Time For (Social) Action
Between Two Worlds: A Congressman’s Choice, by John B. Anderson (Zondervan, 1970, 163 pp., $3.95), and Congress and Conscience, edited by John B. Anderson (Lippincott, 1970, 192pp., $4.95), are reviewed by Wesley G. Pippert, United Press International, Washington, D.C.
In writing recently about America’s right-wing tradition, George Thayer pointed out that the characteristics of an extremist of the 1830s are not significantly different from those of a 1970 extremist. “Both,” he said, “tend to be fundamentalist in their religion [italics added], anti-elitist, moralistic, xenophobic, secure in the knowledge that Right is on their side, prone to a conspiracy theory of history, impatient with democratic procedures, and hostile to cleavage, ambivalence, and the clash of ideas.”
And so it is: in the eyes of many people, fundamentalists are right-wingers and vice versa. Altogether too often their view is accurate.
The danger in this view is subtle. It suggests that persons may be fundamentalist merely because they have a conservative streak running through their total approach to living that extends to their religious convictions. It also suggests that if a person is liberal and activist in his orientation to social issues, somehow his profession of fundamentalism is suspect.
There are signs, however, that evangelicals have begun to awaken to the excruciating needs of their neighborhood—not the world, for evangelicals have always embraced a world-view—but their neighborhoods. One of the most important of these is Representative John B. Anderson of Illinois, the National Association of Evangelicals’ Outstanding Layman of the Year in 1964 and, as chairman of the House GOP Conference, the third-ranking Republican in the House of Representatives.
Anderson is acknowledged among many persons in Washington to be one of the most intelligent members of the House and among its most gifted orators. It shows in his two books. Between Two Worlds, particularly, is a superb piece of work—laced with Scripture, and showing an enormous sensitivity to the needs of the minorities, the underprivileged, the alienated. In Worlds Anderson details—and dovetails—his commitment to Christ and his views about the pressing issues of the day. And he comes to grips with the imperative: that the person who has experienced personal salvation must be concerned with the broader problems of a nation and a world that Anderson sees in an increasingly pessimistic way.
Anderson starts out by telling of his conversion experience at the age of nine—“I have never been ashamed to recount that experience,” he writes—and he ends both books by talking about social ethics. From his boyhood in the Swedish Free Church in Rockford, Illinois, he recalls sermons against “modernism” as the great archenemy of the Church of Jesus Christ. Then he writes:
We can see in retrospect that many of the great problems which plague us today were already in evidence then, but our entire attention was diverted to battling those whom some fundamentalists believed were simply advance men for the anti-Christ because of the false doctrine which they espoused. We were reminded that even as Paul had to cleanse the church at Corinth of those who sought to promulgate error in their explanation of the Resurrection, and to warn the church at Colossae against Gnosticism, fundamentalists had to defend historic Christianity against the siege guns of “Modernism.” We were at that time so concerned with the preservation of the distinctive doctrines of our faith, that we failed to devise ways in which to exercise these doctrines in the modern world.
The way Anderson voted his first few years in Congress suited his conservative constituency perfectly. He voted against welfare programs and assistance to the cities. The Americans for Constitutional Action measured his conservatism with an 88 per cent rating. But slowly, things began to change his outlook—a Ford grant to visit Harlem, Watts, the Hough ghetto of Cleveland; the insights that come from reading one or two books a night; and perhaps most important, the radical changes the Holy Spirit can perform through the Scriptures. And when the open-housing bill—one of the most important pieces of civil-rights legislation of the 1960s—came to a head in Congress at the time of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., Anderson more than any other congressman provided the leadership and key votes for its passage.
Later he told a reporter:
The decision was very prayerfully made. A verse kept coming to me—a passage from 2 Corinthians 5 in the Phillips translation: “For if a man is in Christ he becomes a new person altogether.… All this is God’s doing for he has reconciled us to himself through Jesus Christ and he has made us agents of reconciliation. God was in Christ personally reconciling the world to himself … and has commissioned us with the message of reconciliation.” With the growing realization of the need for reconciliation between black and white in this country, I saw ever more clearly the need for Christians particularly to be agents of this reconciliation.
