Unsettled Christianity

One blog to rule them all, One blog to find them, One blog to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
May 20th, 2013

Joel Willitts 2, Warren Carter 1 (Jesus is Lord, Caesar is Not @ivpacademic)

I’ve never been one to take anything wholesale, including the theories and/or hypotheses I agree with.1 So, when it comes to reading Warren Carter, I do have my problems with him. I have thus found something more to agree with Joel Willitts than the awesomeness of his first name.

Willitts is sympathetic to Carter (84) although changes the direction of Carter’s Empire away from Rome to that-which-is-not-Jesus’s. The essayist displays Carter’s genius easily enough, and then precedes to challenge the extent to which the scholar has taken his conclusions. I must agree with many of the points in Willitts’ evaluation, including the all or nothing approach Carter seems to employ. To suggest Matthew is writing directly against the Empire from start to stop is to first deny Markan priority and second the historicity of the person of Jesus. Is Jesus just a literary vehicle for Matthew? Hardly. Further, as Matthew pulls a great deal from Mark, but loosens the anti-imperialist message found in that Gospel, I would argue Matthew’s main goal is not Rome, but Antioch.

I will not bore you with anything else, saving that for the review later; however, I must engage one area, and explain why I think Carter has at least one point in this round. Willitts only engages Carter and not Carter’s foundation. The Essayist does speak to Carter’s methodology (85–9) and does so without polemical swipes. However, when speaking about the “cultural intertextuality” (what I have called the memetext) and “hidden transcripts,” Willitts only engages Carter and not the originator of those concepts. The essential concept to investigate is Scott’s idea of transcripts, but throughout this entire essay, Scott is not mentioned. Unfortunately, this doesn’t allow me to completely agree with Willitts, but the points Willitts raises must force the Empire Critic to carefully reexamine any full reliance upon Carter’s methodology. The role of the hidden transcript must not be underplayed, as it seems Willitts has done.2

Another point I will raise is Willitts’ objection to the use of Matthew’ genealogy in Carter’s empire critical studies (85). A genealogy tracing back to David and then to Abraham does not mean it is not related to Rome. What better way to treat Rome as a temporary plaything of long dead gods than to toss it aside by highlighting the promises made to King David, but further, before time really began, back to Abraham? Thus, it is not the lineage of the Flavians that matter, but the linage of a conquered people rescued always from the garbage dumps of history. Unfortunately, we must be skeptical here, as the genealogy is just as likely to point to the doubt many may have had in Jesus as a rightful messiah. Further, I would personally argue that the genealogy argues more for continuity with David and Abraham for the Church rather than have anything to do with either Rome or Jesus himself. Yet, the anti-Rome flavor of it remains.

There is rarely, anymore, a book I want to savor, to take apart piece by tender piece. This one, however, is one of them.

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  1. Well, except for the Farrer-Goulder Law. I take that wholesale because it’s true.
  2. I have looked ahead, into Pinter’s essay on Luke, to discover a mention there. Therefore, I want to save any discussion on the role of these transcripts for such a time.
May 20th, 2013

Is Diehl correct? (Jesus is Lord, Caesar is Not @ivpacademic)

In her essay “Anti-Imperial Rhetoric in the New Testament,” Judith A. Diehl, a New Testament professor at Denver Seminary, suggests anti-imperialist language in already suspect (because they were new) writings “could have resulted in the death of the ones communicating opposition to the ruling authorities and/or the audience to whom they wrote.” (43)

Is this accurate? I would counter that there are several barriers in existence between her statement and the allowance of a hidden anti-imperial stance in the Gospels and/or the rest of the New Testament. There are reasons to hide things in plain sight. We’d also have to assume the Emperor or someone connected to the Emperor cared enough to read the Gospels and/or Epistles. As Frederick Ahl suggests, Quintilian was able to get past the Flavian censors when he mentioned Lucan once. Then there is Statius and Martial. Lucan got caught, by Nero, but his wife still published his works.

