. But I’ll tell you what…I do think that some of the ways we act and organize ourselves when we as the gathered community join together for church services can be strange (at best).

Ultimately, I believe we keep doing things in certain ways because a) we think we have to by the bonds of tradition or sometimes misunderstood Scripture, b) we’re not creative enough to think of any other way, and c) we are more comfortable with it than we are changing. I’m not sure that any of these is sufficient reason to keep doing what we’re doing. If the goal in all of this is a matter of the Spirit, in our predictable churchy ways I’m not sure we’re following where the Spirit’s blowing.

I’ve been vague about which practices, habits, and forms I’m critiquing here. Perhaps intentionally so. I think that all of us, if we think about it, could come up with ways in which our churches and local congregations are focused so much on peculiar side-quests and the maintenance of non-essential and (from an outside point of view) bizarre practices we don’t even realize that we’re propping up what amounts to nothing but our own preferences or lethargic momentum writ large.

It is times like this that I think about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his thoughts about “religionless Christianity.” His use of the term is debated, so I’ll just quote him:

Our whole nineteen-hundred-year-old Christian preaching and theology rest on the “religious a priori” of mankind. “Christianity” has always been a form–perhaps the true form–of “religion.” But if one day it becomes clear that this a priori does not exist at all, but was a historically conditioned and transient form of human self-expression, and if therefore man becomes radically religionless–and I think that that is already more or less the case…what does that mean for “Christianity”? It means that the foundation is taken away from the whole of what has up to now been our “Christianity,” and that there remain only a few “last survivors of the age of chivalry,” or a few intellectually dishonest people that we are to pounce in fervor, pique, or indignation, in order to sell them goods? Are we to fall upon a few unfortunate people in their hour of need and exercise a sort of religious compulsion on them?

If we don’t want to do all that, if our final judgment must be that the Western form of Christianity, too, was only a preliminary stage to a complete absence of religion, what kind of situation emerges for us, for the church? How can Christ become the Lord of the religionless as well? Are there religionless Christians? If religion is only a garment of Christianity–and even this garment has looked very different at different times–then what is a religionless Christianity?

Review: “Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture” (Part III)

Mar1

In the final segment of my three-part review of James Moorhead’s Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture, I would like to once again commend my former professor for a job well-done. Much of my praise is detailed in other posts. Today, a few small critiques of the book and a closing though or two.

I’ll name only a few real issues here, yet even they need to be understood in the light of Moorhead’s proviso early in the book:

…other important matters receive relatively light treatment: for example, student life at Princeton, the seminary’s contributions to the church and world through its alumni, the growth of the school’s physical plant, the development of its music program, and the process by which the endowment of the seminary was raised….this book makes no claim to offer a complete or definitive history of Princeton Seminary. It is, to reiterate the point already made, a narrative tracing the school’s sense of mission, its basic values, and the way these interact with–and sometimes against–the religion and culture of the time.

Though being forthright about what he chooses to pass over, I still wonder if by omitting these and other elements Moorhead is leaving his story a little less rich. Student issues, for instance, are discussed a little early on and with regard to the slavery debate as well as concerning the Student Volunteer Movement (i.e. missions) in the later 1800s. These issues and episodes both provide additional insight into the seminary and its place in American religion. It is unfortunate, however, that even more attention is not paid to the role the seminary’s student population played throughout the seminary’s existence, especially in the twentieth century. When compared to the rest of the text, discussions of student’s thought and experiences play a very small role. More of their perspectives would serve to offer an alternate or complementary narrative to a history often dominated by the ideas and actions of professors and other leaders.

A second concern is about something else Moorhead leaves out: youth ministry. Though appearing in the caption of one tangentially related photo, he takes no real time to discuss the Institute for Youth Ministry. The work of the Institute and Professor Kenda Dean is, I think, one of the more important developments in the seminary during the past two decades. Dean’s work and influence at both a scholarly level and with a rising field of practical theologians is indicative of a larger shift in the Church and has the potential to be transformative for years to come. I’m a little disappointed that these efforts were overlooked.

Lastly–and I find this true in most similar histories–as we get closer to the present Moorhead’s analysis become a little more disjointed in theme and can take the form of a list of developments and people rather than broad ideas. Even though he comes to a helpful conclusion, the narrative breaks down a little in the post-Mackay era.