Anderson feels that the division between blacks and whites in this country is greater now than when the Kerner Commission report was published. He writes:
Christians once again have a special responsibility to lead in this effort. It is tragic but true that many of us are as guilty of the sin of racism as the most hardened unbelievers. Do we believe that all men are creatures of one blood? Do we accept the divine injunction of our Lord, that the second great commandment is “love thy neighbor as thyself”? Or do we in the next breath pray, “But Lord, let not my neighbor be black”? We sing that “Jesus loves the little children, red and yellow, black and white.” But do we somehow feel differently about the children once they have grown up?
We give generously to missionaries so they can take the Gospel to black Africa. But that is not the limit of our responsibility. We have to minister to the Afro-American in our midst. We cannot thrust that responsibility to the outer, remote circumference or our own personal experience. We cannot tell the missionary to go out and love the black man, the yellow man, the brown man of Africa and Asia, and then refuse ourselves to be put down next to our black neighbor and show the same love.
“Poverty and hunger,” Anderson says, “are not problems that we can shun if we would truly serve our Lord and our fellow-man.” He goes on to quote the starkly clear words of Christ in Matthew 25 in this regard.
Anderson says a new and vital evangelical social ethic must include (a) an integrated ethical system that “reunites personal responsibility with social responsibility, and yet remains true to the demands of the Gospel,” (b) a more positive outlook toward government, recognizing “that government is one of the fundamental orders of creation, and therefore deserves our respect as Christians every bit as much as marriage and the family, and (c) a more realistic view of politics that sees it as no more corrupt or corrupting than many other professions.
Congress and Conscience is a series of essays by congressmen about specific subjects. Among them is one on hunger in America by Senator George S. McGovern of South Dakota, who readily concedes that much of his sense of service came from his being reared in a deeply religious home with a Wesleyan Methodist minister father. Other contributors include Representatives Jim Wright of Texas, Charles E. Bennett of Florida, and Albert H. Quie of Minnesota, and Senator Barry M. Goldwater of Arizona.
Senator Mark O. Hatfield of Oregon wrote the foreward to Worlds. In it, he offered what may be a good summary of the book: “Some preach the gospel of social concern, others preach the Gospel of personal salvation. John Anderson’s words and life demonstrate clearly to those of us who will listen that Jesus Christ has the power and desire to redeem the whole man, that indeed the love of God must involve every aspect of our being.”
When Apologetics Hinders
Belief in God, by George I. Mavrodes (Random House, 1970, 117 pp., $1.95), and Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, by James F. Ross (Macmillan, 1969, 185 pp., $1.95), are reviewed by Ronald H. Nash, head, Department of Philosophy and Religion, Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green.
It would appear that reports of the demise of natural theology at the hands of David Hume and Immanuel Kant were premature. In two excellent little books, two highly competent American philosophers show there is still some life in the old girl. And yet the two take radically different approaches to the subject. Since Ross, head of the philosophy department at the University of Pennsylvania, is a Thomist, his positions are sometimes predictable. But not always. His book is a kind of Thomistic guide to where things now stand with respect to proofs for God’s existence, faith and reason, the problem of evil. I have my disagreements with Ross, to be sure, but in this age of radical theology, these differences don’t seem as important as they did a few years ago. Of special interest is Ross’s conclusion that all the recent debate over the meaningfulness of religious discourse and its relation to empirical verification has had largely negative results. He believes “that a new approach to the problem of religious discourse must be undertaken by way of a more careful application of the theory of knowledge to the beliefs of religious persons.” This, in part, is one of the tasks Mavrodes undertakes.
Mavrodes, an evangelical Protestant who teaches philosophy at the University of Michigan, has given us one of the most important studies in the philosophy of religion to be written in recent years. His work could justifiably have been subtitled “A Prolegomena to Any Future Philosophy of Religion.” His book suggests that many arguments in the philosophy of religion are fruitless because the protagonists have failed even to comprehend, let alone to agree on, more fundamental issues of the debate. How much value can there be to discussions about the knowledge of God, belief in God, and proofs for God until we know what it means to know, believe, and prove?