It was entirely possible to write against the Empire, as I would like to hope I have demonstrated in my recent work, without the Empire taking note — and with other Christians not only taking note, but building upon it. The best anti-imperialist rhetoric comes from the hidden sources, hidden right under the Emperor’s nose. We see this in Latin orators/poets, so how is it we should not allow for this in a little known Jewish sect? The Jews had long perfect anti-imperialist writings, or polemical writings rather. The Christians just learned from those around them.

Again, I am not convinced every word in the NT drips with anti-imperialism, but there are aspects clearly evident.

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April 29th, 2013

Review of @ivpacademic’s Jesus Is the Christ: The Messianic Testimony of the Gospels

Dear readers, to be sure, I really did enjoy this book once I got past the first chapter. Further, I really do enjoy most of what Dr. Bird writes – you can find his blog here. As you will see, I disagree with the premise, but overall the book is rather enjoyable. I would love to dialogue about what event solidified Jesus as Messiah at some point in the future, but I have to agree, it’s not merely the Resurrection. Dr. Bird and I have discussed our respective views of what the Gospels are before (here and here). Also, IVP, I love you all, seriously. A lot. So, don’t hold this against me. 

There is often a subtle truth we readers fail to realize when reading a text purporting to reveal in an unbiased manner some historical event. There is a vast separation between the event and the literature of the event. Perhaps it is a separation cased by time, geographical location, or even in transmission. Further, with the onset of cognitive memory studies, we are starting to get a better picture of how the later act of remembering changes the perception of the event while warping, even ever-so-slightly, the transmission of said action so that future reception is itself changed. Recently, with the work of Chris Keith and Anthony Le Donne, we have seen the use of social memory science in exploring the Historical Jesus and subsequent fields of study related to him. Yet, Michael F. Bird, in his latest work, has none of this and instead plows ahead with the usual conservative view that the Gospels are something of a historical record rather than any sort of theologized and interpreted reflection of authors and communities existing decades after the life and death of the Historical Jesus. Did I mention the Gospels are heavily weighted in urging the readers to see Jesus how they want him seen?

While clichés are often fun to throw around, to suggest Oscar Cullmann contributed anything more substantial to Historical Jesus studies with his statement (10) than a well-worn cliché is to deny the progress of both science and biblical studies in this arena. Let me step back here for just a moment. I am not suggesting Cullmann understood his statement as a cliché, but it is often misused and thus suffers from an evolution into a cliché. It is almost like later students of Cullmann somehow transformed the teacher into something more than he claimed to be, even if we recognize him truly as such.

Early followers of Jesus, orthodox and heterodox, believed various things about him, yet the depth of belief does not make it necessarily true nor does it impart into the Historical Jesus something of that belief. Yes, I agree with Cullmann “the early church believed in Christ’s messiahship only because it believed that Jesus believed himself to be the Messiah.” But, these concepts are developed theological statements (specifically, ‘church’ and ‘messiah’). It’s akin to suggesting Jesus viewed himself as the Second Person of the Holy Trinity because Christians in the fourth century came to believe Jesus to be as such. Contra his claims on 143, the claims of the Gospels need not have a full basis in the Historical Jesus for them to be considered any less true. I believe Bird sees something of the weakness in his assumption when he suggests it is not necessary to see “‘messiah’ in every passage” (6) to understand that such a nascent view was taking hold in early 1st century Palestine. Indeed, such a woodenly literal attempt at placing the beliefs of the Gospels on the Historical Jesus misses much of the “remembering” aspect of John’s Gospel as well as the parenthetical alerts found in Mark’s Gospel.

I maintain that such a centralized concept of Messiah developed much later than the actual life of Jesus. The Gospels (there are no documents about Jesus pre-existing the Gospels) are, after all, our only record of the activities of Jesus. Paul, a vastly underused aspect of Historical Jesus studies in my humble opinion, does not list much about the Historical Jesus only that the Apostle believed him to be the Anointed, the one who had brought something of a balance to the force of ethno-convenantalsim. Does Paul see this as a messiah-laden duty? Most probably, given the use of ‘Christ Jesus’ but seeing as there were several messiahs in the Jewish literary and historical tradition (Cyrus is a prime example; Isaiah 45.1), it is doubtful Jesus would have placed, or rather, followers of Jesus would have placed a high stake on any self-proclamation and insistence of sole-use of the title. And of course, this brings up other questions as to whether or not Paul’s vision of Jesus was the version originally preached by the disciples. Simply put, the avenues we must cross in order to see Jesus seeing himself as the Messiah before the writing of the Gospels making it clear what Messiah means, is simply too much to bear.

