The acronym “F.E.E.T.” looks like something out of James Bond, but it has nothing to do with espionage—unless you consider the theological climate in Europe to have become so radical that evangelicals by definition constitute an infiltration movement. F.E.E.T. stands for the Fellowship of European Evangelical Theologians, a group “founded to promote evangelical theology in Europe in a spirit of loyalty to the Bible.” Full membership is open to “those engaged in theological research or who are teaching at a [European] university or college” and to “pastors and laity who have given evidence of serious theological concerns by their literary production”; associate membership is “open to non-European theologians working temporarily in Europe.” All members must subscribe to the doctrinal basis of the Fellowship, which, much like the Apostles’ Creed, represents what C.S. Lewis termed “mere Christianity”: the trinitarian work of God in creation, redemption, and sanctification. As to biblical authority, the fellowship is committed to “the divine inspiration of holy scripture and its consequent entire trustworthiness and supreme authority in all matters of faith and conduct.”

During the week of August 21–25, the second European Conference of F.E.E.T. took place at the beautiful, wooded “New Life Center” (Neues Leben Zentrum), established five years ago by dynamic German evangelist Anton Schulte at Altenkirchen, between Cologne and Frankfurt am Main. Present were close to sixty leading European evangelical theologians from denominational backgrounds as diverse as Lutheran and Pentecostal and from countries as widely separated geographically and ideologically as Norway, Yugoslavia, and East Germany. The official languages of the conference were English, French, and German, and through the simultaneous translations of such crack linguists as Frederick Burklin from German Bible Institute of Greater Europe Mission (Seeheim) each participant could hear all papers and discussions in these three tongues. For organizing such aspects of the conference with strategic care, credit was due especially to Neil Britton, formerly of Aiglon College, Switzerland, who served as conference coordinator.

Of the four plenary papers, two were of a fairly limited exegetical scope, and two ranged into wider theological and philosophical territory. The more strictly focused essays were both delivered by theologians from Scotland—thus reinforcing the (attractive) stereotype of meticulous, textual Scottish theological scholarship. Howard Marshall of Aberdeen analyzed “Dialogue With the Non-Christian World in the New Testament,” concluding—over against the “dialog” school of contemporary liberal churchmen—that in the New Testament “the traditional picture of a church communicating and proclaiming the faith once-for-all delivered to the saints is a well-founded one. There is not the slightest suggestion that the church and the world conversed as equal partners in the search for truth.” David F. Wright of Edinburgh performed a similar analysis of patristic writers, with special attention to Justin Martyr, and arrived at much the same conclusion: “Justin was no apologetic trimmer, no partner in a dialogue of give-and-take.… For Christianity’s contemporary dialogue with other creeds and ideologies, Justin’s guidelines point the way to an evaluation of their beliefs which may be neither wholly negative (for the Logos has ever sown truth among all races) nor uncritically positive (for man’s grasp of the teaching of the Logos is at best fragmentary and distorted). Above all, Justin shows us how to retain the Christological focus in such dialogue.”

Jan Veenhof of Amsterdam and Klaus Haacker of the Kirchliche Hochschule at Wuppertal-Barmen endeavored to analyze the concept of truth in systematics and biblical theology respectively; their approaches and results were much the same, and elicited parallel reactions from a good number of the conference participants. Both essayists made much of the fact that the Hebrew words for “truth” and “faith” have a common root. For Veenhof this offered the opportunity to criticize the “orthodox Protestant theology of post-Reformation times,” which allegedly hyperobjectified truth along Greek lines, instead of recognizing that “when an Israelite qualifies a person or thing as true, this qualification does not refer to conformity to the actual idea but to the realization of the expectation that one can cultivate on the basis of the respective relationship.” Although appreciating Veenhof’s related criticism of Tillich’s correlation principle, many participants saw his discomfort with truth-as-correspondence as potentially harmful to biblical authority and his picture of classical Protestant orthodoxy as an imprecise straw man (contrast the writings of Robert Preus).