These questions about Moorhead’s text are, however, small in comparison to its achievement. I personally look forward to pairing it or selections from it with a survey text of American religious history for use in the classroom. Focused yet broad in scope, Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture is in itself an argument for the place of the historian as society’s scholar, sage, storyteller, and explanatory guide. I highly commend it to any who wish to know more about American religion and that way it has changed and grown over time.

Review: “Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture” (Part II)

Feb27

In the second of my three-part review of James Moorhead’s Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture, I’d like to focus my attention on the book as a case study in historical writing. Notable for many reasons, Moorhead’s monograph is a classic example of the way a religious historian can through diligent research and skilled writing not only depict the life and times of days gone by, but also provide an evenhanded and fair approach to the various historical actors.

At different points in its history Princeton Seminary was dominated by certain key figures, and Moorhead does well here to provide adequate attention to those individuals. The seminary’s first two professors, Samuel Miller and Archibald Alexander garner attention early on. As the story of the school moves into the middle of the 19th century, the life and thought of Charles Hodge becomes the focus of Moorhead’s writing. Hodge is, of course, a controversial figure for many, and Moorhead does not shy away for some of the things for which he is remembered: 1) an “undiluted paternalism” (161) with regard to African-Americans and a tolerance for slavery (at least in the short-term), and 2) his rather conservative and traditionalist theology that today can be cariacatured as retrogressive.

But even of this latter reality Moorhead makes clear the Hodge should not be, as some have

…reduced him to conservative Presbyterian theology, opposition to Darwinism, or the debate over biblical infallibility. All of these were indeed a part of his legacy; but understood in the context of his own time and not simply as a precursor to the Presbyterian conflicts of the 1920s, he was also much more and deserves to be remembered as such. (232-233)

Moorhead echoes this kind of even-handed treatment when speaking of another commonly cited leader of Princeton conservatism (and theological successor to Hodge) B. B. Warfield, not that he “does not fit easily into the stereotypes forged after the religious conflicts of the 1920s and ’30s.” (279). This balanced and generous approach to history that seeks to explain rather than evaluate has long been one with which I have identified. Jim Moorhead no doubt influenced me ever further in this direction during my studies with him. To me it simply makes sense that we as historians are called to tell the whole story, even of people we might not entirely like. For instance, even Moorhead’s discussion of the somewhat unsympathetic J. Gresham Machen manages to offer some context for this theological views and position on Presbyterian polity.

Besides this historiographic balance, another notable feature of Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture involves Moorhead’s discussion of one of the school’s presidents, John Mackay. An influential figure at the school, in national politics, and in ecumenical affairs during the middle of the 20th century, Mackay’s life and presidential tenure have not yet been given all the historical attention they deserve. Moorhead’s efforts in chapters 14 and 15 are a helpful corrective to this. Most notably for me and my research interests, even Mackay’s connection with Pentecostalism and the Charismatic Movement is given attention within the text.

The fifth chapter, entitled “Princeton and the Presbyterian Schism of 1837″ also stood out as a masterpiece of historical writing that I look forward to assigning for my students. It is, quite frankly, a marvelous synthesis of issues in which the school, theological issues, and church politics are woven together in a fascinating pattern. Moorhead’s treatment of what on the face of it might seem a rather boring episode in the life American Presbyterianism came across as an expert and engaging look at a number of cogent issues of great import. As he says that the beginning of the chapter, Princeton’s decision to side with a particular side in the conflict “was a fateful decision, shaping the identity of the school profoundly for decades to come.” (119)

Because of the book’s great merits I consider it essential reading for all incoming students at Princeton Theological Seminary, both for its careful description of the school’s DNA and the way in which big ideas and large personalities came to dominate and define the course the institution in some sense still charts today. Others too will accrue great benefit from considering the issues and themes Moorhead skillfully raises.

Grade Me Now

Feb26

In my Principles and Methods of Teaching course, I’ve asked our students to read through James Fowler’s classic Stages of Faith and write brief (300 word) critical reviews on each of its five sections. Grades on the first assignment were not received well, and there was some concern from the students that 300 words simply was not enough space for this kind of discussion. I argued for the virtue of being concise, but also made a promise: that I would write my own review for Section II of the book, and have students grade me on my work. I also said I’d post my work on here and allow the world to grade me as well.

So, without further ado, here are my thoughts…grade away!