Consider for example the innocent-seeming question, “How do you know God exists?” This question can have different meanings that call for quite different answers. One meaning, which Mavrodes calls the biographical question, “is not about the content of the belief (it is evident that the friend believes) nor about the content of the belief (both agree that it is true), but about the reason for the belief in this particular case.” In another meaning of the question (called by Mavrodes, “The Challenge”), “How do you know God exists?” is not a genuine question at all. It is a throwing down of the gauntlet that says, in effect, “Convince me that God exists if you can.” The response to this kind of challenge must be evaluated in terms of its truth or falsity as well as its success in convincing the questioner.
Mavrodes goes on to examine the nature of proof with special attention to proofs for God’s existence. He thinks entirely too much significance has been attached to the notion of proving something. It is nonsense to hold that one cannot know something unless or until he has proven it. One can know many things without proving them. Mavrodes even shows how one can prove something without knowing it. And even if one has good reasons, should he therefore hesitate to believe simply because others are unwilling or unable to accept his arguments? “It would seem foolish,” Mavrodes argues, “for anyone else to construe another’s ignorance as a limit upon his own intellectual life.”
Arguments are not a necessary condition for knowledge. On the contrary, we must already have some knowledge in order for an argument to help us. Since there must be other ways of acquiring knowledge than through proofs, the question of proof is not crucial for theology. Some theological knowledge can be derived from direct experience (which includes revelation).
Should it prove impossible to prove the existence of God, nothing particularly significant follows. Mavrodes questions whether, given his analysis of proof, it is even worthwhile to prove God’s existence. He provides a logical technique that will permit any fifth grader to prove not only God’s existence but any true proposition. But what purpose would such a proof serve? Since such arguments do little more than satisfy the formal requirements of logic and truth, their only value is the entertainment they provide. It may be fun to spin out such arguments, but success or failure in this endeavor is hardly cause for great elation or disappointment.
Why do some arguments work and others fail? The success of a particular argument may be quite independent of the argument’s soundness. “Since a solution must satisfy two different sorts of requirements, those of psychological effectiveness in altering beliefs and those of epistemic propriety involving truth and logic, it may be open to criticism along either of these lines.”
Because of the more fundamental character of his argument, Mavrodes shows that many of the questions Ross attempts to answer need no reply. Take for example, the oft-given challenge that theologians do not know the origin, cause, purpose, or justification of evil. Ross attempts to find answers to these problems. Mavrodes simply notes that from the inability of theologians to answer these questions, “nothing of interest follows about evil itself nor about its cause, justification, or purpose.… What does follow, of course, are propositions about theologians … for example, that theologians do not know everything about their own specialty.”
Why is the problem of evil such a tough nut to crack? Mavrodes notes several reasons. For one thing, many philosophers of religion get sidetracked into dealing with questions about the origin or purpose of evil that, though they may be interesting, have no theological consequences. Furthermore, “the problem” of evil turns out to be not just one problem but a complex of many problems. And as should be obvious, the problem of evil is a person-oriented problem. “It is very unlikely that there is one solution that will be convincing to all. For people are too diverse in their evaluation of explanations, their ability to follow analysis, and in the sort of proofs which convince them. There may be many satisfactory solutions (for different people); it is not likely that any solution is the solution (for everyone). If any one solution works in a substantial number of cases, it is as good as can reasonably be expected; that it does not convince everyone is a minor defect indeed.”
Arguments and proofs are tools. As such, they are useful or useless only as means to something more important. Mavrodes deplores the tendency to look on proofs of God’s existence as a kind of intellectual exercise or game. It is foolish to quibble over epistemological tools (proofs) and ignore the more fundamental question of God. A good workman should, of course, pay attention to his tools. But he should not put them ahead of the work for which the tools exist. “In the end we must stop examining and discussing epistemic activities and we must begin to use them and to engage in them.” If all our reasoning and experience is ever to lead us to the truth, it will do so “only if we finally turn our faces outward, away from the reasoning and the experience itself, and toward the truth that we seek to grasp.” After all, what shall it profit a man if he prove the existence of God and lose his own soul?
Soapy Suspense
Oh! Sex Education!, by Mary Breasted (Praeger, 1970, 337 pp., $7.95), is reviewed by Lewis Penhall Bird, eastern regional director, Christian Medical Society, Havertown, Pennsylvania.
