A Liturgical-Historical Novel
Pilgrims on Strange Strands, by David Horsman (Vantage Press, 1979, 156 pp., $7.95), is reviewed by Thomas Howard, professor of English, Gordon College, Wenham, Massachusetts.
This book is as difficult to classify as are the works of Charles Williams. On the surface of things, it is a novel, as are Williams’s narratives. And it tells, or rather retells, a very good story, namely, the perennially fascinating and moving tale of Peter Abelard, the brilliant twelfth-century theologian in France who would be remembered for his dazzling argumentation alone, even if his story had not been gingered up by his affair with the lovely Heloise, and by his having been emasculated for this at the behest of Heloise’s uncle and guardian, Fulbert, canon of Notre Dame. The story is one of the great stories of passion in Western imagination, and ranks with the tales of Hero and Leander, Tristan and Isolde, and Lancelot and Guinevere, for sheer drama. The struggle of purity with concupiscence always touches close to the nerve.
That is the story told in this book, and it is told very well indeed. David Horsman is a writer in command of his English, which is a rarity most earnestly to be lauded in this era of terrible prose. But that is only the surface. To read this book is to be caught—swept would be more accurate—into the gigantic (the word is not too strong) world of the twelfth century in France. What era will match it? There was the building of the great cathedrals and abbeys, for a start; and the Crusades, before they had run out of steam; and the mighty intellectual debates that raged among theologians who, in those high and palmy times, were granted dignities like “doctor subtilis,” “doctor universalis,” and “doctor angelicus”; and then the roster of names: William of Champeaux, Roscelin, Anselm, Louis VI, the Abbé Suger (the “inventor” of Gothic architecture), Bernard of Clairvaux, Peter the Venerable, Arnold of Brescia, Hyacinthus Bobo (surely the best name in Western history), the Victorines, and of course Abelard himself. Who will challenge the immensity of a century like that?
David Horsman has attempted an altogether amazing thing. Under the species (he and his twelfth-century friends would grant the phrase) of a narrative, he has attempted to knit a fabric that will exhibit in its own pattern the manifold complexity of the pattern that is the twelfth century. For example, the seven chapters in the book follow the seven steps through the Mass; e.g., the Introitus, representative of Abelard’s entry into the intellectual world of Paris; the Lectio, representative of his studies and teaching; and so forth. But that is not all. The seven phases into which Horsman has divided Abelard’s experience follow not only the Mass, but also church architecture (narthex, nave, transept, etc.), the daily office (Matins and Lauds, through to Vespers and Compline), the seven sacraments, the “Seven Sevens” (the seven liberal arts, seven gifts of the Spirit, seven deadly sins, orders of ministry, virtues, etc.), with major and minor images corresponding to the Christian life (inceptio peregrinationis, that is, the beginning of pilgrimage, on through to the Viaticum, or “food for the journey” to heaven), and to the pilgrimage of Christendom itself (the First Crusade to Jerusalem, with images of agon, or combat; unicorns; and the purple, white, and golden roses). If it seems to require complicated syntax to speak of all of this, that is a fair index: the Middle Ages had as one of its specialties the arraying of everything according to gorgeous patterns, not only of numerology, but of every other conceivable way of arraying things, and not only that, but of finding correspondences running between every single category and every single other one. (And what Jew or Christian, with the doctrine of Creation at the root of his vision, does not suspect that, if we could see things clearly, we would see, not only this manifold splendor, but a pattern of glory ten thousand times more complex and dazzling in its sublime perfection and simplicity. The trouble with medieval vision is not that it is too complicated: it is too pallid. On this accounting, of course, modem vision does not even make the bottom of the chart.)
The pattern of the narrative also makes profound use of the rich literature of canticle, responsory, and antiphon from the period—the Magnificat anima mea and the Lucis creator optime, as well as the tremendous words of the Mass—Hanc igitur, and the other well-known phrases (Mr. Horsman translates it all for those whose Latin is not up to schedule).
The question, of course, is, how does it all fare as a story (one finds that the word “novel” will not do)? Who can stay afloat in all of this? The waters here are very deep and very remote from the shallow and domestic puddles in which we commonly sail the toy boats of our imaginations these days. Any reviewer, of course, has to try to subdue his private taste and say something that will have validity for all reasonably intelligent readers. For my own part, even after granting my own great love for the sublime vision the high Middle Ages achieved, I must say that this book is worthy of accolades. We may leave it to later criticism to find exact literary categories in which to place it. What we may say now is that we have a work that breaks out of the category “realistic fiction,” not in the direction of outer space, nor in the direction of myth or fantasy or fairy tale, but in a third direction, namely, the points at which any Christian suspects that the unconditioned touches our contingency—that is to say, the sacramental, which is of the very stuff of our human life here.
I would venture to guess that if Mr. Horsman follows through on the promise apparent in this book, we may have a writer like Charles Williams on our hands.
Postmodern Orthodoxy
Agenda for Theology, by Thomas C. Oden (Harper & Row, 1979, 176 pp., $7.95), is reviewed by Donald G. Bloesch, professor of theology, University of Dubuque Theological Seminary.
