The Many Faces of Integration
Liberal Faith between Church, Academy, and World
Transforming Theology Project
Concluding post on Philip Clayton’s Adventures in the Spirit, (Fortress, 2008), chapter 17.
We have reached the end of our journey through Philip Clayton’s Adventures in the Spirit. It has been quite an adventure – at times, arduous, and always challenging. I have struggled with the language and the concepts at many points, in large part due to my own lack of knowledge of the sciences and philosophy. Nonetheless, it has been a worthwhile journey, one that has provided a new way of looking at such concepts as panentheism and the relationship of faith and science. I have heard a call to stay clear of compartmentalizing my life, so that my faith and science are placed in hermetically sealed compartments, never to encounter each other. Instead, Clayton has invited us to understand that theology and science are different and yet they can, if allowed to interact, enrich each other.
In this final chapter, Clayton offers us a look at an integrative theology, one that may provide a way forward for those who consider themselves liberal Christians. In this perspective, we are invited to engage our doubts and questions, knowing that “wrestling with the tough challenges of our age leads to a stronger and more enduring form of faith” (p. 256). This is a very attractive offer, one that we must take seriously, for we live in a world that is increasingly impacted by science – do we as Christians embrace science or do we pretend it doesn’t exist, at least when we’re in church or our prayer closets.
Thus, we’re invited to join up with Clayton’s “integrative theology,” one that has been present throughout the journey that he has led us on these many chapters. Consider:
The tradition that Clayton believes is best placed to accomplish this goal is a liberal theology, which has as its formative principle that of the 16th Century – Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda, that is “the church reformed and always reforming.” It is the assumption that the 16th century reforms of Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, Cranmer, and Simons, were a starting point, not the end point. Thus, the contributions of Schleiermacher and others need to be considered as part of the reforming tradition. It is the foundation of liberal Christianity, but unfortunately liberal Christianity has lost its footing – its principles obscured, its convictions lacking, and its passion without intensity. The Tillichs and the Niebuhrs of yesterday simply aren’t present.
Liberal Christians have lost their voice, they no longer walk with a sense of confidence, but seem to shuffle along, making little impact, while more conservative voices have taken hold of the conversation. Indeed, Clayton latches onto a phrase prominent among more liberal Christians – including myself – that of the “spiritual journey. He suggests that such a perspective is insufficient, for too often “spiritual” comes down to a “lowest common denominator” faith. Thus, if we’re to engage the world, we must reengage our heritage and its resources.
If Martin Luther King’s vision of racial reconciliation offers us a picture of integration – of faith and justice – we live in a time requiring another call to integration, one that draws upon classic text of theology and develops new forms of theology in conversation with contemporary forms of philosophy, other religions, human culture, the social sciences, and the physical sciences. We must enter these conversations, however, holding to our own convictions that are formed by our faith traditions. And to provide us with a foundational formulation, Clayton offers Wesleyanism – more specifically “radical Wesleyanism,” one that takes seriously Scripture, Tradition, Experience, and Reason. From H. Richard Niebuhr, Clayton takes inspiration for what “can be a confessional theology which carries on the work of self-criticism and self-knowledge in the church” (p. 261).
So, what does this integrated theology look like? Well, it would appear that it’s one that enters into conversation with the sciences – without fear of scientific discoveries, knowing that theology must adapt to the findings of science. It is also one that enters into conversation with the social sciences, without fear that psychology and sociology will offer explanations of religious identity and expression. Finally, it will be a theology that defends “social ethics drawn from political theory and the analysis of American society today” (p. 26). As we develop our way of living in society, we will draw upon both society and our Scriptures and traditions.
The kind of liberal faith that Clayton has in mind is “radically incarnational.” That is it engages with society in a way that requires of us courage and a prophetic voice. He speaks of a “hatred of the trivial,” which I need for him to unpack further, and a “refusal to become self absorbed” (p. 263). It will be a vision that integrates “what humanity knows – our history, our science, our highest moral values, our involvement with political institutions – with the tradition handed down through the centuries” (p. 263). That is, scripture and tradition, on one hand, must work together with experience and reason, to come to grips with a theology that makes sense in today’s world, and for tomorrow’s world. This is not an either/or, but a both/and situation. This brings us to the question of revelation – is it fixed (in the Bible) or is ongoing? Clayton believes, I think rightly so, that revelation – an unfolding knowledge of God’s vision – continues, though it is rooted in the biblical tradition and the church tradition.