With my overall disagreements with the premise so stated, let me turn to the benefits of this book. Michael Bird has written a marvelous and easy-to-grasp book filled with nuances, theology, and serious biblical studies with the aim to give the reader something of a grasp of how Jesus would have seen himself. If the interested reader can move past Bird’s insistence and rather see it as how the Gospels saw Jesus, this book becomes infinitely more useable than before. Of course, I suspect the author would rather have it used the way he insists.

The book, after the introduction, contains four chapters — one for each Gospel — and a conclusion. Each Gospel is handled with care, with the author exploring some of the history and setting of each work but delving into such topics and linguistics, rhetoric, and narrative functions of passages and other parts of the whole. He is correct — the basic current of the Gospels are the messianism of Jesus (142) and he aptly shows this. Unlike some apologists, Bird is able to deal with the differences between each Gospel without trying to mesh together and thus destroy the uniqueness of the Gospels. He also recognizes and upholds a key tenant of these Gospels — that the belief of Jesus as Messiah is essential to the authors and thus their intended audiences (145–6). In reality, I find nothing startling or questionable in his conclusion, nor in the preceding four chapters. What is in view, however, is Bird’s recognition of the messianism in the Gospels, something that cannot nor should be denied. Indeed, Bird’s use of the narrative and the tools of narrative criticism along with intertextuality has enraptured my spirit while reading this book, drawing me deep within, as much as possible, the author’s theological intent.

There is much to be gained from this book, especially in the very public way a serious scholar examines Scripture both with a sympathetic hear and an eye towards the academy. While I disagree with the overarching premise — that the Messianism of the Gospels must be dependent upon Jesus seeing himself as what the Gospels portray him as — the value of this book is not likely to be discarded because of the first chapter. I hope serious exegetes and lay readers read this book to discover what the Gospel writers are trying to ask each and every one of us.

March 26th, 2013

In the Mail: @mbird12′s Jesus Is the Christ: The Messianic Testimony of the Gospels @ivpacademic

Got this yesterday in a package the USPS had to retape. Can’t wait to read it:

Who do the Gospels say Jesus is? The title and role of “Messiah” ascribed to Jesus in the Gospels has long been regarded as a late add on, a fabricated claim or an insignificant feature. Michael Bird, however, argues that the Gospels’ messianic claims are the most significant feature of their portrayal of Jesus. Bird describes how each Evangelist portrays Jesus as the Messiah of Israel, what they think is at stake in that claim, and how the claim that “Jesus is the Messiah” drives the purpose and shape of the Gospels. Emphasizing that Christianity was a messianic movement rooted in its Jewish context, Bird points toward the profound theological implication of Jesus’ identity: that Jesus’ messiahship is the “mother of all Christology.”

February 12th, 2013

My quick run through of the recent @ivpacademic catalogue (Spring, 2013)

Sorry, but I had five minutes, and I figured that this was a lot easier to do than a series of blog posts on the various books that look great. Anyway, you can find more info here as well as, I hope soon, a copy of the catalogue.

Don’t tell me you didn’t click that link.

Hold up… you have one more chance.

January 22nd, 2013

Book Announcement: Commentary on John (by St. Cyril!!) (Ancient Christian Texts) @ivpacademic

Cyril of Alexandria (ca. 378-444), one of the most brilliant representatives of the Alexandrian theological tradition, is best known for championing the term Theotokos (mother of God) in opposition to Nestorius of Constantinople. Cyril’s great Commentary on John, offered here in the Ancient Christian Text series in two volumes, predates the Nestorian controversy, however, and focuses its theological fire power against Arianism. The commentary, which is addressed to catechists, displays Cyril’s breath-taking mastery of the full content of the Bible and his painstaking attention to detail as he seeks to offer practical teaching on the cosmic story of God’s salvation.