Thomas Oden, professor of theology at Drew University, reveals his disillusionment with modernistic Protestantism and his joy in the rediscovery of classical orthodoxy in this provocative book. He tells us how he tried to accommodate faith to the latest secular philosophy and psychology, and belatedly found the secular partner in dialogue was willing to explain his position but not willing to take seriously the option of the Christian faith.
He contends most current theology is under the spell of modernity, which means the historic faith of the church has been drastically compromised. By “modernity” he means the “overarching ideology of the modem period,” characterized by “autonomous individualism, secularization, naturalistic reductionism, and narcissistic hedonism,” and which “assumes that recent modes of knowing the truth are vastly superior to all other ways.” Oden’s critique of modernistic Christianity has affinities to the Hartford Declaration and the Chicago Call.
Oden does not propose a return to the older scholastic orthodoxy, but instead advocates a “postmodern orthodoxy,” which has been exposed to and even beguiled by the challenges of modernity. The “postmodern orthodox” is a person who has gone through modernity and found it lacking. He describes his position as “liberated orthodox,” free to dialogue with modernity but also free to reject its illusions. Postmodern orthodoxy is not a new faith but simply a contemporary reaffirmation and reappropriation of classical orthodoxy.
Like many who have found a home in Anglo-Catholicism, Oden calls for a return to the faith of the undivided church of the patristic era. By “classical Christianity” he means “the Christian consensus of the first millennium,” but he does not downgrade the wisdom of the later medieval church or of the Reformation. He traces the rise of modernistic Christianity to the eighteenth century, the Age of Enlightenment.
Oden sharply distinguishes his “postmodern orthodoxy” from fundamentalism. He says fundamentalists succumbed to the essential credo of historicism by basing the faith on factual historical evidence, and were interested more in the fact of the resurrection than in its doctrinal significance. Likewise it was the fact of the virgin birth, not its doctrinal meaning or confessional import, that they were intent on defending.
Oden also takes pains to distinguish his position from that of neo-orthodoxy. He contends that neo-orthodoxy, like neoliberalism, has been more deeply enmeshed in the spirit of modernity than in orthodoxy: it has too easily aligned the faith with messianic socialism and failed to give us a truly catholic doctrine of the church and the sacraments. The neoorthodox theologians saw themselves as radicals rather than conservatives and were intent on altering the tradition of the church rather than nurturing and sustaining it. Oden acknowledges that we can still learn much from Karl Barth, whom he classifies as antimodern more than modem, because “he never entered emphatically enough into the categories of modernity.” This statement is open to question since the early Barth was very much tantalized by the great figures of modernity including Harnack, Kant, and Schleiermacher.
Oden sees the canonical revisionism of Protestant New Testament scholars as a neo-Marcionism since it proposes an abridged canon dominated by Paul or portions of Paul, and sharply rejects the pastoral and general epistles. On the contrary, he deems these epistles particularly relevant for the church today because of their focus on the meaning of ordination, the continuity and stability of the tradition, the nature of the pastoral office, and the distinction between heterodoxy and orthodoxy.
This book is of special significance because it documents the conversion of a noted liberal theologian from modernism to historic orthodoxy. As an evangelical thoroughly exposed to leading thinkers of modernity throughout my education, I can identify with his nostalgia for the orthodoxy of undivided Christendom. At the same time, I wonder whether true orthodoxy can ever be associated with any one particular period in the history of the church. Is not the key to the recovery of orthodoxy a reappropriation of the gospel attested in Holy Scripture rather than a return to any period in the past? Oden seems to underplay the necessity and signal contribution of the Protestant Reformation. It is the church fathers, not the Reformers, whom he sees as best exemplifying the true faith. Moreover, under “Post-Reformation Classics” in his bibliography he lists several books by Friedrich Schleiermacher but none by Karl Barth, one by William Law but none by Sören Kierkegaard. Can we have a church that is truly apostolic and truly catholic unless it is at the same time truly Reformed—which was the impassioned concern of Luther, Calvin, and Barth? Oden calls for a church that stands in continuity with the fathers and doctors of the historic faith; but such a church, if it is to be authentically Reformed and evangelical, must also stand under Holy Scripture.
According to the author, the first millennium of the church has special normative value because it represented an ecumenical consensus. Yet it was precisely in this period that a works-righteousness loomed as very significant, that the great biblical doctrines of salvation by grace (sola gratia) and justification by faith alone (sola fide) were gravely compromised. It is possible to recover the symbols and credo of the apostolic tradition and still have a church devoid of the life-giving Spirit of renewal and revival. A church truly catholic, truly reformed, and truly evangelical will be willing to subject even the venerable sayings and confessions of the early church to the judgment of Holy Scripture, and only in this way will it promote a living orthodoxy. Do not we need to subject to critical scrutiny the philosophical presuppositions and accommodations of the church fathers, medieval doctors, and even the Reformers—as well as current theologians—if we are to have a faith that will enable the church to stand over against secular culture with a message that can renew and transform the culture? Oden nowhere speaks of the compromises evident in the philosophical theology of various church fathers, but it can be shown that they, too, were certainly not immune from the temptations of the modernity of their time (as surely Harnack recognized).
