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In the chapters devoted to this theme, under the heading "The Security System," I thought McLaren was building a case for pacifism. That certainly seems to be the logic of his argument, as he quotes approvingly from Chris Hedges: "Wars that lose their mythic stature for the public, such as Korea or Vietnam, are doomed to failure, for war is exposed for what it is—organized murder." But then at the start of the concluding chapter in the section, he writes:

The last sentences of the previous chapter were not setting you up for a call to ideological pacifism. I agree with the New Vision group: we need to move to a new dialogue beyond the old just-war and pacifist positions. So I would rather sidestep these polarizations entirely and instead call adherents of both positions to a joint consideration of the addictive nature of war, an addiction we may already have but may be in denial about.

I have to admit that—immersed as I am now in a pile of books about the conflict with Japan in World War II and another stack about the Spanish Civil War—this talk about war as an "addiction" seems sophomoric, indeed painfully naïve and patronizing. Perhaps I am just in denial. But dialogue between just-war folk and pacifists? Yes, I'm all for that—and if this dialogue can take us further, wonderful.

Such dialogue, of course, has proceeded fitfully for many centuries. Neither the just-war tradition nor the pacifist tradition has been static. And so—on this point and across the board—the claim of McLaren's title, Everything Must Change, is quite misleading.

McLaren is particularly misleading when he's suggesting, as he does quite emphatically at times, that somehow the church went off the rails early on, and that only now are (some) Christians beginning to understand what Jesus was really saying. While McLaren occasionally adds nuances and qualifiers, this ahistorical account runs through the book. In this respect, his message is oddly reminiscent of the ahistorical narrative of church history that dominated the evangelical/fundamentalist churches of my youth. Between an idealized first-century church and the present moment, when the preacher was calling on you to make a decision for Christ, there loomed a great wasteland—all those centuries in which the church failed to heed the plain words of Scripture.

The reader of McLaren's book will discover that everything hasn't changed. Do we, as McLaren suggests, decide not to buy a cheaper shirt that has been made in a factory where the workers receive terribly low wages and instead pay more for a shirt that has been made in a factory where the workers are better compensated? Or—as a number of economist friends of mine would maintain—would McLaren's well-intended gesture, insofar as it had any effect beyond producing a sense of virtuous conduct, actually tend to undermine the fortunes of those poor workers?

Nothing in this book will help you answer that question with greater confidence than you had before you started reading. But this is not a counsel of despair, or an excuse for apathy. I share McLaren's wonder and delight at the power of new life in Christ, which should inform our thinking and our actions in every sphere. With God's help, there's plenty of work for us to do.

John Wilson, editor, Books & Culture.

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January 2008, Vol. 52, No. 1