David Maxwell provides readers with the first complete English translation of the text since the nineteenth century. It rests on Pusey’s critical edition of the Greek text and puts on display Cyril’s theological interpretation of Scripture and his appeal to the patristic tradition that preceded him. Today’s readers will find the commentary an indispensable tool for understanding Cyril’s approach to Scripture.

The ACT series is one of the best – along with ACC on Scripture series (complete now). Anyway, happy to see this new volume. Check out the IVP-Academic book page here.

December 17th, 2012

@ivpress Review: Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes: Removing Cultural Blinders to Better Understand the Bible

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The (Western) Church has a severe problem with cultural blinders — both in reading Scripture and in expecting Scripture to be read in the same manner in all times and places. Pseudo-biblical scholars have long sought to keep them on, however. And now, when we are facing a demographic change of epic proportions, it has become the job of real scholars to attempt to give the Western Church a Damascus Road moment. This book will, for many, serve as a starting point to Ananias’ house.

This book as generally found a positive reception — I will not dampen that warmth — mostly because what these scholars are doing, under the cover as authors, is what scholars do on a daily basis, believing or otherwise. They have managed to convince many that Scripture deserves an honest reading, one respecting of the time and place of composition. This does not diminish the application of Scripture, nor the truth of it, but it requires us in our social contexts to respect not just Scripture but so too all of the receivers of Scripture the world over.

The casual reader will find no small matter of discomfort when they read about the images we have imposed upon Scripture, or how ancient writers may have borrowed images present in their own culture to write a different story. The more in depth reader will appreciate such brutal honesty, while still leaving room to question whether or not the authors went far enough (for instance, with their interpretation of a particular passage in the pastorals). A discerning reading will find something of a personal challenge in the second chapter, a chapter dealing with modern (um, Western) notions of race, culture, and other geopolitical reactionary forces. This is not just a post-racial ploy, however, as the authors in chapter three launch into a structural/post-structural discussion about the meaning of language and how it shapes or is shaped by our reality, something difficult enough to process on most days, but try reading a chapter about the inadequacy of language — try reading a chapter about how reading is sometimes not the best method of information transfer. You already see the problem, then. Or maybe you discount my words as an accurate representation of their words which is only a representation of their thoughts shaped by the inadequacy of words. The only real thing missing in this chapter is an exegesis of John Walton’s Lost World of Genesis One and the language of ontology.

Throughout the book, the authors change their voices — something that bothers me in a Platonic fashion — but each can relate their stories to the topics at hand. It is not merely a diatribe against Western culture, far from it. The topics presented show our present view not as derogatory but as something hindering Scriptural reading, not something that is inherently bad, evil, or otherwise. In three parts, nine chapters, the authors discuss a meaningful, well, lexicon in reading Scripture. From mores (sex, anyone?) to individualism to time as a measurement or a timing issue. Each topic is covered with a review of Scripture, stories from the cross-cultural experiences of the authors and a way forward. As well, each chapter is completed by a series of questions to ponder. Not every point is academically accurate, but this is  review, not a response. Further, I am unsure as to their suggestion that not-so-good theology should be sometimes left alone, as they seem to imply with their discussion, not of forensic justification (173) but with whether or not Junia was a woman (172). This is under the chapter on rules and relationships. This is also the one time they come dangerously close to welcoming a more robust challenge from this reviewer.

What bothers me the most, however, is the ease in which the authors are able to get to the reader. The conversational style of the work is more than pleasant — it is of such a quality as to ensure the reader will hear the words in their own voice. Further, the endnotes are plentiful as are the suggested follow-up resources. Before mission trips or in the first and last year of seminary, or in a Sunday School class, this book should become well worn.

December 6th, 2012

On a personal note – @ivpacademic’s Incarnational Humanism

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I have had this book for some time, and I wish I would have read it sooner. I regret not giving it more time and attention early on, but not doubt will return to it.

That’s one reason I am giving a copy away — because it deserves more attention.

I guess what I’m first saying is that I am sorry. You know, for not reading this review book earlier. I like reviewing and while it is not a job, I still feel like it is a responsibility.