If this integrative theology is to have an impact, then it must take on a prophetic role. Prophets are, Clayton suggests, those who “challenge existing structures, who call others back to what is essential” (p. 265). Indeed, it such a voice calls us away from the trivial and from self-absorption. It’s not easy being a prophet – they are rarely held with honor in their own hometowns. But it’s a necessary calling. It is this prophetic vision that will call us back to our purpose, which is to be about the ongoing reformation of our faith tradition, pointing us forward with dreams and visions of what God is up to in the world.
I find this vision attractive and challenging. It will require much of us, and I’m not sure we’re all ready for this journey. We’ve lost our bearings and our convictions, and thus, to take up the call with a strong voice is not easy. We’d like to shuffle along, keeping our heads down, fearful that we’ll be found out. But, Clayton suggests a different future, and thus he boldly calls us out, suggesting we take up a liberal vision.
I wonder if this isn’t what is meant by being a “liberal evangelical.” Isn’t Clayton inviting us to proclaim the good news that God is in the land, present in our lives and in our world, seeking to transform the world, not by taking us back to a pre-critical, pre-scientific past, but into the future, a future where science and the social sciences, will continue to have explanatory power, a power that the church must hear and engage with, or become hopelessly irrelevant.
I asked about whether this will preach. Clayton has offered his answer. Now, will we have the courage of our convictions to engage in this calling?
We have reached the end of our journey through Philip Clayton’s Adventures in the Spirit. It has been quite an adventure – at times, arduous, and always challenging. I have struggled with the language and the concepts at many points, in large part due to my own lack of knowledge of the sciences and philosophy. Nonetheless, it has been a worthwhile journey, one that has provided a new way of looking at such concepts as panentheism and the relationship of faith and science. I have heard a call to stay clear of compartmentalizing my life, so that my faith and science are placed in hermetically sealed compartments, never to encounter each other. Instead, Clayton has invited us to understand that theology and science are different and yet they can, if allowed to interact, enrich each other.
In this final chapter, Clayton offers us a look at an integrative theology, one that may provide a way forward for those who consider themselves liberal Christians. In this perspective, we are invited to engage our doubts and questions, knowing that “wrestling with the tough challenges of our age leads to a stronger and more enduring form of faith” (p. 256). This is a very attractive offer, one that we must take seriously, for we live in a world that is increasingly impacted by science – do we as Christians embrace science or do we pretend it doesn’t exist, at least when we’re in church or our prayer closets.
Thus, we’re invited to join up with Clayton’s “integrative theology,” one that has been present throughout the journey that he has led us on these many chapters. Consider:
“At every point I have resisted calls to circle the wagons in order to protect inherited Christian beliefs from outside examination and criticism. Yet, like many, I find deep value in much that Christian tradition has handed down. There is no integration if one sees contemporary culture and science as enemies from which one needs to protect her faith on every front. Nor is there integration if one retains nothing from the tradition with which to engage as she pursues dialogue with science, philosophy, and other religious traditions. This drive to integrate is an ethical and deeply religious commitment that I believe lies at the very core of Christian identity in today’s world.” (P. 256).
The tradition that Clayton believes is best placed to accomplish this goal is a liberal theology, which has as its formative principle that of the 16th Century – Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda, that is “the church reformed and always reforming.” It is the assumption that the 16th century reforms of Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, Cranmer, and Simons, were a starting point, not the end point. Thus, the contributions of Schleiermacher and others need to be considered as part of the reforming tradition. It is the foundation of liberal Christianity, but unfortunately liberal Christianity has lost its footing – its principles obscured, its convictions lacking, and its passion without intensity. The Tillichs and the Niebuhrs of yesterday simply aren’t present.
“It is a potent heritage, which in the past has had a transformative influence on society and the church as a whole: powerful convictions, powerful arguments, and powerful leaders in the church, the academy, and society. Today, one worries, the mainline churches seem to be suffering from a sort of liberal laryngitis” (p. 257).