James Fowler confesses that earlier in life he had been “a citizen reared in the land of theology…try[ing] to earn dual citizenship in the new world of psychology of human development” (38). While we as readers are often strangers to both worlds, if the rest of Stages of Faith is as helpful and insightful as this section has been, we should have no fear in relying on him as our trail guide through unfamiliar terrain. Having spent his first few chapters discussing matters related to faith proper, in Part II Fowler turns his attention to three theories of human psychological development. In so doing, he draws upon the thought of Piaget, Kohlberg, and Erickson. How we think, how we make moral evaluations, and how certain characteristics come to define us as individuals are essential topics here.

Fowler uses a novel approach in this section: an imagined conversation. In chapters 7-11, he posits what a discussion about human life stages from infancy through adulthood might look like from the perspective of his assembled experts. These collected thoughts reframe what could be a dry academic monograph into a much more engaging confab amongst intellectual peers, pointing the way forward for a future discussion of developmental faith. This said, readers dealing with such heady subject matter deserve better illustrations than the confusing models in chapter 10. While Table 2.1 (immediately preceding chapter 7) is essential in comparing each scholar’s perspective to the others, the frequency with which readers must return to it again and again indicates: a) such a resource be featured prominently in each chapter, and b) the material even as mediated through the imagined conversation can at times still be a bit opaque. Yet despite its few shortcomings, Fowler’s unique approach represents a worthwhile time investment and readers will be richer for having engaged the ideas within.

Review: “Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture” (Part I)

Feb25

Courtesy of the folks at Eerdmans, I’ve recently had the privilege of reading James Moorhead’s new book Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture. Princeton Seminary holds a special place in my heart, as I earned both my MDiv and PhD degrees there over the course of nine years. My doctoral work in the history of American Christianity only increased my excitement for the book. The fact that Jim Moorhead was a favorite professor and doctoral advisor? Simply icing on the cake.

There’s a lot to be said about this diligently researched monograph, and as such I’ll be splitting my review into three parts over the course of the week. For today, I’d like to think a bit about the central thesis of the book. As Moorhead describes it, his desire was to discover what the leaders of PTS hoped for the school to accomplish together with “placing the seminary’s vision, and goals within the larger ecology of American religion, culture, and society.” (x) On both counts he does a masterful job by weaving together the world the seminary made and its relationship to the world around it. Quite deliberately, Moorhead here looks to George Marsden’s history of Fuller Seminary vis-a-vis American evangelicalism (Reforming Fundamentalism) as he attempts, in some sense, to look at American Christianity through the lens of Princeton Seminary.

As a uniquely national Presbyterian seminary, Princeton from its founding was committed to:

…and emphasis upon religious experience, a faith in solid learning and the Enlightenment, and an optimism that these forces together were improving the human lot. (xx)

Elsewhere Moorhead refers to this ideal as a Common Sense Realism commitment to both “learning and piety.” (63ff) Though clear in the minds of the founders,

the subsequent history of the seminary would in part be a narrative of the way in which these varying commitments played themselves out or how, like the design in a kaleidoscope, they shifted into different patterns. It would not a trouble-free story, for the various loyalties sometimes fit together awkwardly. (xx)

Indeed, the entirety of the seminary’s 19th century existence was dominated by maintaining faith and learning as twin paths of truth and orthodoxy. Yet when faced with the critiques of higher criticism, theological liberalism, and advancing evolutionary theory the seminary convulsed. By the 1920s the issues of fundamentalism and liberalism, writ large in the societal debate over evolution, sundered Princeton as well. Yet as Moorhead has shown, this sundering did not negate the school’s commitment to faith and learning. It simply renegotiated the relationship between the two. This explains why Barth’s Neo-Orthodoxy found an early home at the school that persists to this day, and also why issues of faith and a specifically Christian spirituality–while sometimes contentious–have nevertheless been a persistent part of the school’s life.

In part, this journey helped me personally connect my experience of Princeton in the early 21st century with its storied and Hodge-filled 19th century existence. Moorhead’s closing quotation of missiologist Andrew Walls, that “we need each other’s vision to correct, enlarge, and focus our own; only together are we complete in Christ” (509) rings true for the diverse new world of Princeton Theological Seminary and the Church it serves as it continues in an historic commitment to piety and learning today.

As a description of the theological, structural, and personal elements that went into making Princeton Seminary what it is, Moorhead has done his school a great service. By offering this story in a way that connects with the broad stream of Christian faith with American culture he has helpfully informed us all.

Joshua Ryan Ziefle