Second thing, this book needs to be read in concert with Quas Primas. In 1925, Pope Pius XI established Christ the King’s feast for many of the same reasons Zimmermann has so adamantly written this book — because we in the West are embracing this false, dualistic, distinction between secular and sacred. I am not really speaking about the separation of Church and State. That is not the same thing. Instead, I am talking about this idea that any insertion of Christianity, or religion, into our Government is a moral crime. Guess what? It is because of the Christian humanistic philosophers that we have such an idea of the separation of Church and State. You cannot easily maintain Christian humanistic ideals, principles, and philosophies without, well, without Jesus Christ.

I have to say, there were times while reading this book I simply could not put it down. I was drawn so deeply into it. The theology behind it is powerful – the Fathers, Barth, Torrance, Bonhoeffer. Some of the greatest course correctors.

Seriously, this stuff doesn’t belong in a review – but you really need to get this book.

Even if you advocate humanism apart from God. Get this book. It’ll change your mind, I suspect.

Oh, and book reviewers – REVIEW YOUR STINKING BOOKS FASTER.

amen.

December 6th, 2012

@ivpacademic Review: Incarnational Humanism: A Philosophy of Culture for the Church in the World (Strategic Initiatives in Evangelical Theology)

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I fear our world has become too materialistic to continue to revel in our shared humanity — too concerned for the show rather than the image. Our author, Jens Zimmermann, is attempting to combat the genesis of my fears, it seems, and has done so with previous publications focusing, or rather refocusing, on humanism from the Christian perspective.

Zimmermann’s premise is at once breathtaking and simple. He will assert in a theological fashion that orthodox Christology remains the single best hope for incorporating a truly humanistic understanding of our community (10). In the preface there are hints of a much deeper philosophy here, based on the entirety of the Christian Tradition with a focus on the Catholic writers in particular (he moves from Irenaeus to de Lubac in short order). By the end of the preface we are introduced to the theological Logos, dualism, and Bonhoeffer (a theologian with the heart of a Catholic, I and his biographer would venture). Zimmermann’s goal, then, is better understood “not (as) an uncritical recovery of a certain Christian metaphysics” but to regain “a radically different theological notion of reality, a notion by which earlier Christians achieved a holistic view of the Christian life (13).” This, Zimmermanns suggests, will regain some moral fortitude in our increasingly inhuman society.

Why is this needed? Zimmermann sees a world turning to a humanism without God, and as has happened in the recent past, such a philosophy is doomed to bring destruction upon those we can easily consider inhuman. God, Zimmermann unashamedly insists, belongs at the forefront of humanism. This case is made through the incarnation of the logos, God become man in Jesus, so that all of humanity is elevated through participation in the divine. However, with the increased secularization of the West (and he does not mean the Fox News version of secularists and the War on Christmas, but an intrinsic secularization seeping even into our churches), we are losing not just God, but humanity as well. Not all is lost, however. Zimmermann has watched secularism implode (43). He has also watched how national leaders, even in the arch-secular France, have increasingly come to realize the danger of the West relying too much on a scientific philosophy rather than a God-centered humanism. Zimmermann is correct to note as well that this rather cold philosophy is found in fundamentalism, a term he applies to Christians, Muslims, and Scientists alike. This is the goal of the first chapter, to establish the social context upon which Zimmermann with stand to examine and then to proclaim. It is a dark social context to be sure, but one we see increasingly played out in front of our eyes. Again.

The second chapter establishes the theological underpinnings of Christian humanism, rather the Christological, as well as the history of the philosophy that reaches back into hallow patristic antiquity. Christian humanism has two sacraments — deification and the eucharist. Yes, humanism of the metaphysical variety, reaches back to Plato, but because of both the Eastern and the Western Churches the anchoring of humanism, the philosophy of the human, is based upon Christ in the incarnation and thus, exists outside the normal confines of our spheres of influence. Because of this anchoring, the drive to better ourselves is a desire to achieve theosis, a Christian ideal. This is what once drove us, Zimmermann insists. The third chapter, with a discussion on medeval and Renaissance, becomes the examples of how a rediscovery of an incarnational humanism propelled the West and likewise, how the Western Church decided that such a philosophy was an anchor that prevented movement rather than one that protected against the storm. Contrary to popular myths, Christianity and its narrative of humanism in the West is what drove the scientific revolutions along with a few more revolutions, or perhaps, Reformations. I must note that the silencing of the narrative did not occur over night, but then again, evil only takes hold when a society aggressively becomes apathetic.