Already widely known as the home of Disneyland and the California Angels, Anaheim gained additional attention in the fall of 1968 when the family-life and sex-education programs in the Anaheim Union High School District came under bitter attack. Right-wing opponents, led by four parents (one man and three women) and two Anaheim newsmen, managed to halt the program by electing two anti-sex-education candidates to the school board. Two-thirds of this book chronicles the Anaheim episode as a microcosm of the nationwide furor, while the last third places the issue of sex education in the public schools in its larger context.
Mary Breasted, who was commissioned by the publisher to investigate this emotional controversy, is a graduate of the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism and has been a regular writer for the Village Voice. Her book reads like a combined soap opera and detective story. Using school-board transcripts plus recorded living-room interviews, she leads the reader through the labyrinth of charges and counter-charges, allegations and assumptions. Her documentary pursuit of the truth—from myth to fact—will be helpful for any educator embroiled in a similar controversy. Evangelical Christians will despair at much of the methodology and the theology of some of the conservative Christian “Anti’s.”
In what was considered two years ago to be the number-one sex education program in the United States, some 35,000 students from Anaheim’s junior and senior high schools were offered a course lasting 4½ weeks. The junior-high students covered physical changes during puberty while the older students discussed the facts of reproduction, pregnancy, birth, and family problems. Prior to the controversy, 90 per cent of the adults in the school district had indicated their approval of such a course. Only 1 per cent of the students brought parental notes to be excused. Yet once the Anaheim Anti’s began their opposition, they were able to turn the tide by electing two of their own when only 14 per cent of the eligible voters turned out for the school-board election. The program is presently tabled, awaiting further revision.
The final third of the book has interviews with Dr. Gordon V. Drake of Christian Crusade and Dr. Mary S. Calderone of SIECUS (the Sex Information and Education Council of the United States) as well as an analysis of various political and urban responses to sex education in the public schools. Interestingly, Miss Breasted felt drawn to Drake’s ready friendliness and “twinkly eyes” (though “he was a man who saw no harm in bending the truth or even altering it for his special purposes”). Mary Calderone, on the other hand, while making “a great deal more sense,” comes across as arrogant and austere. For the author, their essential difference was not that they departed from conventional morality (they didn’t) but rather that Drake used a traditional polemic laced with Bircher overkill while Dr. Calderone sought more polished and scientific arguments to argue for chastity and fidelity. Miss Breasted found that the debate seemed a bit antiquated, particularly in the face of other moral issues confronting youth (“they have other things to worry about, like the draft and the people who are ruining our water and our air”).
Of value to anyone involved with family-life education will be the careful documentation of sex-education myths, the sociological data on controlled studies of problems in this area, the analysis of basic pro and con arguments, and the biographical information on national figures involved in the controversy. (Probably a hasty publication deadline prevented a more careful preparation of the index; discussions on the effectiveness of sex-education programs, family goals, illegitimacy, venereal disease, pornography, and nudity escaped listing, as did several prominent names.) For documentation, analysis, and solid data, the book is most useful. Church educators neglect it at their peril, particularly if the problem of sex education touches their parish.
A Detailed Canvas
Worship and Theology in England, Volume I, From Cranmer to Hooker 1534–1603, by Horton Davies (Princeton, 1970, 482 pp., $15), is reviewed by G. W. Bromiley, professor of church history, Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, California.
The present work is the fourth in a notable series by Horton Davies on English worship and theology from the Reformation to the present day. The three volumes already available deal with the last three centuries, and the final one will be devoted to the seventeenth century.
The new volume is a comprehensive survey in which much attention is paid to theology, as is only proper. Roman Catholic, Puritan, and Separatist forms and styles of worship are presented as well as Anglican. Special chapters deal with such matters as art, architecture, and music. Preaching is not neglected, and there is an interesting concluding comparison of Roman Catholic, Anglican, and Puritan spirituality.
Although Davies paints a big canvas, he also has an eye for detail. The work is grounded in careful research, so that the conclusions follow from a mass of useful, interesting, and sometimes amusing information. The excellent bibliography, supported by full and well arranged indexes, gives a clue to the painstaking effort that has gone into the making of the book.