Liberal Christians have lost their voice, they no longer walk with a sense of confidence, but seem to shuffle along, making little impact, while more conservative voices have taken hold of the conversation. Indeed, Clayton latches onto a phrase prominent among more liberal Christians – including myself – that of the “spiritual journey. He suggests that such a perspective is insufficient, for too often “spiritual” comes down to a “lowest common denominator” faith. Thus, if we’re to engage the world, we must reengage our heritage and its resources.
If Martin Luther King’s vision of racial reconciliation offers us a picture of integration – of faith and justice – we live in a time requiring another call to integration, one that draws upon classic text of theology and develops new forms of theology in conversation with contemporary forms of philosophy, other religions, human culture, the social sciences, and the physical sciences. We must enter these conversations, however, holding to our own convictions that are formed by our faith traditions. And to provide us with a foundational formulation, Clayton offers Wesleyanism – more specifically “radical Wesleyanism,” one that takes seriously Scripture, Tradition, Experience, and Reason. From H. Richard Niebuhr, Clayton takes inspiration for what “can be a confessional theology which carries on the work of self-criticism and self-knowledge in the church” (p. 261).
So, what does this integrated theology look like? Well, it would appear that it’s one that enters into conversation with the sciences – without fear of scientific discoveries, knowing that theology must adapt to the findings of science. It is also one that enters into conversation with the social sciences, without fear that psychology and sociology will offer explanations of religious identity and expression. Finally, it will be a theology that defends “social ethics drawn from political theory and the analysis of American society today” (p. 26). As we develop our way of living in society, we will draw upon both society and our Scriptures and traditions.
The kind of liberal faith that Clayton has in mind is “radically incarnational.” That is it engages with society in a way that requires of us courage and a prophetic voice. He speaks of a “hatred of the trivial,” which I need for him to unpack further, and a “refusal to become self absorbed” (p. 263). It will be a vision that integrates “what humanity knows – our history, our science, our highest moral values, our involvement with political institutions – with the tradition handed down through the centuries” (p. 263). That is, scripture and tradition, on one hand, must work together with experience and reason, to come to grips with a theology that makes sense in today’s world, and for tomorrow’s world. This is not an either/or, but a both/and situation. This brings us to the question of revelation – is it fixed (in the Bible) or is ongoing? Clayton believes, I think rightly so, that revelation – an unfolding knowledge of God’s vision – continues, though it is rooted in the biblical tradition and the church tradition.
If this integrative theology is to have an impact, then it must take on a prophetic role. Prophets are, Clayton suggests, those who “challenge existing structures, who call others back to what is essential” (p. 265). Indeed, it such a voice calls us away from the trivial and from self-absorption. It’s not easy being a prophet – they are rarely held with honor in their own hometowns. But it’s a necessary calling. It is this prophetic vision that will call us back to our purpose, which is to be about the ongoing reformation of our faith tradition, pointing us forward with dreams and visions of what God is up to in the world.
I find this vision attractive and challenging. It will require much of us, and I’m not sure we’re all ready for this journey. We’ve lost our bearings and our convictions, and thus, to take up the call with a strong voice is not easy. We’d like to shuffle along, keeping our heads down, fearful that we’ll be found out. But, Clayton suggests a different future, and thus he boldly calls us out, suggesting we take up a liberal vision.
“Let us be avant garde, think new thoughts, dream new dreams, and imagine a future that no one has imagined before. For this, I believe, is our particular vocation and our distinctive contribution.” (P. 267).
I wonder if this isn’t what is meant by being a “liberal evangelical.” Isn’t Clayton inviting us to proclaim the good news that God is in the land, present in our lives and in our world, seeking to transform the world, not by taking us back to a pre-critical, pre-scientific past, but into the future, a future where science and the social sciences, will continue to have explanatory power, a power that the church must hear and engage with, or become hopelessly irrelevant.
I asked about whether this will preach. Clayton has offered his answer. Now, will we have the courage of our convictions to engage in this calling?
Comments
You are the third Disciples' pastor I have stumbled upon in the past couple of years who has left me more than a little impressed. I think your congregation is fortunate to have you at the helm of their church.