So, how did we move from a humanism anchored to God to a humanism that is nothing more than a philosophy aimed at making us inhuman? Zimmermann’s fourth and fifth chapters cover this. The fourth traces the development of the German enlightenment as it brought down an God-anchored humanism while the fifth shows how the heart of the West, Europe, finalized the separation of God and human ideals. If we step back and look at the timeline Zimmermann has produced, we see that much more clearly the horrors he suggets in his preface — the horrors that come from moving the focus and anchor of humanism away from God — the horrors that allowed one well-known philosophy to dismiss Christ and accept Nazism. However, in the examination, he is still fair, even if he knows the conclusion. For instance, in Zimmermann’s examination of Heidegger, the philosophy is given a treatment showing a more complete picture of his thought, both negative and positive (189-199). No baby is cast out with any bathwater. But, it is in this chapter especially we see where the most destructive force, one that shaped the twentieth century, first begins — when we become the universal by which we judge rather than exist as the judged. The fifth chapter, then, shows how someone (Vattimo) attempted to recover from this horror, but came close because the basic lexicon remained the same (261).

The sixth chapter moves from German-shaped Enlightenment philosophy to German-led theology. His epigram is from Karl Barth, but on the pages are Bonhoeffer (the quote on 264 seems to be a guiding theme for the entirety of this and his other words). He quickly returns to his first themes, that of dualism. He successfully argues throughout the book that the dualism proposed by later secular humanists is unnatural; here, he urges for a natural humanism, one that does not separate the secular and the sacred. He pulls out Bonhoeffer’s argument of a “realistic responsibility.” Our Christian life, then, so intertwined with this world, must not follow platitudes, but strive for the ideal. We have lost this, Zimmermann argues, over the course of the last few centuries, but we can retrieve it, and perhaps, I would argue, more so in a secular world. His final chapter is a deeply theological setpiece where we see all of his interwoven thoughts finally come together.

This book is one of the most profound books to deal with the issue of the declining moral foundation of the West. We have thought too much, it seems, and to retrieve that which we have lost while preventing the inhuman futures awaiting us like wolves the hobbled rabbit, we must return to the intellectual foundation provided for us through patristic interpretations of Plato. Zimmerman does not simply state the problem, outline the dangers, and suggest we return to God as if he was poorly imitating an Old Testament prophet; what this author does is to go into minute detail of where we, where we have come from, while warning us of were we are going not just with insincere fear-mongering, but with latent examples the author and the audience know all too well. He then proposes through the same method a path to return, to reset, our humanistic endeavors.

This book demands your reading.

December 5th, 2012

Zimmermann — Fundamentalists as Dualists @ivpacademic

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I have at times called them gnostics and deitists, but to suggest they are really dualists? Zimmermann makes this charge on pages 11-12 after he defines the term, dualist, to refer to “any unlawful separation of the divine revelation from its mediation through beings and things.”

You know it’s true. For fundamentalists, Scripture is this non-quantifiable object, a paradoxical quirk that exists outside space and time separate from both God and the pages it is written on. Oh, and he even hints as the gnosticism of fundamentalism when he speaks about a “spiritual… certainty.” Fundamentalists separation the flesh and the spirit in an unwarranted way.

But, he does’t just stop there. He calls those who “neglect… sacramental realities” Christian dualists as well.

What really makes all of these dualists? Because they forget that “all human knowledge is mediated.”

Anyway… a dang fine way to begin a book.

October 26th, 2012

@ivpacademic REVIEW: Christ-Centered Biblical Theology: Hermeneutical Foundations and Principles

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Goldsworthy, Graeme. Christ-Centered Biblical Theology: Hermeneutical Foundations and Principles. IVP Academic, 2012.