The author has also done well in giving a readable presentation. His style is scholarly, yet forceful. He has a gift for effective phrases. Light relief, as noted, comes from within the material itself. If there are lapses, and one or two favorite words are overworked, still the book in general stands in happy contrast to many modern writings with their poor grammar, ill-digested jargon, and general imprecision.
In view of the general excellence of the work, criticism might seem a little churlish, yet there are matters both general and detailed that invite comment. The theology, for instance, is very restricted, since only eucharistic theology is presented with any adequacy. But even liturgically other doctrines, such as election, baptism, or post-baptismal sin, have at least an equal claim to attention. In this respect promise outruns performance.
Furthermore, while one allows that the centuries cannot be artificially divided, Davies hastens on at points rather too quickly from the sixteenth to the seventeenth. This is very apparent in the comparison of Anglican and Puritan that begins on page 75: it is very well done, but hardly applies to most of even the Elizabethan age, when many Anglicans were Puritans and vice versa.
The treatment of Anglican worship is also disappointing. Quantitatively, what the author calls its “lion’s share” is only sixty pages compared to thirty-eight for the Roman Catholics and sixty-four for Puritans and Separatists together. Qualitatively it is no more than adequate, and Davies’s own background is a little over-obvious in his comparative evaluations. Incidentally, the Anglican chapter rehashes a good deal of what had been done already under eucharistic theology, and if other repetitions were eliminated some eighty pages (and three dollars?) might have been trimmed.
If space allowed, many detailed points might be questioned. The handling of Zwingli smacks of the second-hand, and the Kidd-Dix-Richardson group offers poor guidance rather too naïvely followed. The avowal that only two historians known to the author have seen in Cranmer high Calvin rather than low Zwingli is an odd one in the light of the references as well as the omissions in the bibliography. The statement that Cranmer desired a weekly eucharist and Zwingli settled for a quarterly is a muddled one, for it could just as well be reversed: Zwingli desired a weekly eucharist and Cranmer settled for a quarterly. The stress on nominalism is too heavy, especially as Davies faults Hooper (twice) for playing on the question at what word transubstantiation takes place (a nominalist problem). A dubious date is given for Ridley’s change in eucharistic thinking, and a slip has also crept into the dating of his treatise (p. 103, n. 107).
Nevertheless, these are minor blemishes on what is on balance a magnificent study. Whether for the wealth of information or the essential soundness of judgment, all who have an interest in the theme and period can certainly read the work with both pleasure and profit. The concluding volume in a very worthwhile series will be awaited with genuine anticipation.
Newly Published
Out of Concern for the Church, by John A. Olthuis et al. (Wedge, 1970, 125 pp., paperback, $2.50). Five young Calvinists call for a reformation of the Church that will make it much more influential in shaping the world. But rather than secularize the Church, they aim to make the world sacred, at least for the Christian. Disturbing, provocative, and, especially on specific proposals, perplexing. Are Christian political parties, newspapers, and labor unions the best way to achieve these goals? Is evangelism as important in their world view as it was in Paul’s?
Contemporary Old Testament Theologians, edited by Robert B. Laurin (Judson, 1970, 223 pp., $8.95). Each of seven Baptist seminary teachers has written on a scholar, such as Eichrodt, von Rad, Vriezen, and Jacob. Very good.
Student Power in World Evangelism, by David M. Howard (Inter-Varsity, 1970, 129 pp., paperback, $1.25). A lucid examination of the three perspectives of missions—biblical, historical, contemporary. The author shows that young people have always been and need to be intimately involved in global evangelism. If not, such efforts are doomed.
Please Help Me! Please Love Me!, by Walter Trobisch (Inter-Varsity, 1970, 64 pp., paperback, $.95). With sensitivity and understanding, the author helps his African correspondent recognize contraception as legitimate and not unbiblical. Excellent.
One Way to Change the World, by Leighton Ford (Harper & Row, 1970, 119 pp., $3.95). Essays stressing the need for Christian revolution.
The Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians, edited by Everett Ferguson (Sweet, 1970, 192 pp.). Latest addition to the “Living Word Commentary,” written by members of Churches of Christ.