This is a book that needs to be studied carefully and critically. It reflects a movement among both evangelicals and liberals to reappropriate and recover the historic and apostolic roots of the faith. Such a movement should be applauded, but we must also insist that no cultural period of the past fully embodies true orthodoxy and that the truth of the faith must be given by God himself to every church in every new generation that seeks diligently to find his truth through searching the Scriptures, as well as by reflecting upon the church commentary on the Scriptures through the ages.
Who Are The Calvinists?
Calvin and English Calvinism, by R. T. Kendall (Oxford University Press, N.Y., 1980, 237 pp. $27.50), is reviewed by Carl F. H. Henry, lecturer at large, World Vision International, Arlington, Virginia.
The Oxford Theological Monographs series significantly includes the Oxford doctoral thesis of R. T. Kendall, the American scholar who now serves as minister of London’s Westminster Chapel. The thesis is a contribution to historical theology, and lifts Calvin’s teaching on election and Atonement to controversial new prominence. Tracing Calvin’s doctrine of faith, Kendall contends that the Westminster Confession and catechisms really represent a revision of the Reformer’s thought.
William Perkins, the English Calvinist who influentially expounded double predestination between the time of Calvin and the Westminster Assembly, has generally been viewed as reflecting the Reformer’s thought, or at least as logically extending it. Kendall challenges that view. He holds that Beza’s theology more than Calvin’s accounts for the double predestinationism of Perkins and, moreover, that English Calvinists, too, presumptively considered Perkins’s view to be Calvin’s.
Kendall discusses in considerable depth such theological concerns as the relation between saving faith and Christ’s Atonement and intercession in Calvin’s theology, the relation of faith to Christ’s death in Beza’s theology, Perkins’s apparent debt to Beza, the role of voluntarism in Perkins’s views, and the vacillation of Perkins’s followers on the subject of temporary faith.
Kendall’s view that “Westminster theology hardly deserves to be called Calvinistic” runs directly counter to the insistence of American Calvinists like B. B. Warfield that the theology of the Westminster Confession is in all respects Calvin’s. Kendall does not judge the theological adequacy of contrasted views; his concern, rather, is historical development and continuity. His claims should serve to stimulate an illuminating new era of Calvin studies.
Four Centuries Of Evangelism
The Native American Christian Community, edited by R. Pierce Beaver (MARC [919 Huntington Dr., Monrovia, CA 91016], 395 pp., $10.95), is reviewed by Gordon Fraser, chancellor, Indian Bible Institute, Flagstaff, Arizona.
In this valuable directory of Indian, Aleut, and Eskimo churches and the agencies related to them, Beaver has brought together a very helpful body of statistics and otherwise informative material. This book is a great aid to learning about and starting to evaluate the present status of evangelistic efforts among native Americans. The survey certainly is inclusive and objective, ranging from the liturgical to the charismatic, from the liberal to the evangelical. The claimed total community of 320,000 encompasses many opposing definitions of what it means to be counted as a Christian.
Users must recognize that in some cases the reported statistics for specific groups are very much on the high side. For instance, among the Pueblo tribes of New Mexico, the Roman Catholics have, since 1530, claimed the total population as being in their parishes. Yet at present at least a dozen Protestant congregations are to be found there. In addition, the Pueblos feel free to celebrate Catholic feast days as well as their traditional pagan holidays. Even within denominations there are problems. One home office claimed a total of 750 members in a certain tribe. Three missionaries working in that tribe each reported 250 members; the home office mistakenly totalled the three reports.
Indians are quite indifferent to party lines and will freely visit other Christian fellowships. At a camp meeting on the Navajo reservation Christians were freely participating in the event without regard to their supposed membership in other groups. Observing the scene, a white missionary, with obvious pique, asked, “What are my Indians doing here?”
Beaver regrets that “this directory is out-dated as soon as published” and asks that additional statistics be reported. He acknowledges that he is sure he will have missed some groups. Indeed, I found many minor omissions and a few major ones. I mention a few so that users, while appreciating the immense labor to compile this directory, will recognize its limitations.
In the Alaskan area there is no mention of the work of the Gospel Missionary Union with missionaries stationed at four locations. Also omitted are the Tschaddam churches in the Northwest. This work, now approaching its hundredth anniversary, is represented by some dozen churches in three states and British Columbia. The work was totally indigenous and evangelical and had a greater impact on the tribes in its heyday than that of the white-operated missions. Overlooked is the American Indian Crusade founded by the Claus family many years ago and now directed by Don Rovie, a Pima. Eight of its eleven fields are staffed by Indian Christian missonaries.
I am, of course, mystified by the failure to include the Southwestern School of Missions in Flagstaff, also known as the Indian Bible Institute. It is older and has a larger and wider range of participation than many schools that are mentioned. In 22 years of operation it has enrolled members of more than 30 tribes from Maine to Florida and from Alaska to California. Its present student body of 43 includes 12 different tribes taking three-or four-year standard Bible institute programs. Three tribes have members on the board.
Used properly, this directory will stimulate those already working among Indians and it will remind all that the Native American communities and individuals are still, after four centuries of continuous effort, largely unevangelized.