Kevin J. Vanhoozer, in his endorsement of the book, praises the Australian school of biblical theology against the lack of one in North America. He laments the fragmentation of biblical theology, and I assume, of course he means here. No doubt, this is the case, with some following this one or that some following that one, and some following no one but themselves. If there is one singular value in this book — and there are many — then it is that an evangelical Anglican scholar from Australia has completely showed American biblical theologians how proper biblical theology is done.

Upon first reading Graeme Goldsworthy’s self-introduction in this book, I found it refreshing that an author could trace his theological ancestry as far as he did. After reading the book, I realize that this theological family tree is part and parcel with Goldsworthy overarching scheme of biblical theology. His theological descent is whole, complete, and traceable, without any areas of gray, much like his description of biblical theology. Equally so is his insistence in both realms on a Christ-centered approach. This is one of the most striking features of the book – the focus on every act of Scripture centered on Christ. This becomes almost polemical in denying the contributions of Abelard and others of the moral exemplar view, but taken in context of how Goldsworthy views biblical theology, one can understand the often over the top insistence that all others are liberals. Goldsworthy sees Christ as the goal of Scripture, and any hint of deviation riles him.

The book is systematically divided into eleven chapters where he dogmatically tackles the topics of biblical theology. After a sound introduction of fact rather than philosophy, Goldsworthy honestly lays out the need for presuppositions while doing biblical theology as well as what those presuppositions are. This is important for the casual reader and the measured investigator alike; after all, if you do not know your foundation, how else can you continue? Once this is done, Goldsworthy launches into what is bound to make many upset — that the Old Testament is really a Christian-looking document completed only by the New Testament. Investigating what the Germans call Heilsgesschichte, or salvation history, Goldworthy establishes his view that the Kingdom of God, rather than any particular doctrine (such as the dogmaticists would propose) is the core of Scripture. This chapter is followed by one on Evangelical Practice, which I suspect would better serve the reader if it preceded the previous chapter, or arrived near the end of the book. Regardless of placement, it is Goldsworthy’s most humble chapter as he declares that no evangelical biblical theology “can claim to have the final word on the matter (98).” Granted, he does not advocate for a multifaceted view, such as the one advocated by Craig Evans (See Craig A. Evans in Porter, Stanley E., and Beth M. Stovell, eds. Biblical Hermeneutics: Five Views. IVP Academic, 2012 — my review here) but this should help, at least, with allowing that Goldsworthy does not think himself above question  – he just doesn’t believe in a unity in diversity amalgamation, as discussed in chapter 5. The next several chapters examine the progressive revelation and typological theology that must accompany biblical theology as Goldsworthy reads the Old and New Testaments. He finishes with a chapter on Robinson (his teacher) and Hebert’s typological theology as well as a chapter on application.

I clearly disagree with many of the elements of this book; however, several positive attributes stand out. First, Goldsworthy knows and believes what he says. In my discussions with North Americans who claim to be biblical theologians, I have yet to find anyone who meets the intellectual capabilities of Goldsworthy. His intellectual honesty, especially in laying out the presuppositions, and this dogmatic grasp of those presuppositions is quite frankly rewarding. His focus on Christ is one that must call all theologians to reexamine their commitment to the historical confessions of the Christian faith. His focus on thematic material such as the Kingdom of God and the notion of revelation will interest more than it turns off. For theological writers, his style is one to be mimicked. It speaks easily to the reader, as if you are in a one on one conversation with the author. Even the footnotes are succinct.

Finally, Goldsworthy shows the aptness of doing biblical theology. This is not my theology, but the inventive methodology Goldsworthy proposes and applies is one that connects all strands of Scripture together. Whether or not it is forced, as some may suspect, it is nevertheless a consistent theme for the author and in this consistency, we find remarkable clarity.

The beauty of this book is this: regardless of the near diatribic nature of his views on any other times of theology, or against those who see (even sometimes) moral exemplary roles and his rather forceful views on certain dogmas that many post-modern Christians will find troublesome, what Goldsworthy has produced is a book that restores the confidence of the biblical theologian and challenges other Christian theologians to always keep their theology Christ centered.