The Theology of Post-Reformation Lutheranism: A Study of Theological Prolegomena, by Robert D. Preus (Concordia, 1970, 462 pp., $12.50). This major, scholarly, sympathetic study of seventeenth-century orthodox Lutherans—who have usually been passionately censored, to put it mildly—deserves careful reading by all serious students of the history of Protestantism.
The Creation of Life: A Cybernetic Approach to Evolution, by A. E. Wilder Smith (Shaw, 1970, 269 pp., $5.95). A University of Illinois pharmacology professor offers a substantial and very technical critique of certain aspects of biological theory.
Adult Education in the Church, edited by Roy B. Zuck and Gene A. Getz (Moody, 1970, 383 pp., $5.95). Twenty-eight contributors on such topics as “The Nature and Needs of Young Adults,” “Adults in Service Projects,” “Assisting Parents with Sex Education,” and “The Learning Process for Adults.” Very helpful.
Righteous Empire: The Protestant Experience in America, by Martin E. Marty (Dial, 1970, 295 pp., $8.95). Stresses trends rather than denominational details and interaction with culture as a whole rather than specifically religious concerns. Well written and factually accurate. Marty’s viewpoint, worth considering, will for some readers prove unsettling.
American and Catholic, by Robert Leckie (Doubleday, 1970, 388 pp., $7.95). A dramatic, personal narrative of the contributions Catholics have made to America since the days of the conquistadors.
Your Religion: Neurotic or Healthy?, by George Christian Anderson (Doubleday, 1970, 191 pp., $5.95). Those who read this to find out, won’t.
Was Jesus Married?, by William E. Phipps (Harper & Row, 1970, 239 pp., $5.95). Answering yes, the author presents a clearly argued but unconvincing case.
Christian Answers to Teenage Sex Questions, by S. Spencer and N. Brown (Hallus, 1970, 198 pp., $4.95). Effective reasoning on a touchy subject.
Encounter with Israel: A Challenge to Conscience (Association, 1970, 304 pp., $7.95). Another of the many recent books on Israel. This one is distinctive for its scope, objectivity, and unusual format.
In Defense of Martin Luther, by John Warwick Montgomery (Northwestern, 1970, 175 pp., $5). Seven periodical articles on Luther’s views on such topics as hermeneutics, science, and missions are here collected in revised form.
A New Song, by Pat Boone (Creation House, 1970, 192 pp., $4.95). Hollywood actor-singer Pat Boone tells of his conversion to Christ, subsequent backsliding, and recent return to the church (complete with charismatic experience). His story-telling is pleasingly bereft of the usual cliches, yet one is left with the unmistakable impression that he is indeed born again. Worth reading.
What Is Human?, by T. M. Kitwood (Inter-Varsity, 1970, 142 pp., paperback, $1.50). A book for non-Christians compares the humanist and existentialist views of man with that of divine revelation.
Put Your Arms Around the City, by James W. Angell (Revell, 1970, 188 pp., $4.95). Jesus wept over Jerusalem, longing to gather its inhabitants to him. This author asks the Church to do the same with America’s cities.
Wandering Wheels, by Jack Houston (Baker, 1970, 173 pp., $3.95). The story of the Christian cyclists who saw conversions occur from ocean to ocean as they wheeled.
Some of the above books will later be reviewed at greater length.
In The Journals
Students of biblical archaeology will welcome the appearance of two fine pieces that seek to reopen the fundamental question of the locations of Bethel and its neighbor, Ai. On the correct identification of Bethel hinge the location of many other southern Palestinian sites and some of the more disputed matters of Old Testament chronology. The Summer, 1970, issue of The Seminary Review (Box 8, Cincinnati, Ohio 45204) is devoted to “Biblical and Archaeological Data on Ai Reappraised” by W. Winter, a professor at Cincinnati Bible Seminary. He concludes that el Tell must continue to be considered as the most likely site of biblical Ai. The opposite view is advanced by David Livingston in Westminster Theological Journal, November, 1970, pp. 20–44 (single copy $2.50; Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, Pa. 19118). He seeks to demonstrate that both Bethel and Ai have long been mislocated.