Haacker, in his more nuanced paper, admitted that the “Greek” or “formal” concept of truth appears in the Bible, especially in forensic or courtroom imagery, but argued that this is a minor theme. After all, Rahab the harlot served Israel by lying and was rewarded for it; God sends a lying spirit into King Ahab’s court prophets; and so forth. Much of this had uncomfortable parallels with James Pike’s existential and situational position in Doing the Truth. To be sure, Haacker’s basic argument was that “whereas in our philosophical tradition the question of truth is related to the valuation of statements or knowledge, and thus only affects a limited area of human existence, the biblical terms that we translate with the word ‘truth’ are comprehensive norms for the whole of human behavior and being, right into the deepest levels of the personality.” But could not this excellent point have been made without invidious comparisons of formal truth with personal truth? Why must both-and be turned into either-or?

Among the workshop essays were a superlative plea, by Yugoslavia’s foremost young evangelical theologian Peter Kuzmic, for a mature and informed evangelical dialogue—without compromise—with Marxism; a keen argument by Hans Kvalbein of Oslo that primitive Christianity did not assimilate a hellenistic culture but provided that society with an eschatological witness to revelation; an epistemologically ambiguous but nonetheless stimulating “dialogue in and with philosophy” by L’Abri staff member Udo Middelmann; and valuable insights into dialogue with Eastern religions (by Bruce Nicholls of New Delhi) and the dialogual task facing the theology of missions (by Jacques Blocher of the Institut Biblique at Nogent-sur-Marne, France). A common subject of dinner table conversation was the supposed brain-drain resulting from the recent immigration of European evangelical scholars to the western hemisphere (James Packer, Klaus Bockmühl, both to Regent College, Vancouver, for example). But the F.E.E.T. Conference was itself the best evidence that European evangelical theology need not fear the future.

John Warwick Montgomery is professor at large, Melodyland Christian Center, Anaheim, California.

Last month 68,000 people packed the Stade du 20 mai in Kinshasha, the biggest stadium in Zaire, to celebrate the centenary of the arrival of Protestant missions. The crowd showed the infectious enthusiasm that has helped make the 6.5 million Protestants in Zaire the largest French-speaking Protestant community in the world.

Itofo Bokambanza Bokeleale, president of the Church of Christ in Zaire (CCZ), which sponsored the rally, applauded the early missionary effort. The record is one of the more remarkable growth stories in African church history. When the first missionary, Henry Craven, landed in Zaire in 1878, there were no Christians. He established a mission at Pala Bala, near the modern port city of Matadi and soon was joined by other British missionaries from his own Livingstone Inland Mission and from the Baptist Missionary Society.

The British missionaries, wanting to quickly establish stations across Africa and halt the southward expansion of Islam, penetrated the interior along the course of the Zaire (Congo) River. Two Jamaicans were sent to Zaire by the American Baptist Foreign Missionary Society in 1884—the first American-sponsored missionaries.

Development of the church was constant, though slow and costly. In some outlying areas, buried missionaries outnumbered the living. Protestant work doubled during the two decades between the wars (1919–1939). The next big influx followed World War II and raised the missionary force to more than 1,000. The church grew accordingly in Zaire, until today the Protestant community includes one-fourth of the 25 million population.

Local congregations belong to formerly independent denominations that were merged by government decree to form the CCZ, the only recognized Protestant body. Denominational identity was maintained, though denominations are now called communities. The 11,220 parishes are served by about 2,500 ordained and an equal number of unordained ministers. The CCZ also operates 2,830 primary schools and 6,092 secondary schools, which have a total attendance of 1 million students. The other major institutional work of the CCZ is medical. Its sixty-three hospitals around the country form the hub for maternity clinics, dispensaries, leprosariums, sanitoriums, and health centers.

Shoddy Power Politics

Bokeleale heads this religious conglomerate. Dressed for the centennial celebration in a long, white robe capped by a cardinal-type cape, addressed as monseigneur, and wearing a large crucifix, he could have been a Roman Catholic prelate instead of a Protestant minister. Bokeleale’s ecclesiastical garb and title symbolize a growing controversy between the CCZ president and many of the fifty-three member communities. In 1975, Bokeleale suggested to the CCZ national synod that regional presidents be elected to the position of bishop and that each community follow suit for its own leaders.

Bokeleale’s own community, the Disciples of Christ in Zaire (DCZ), took that step the following year. Replacing its congregational style of government with an episcopal one, the DCZ made its general secretary a bishop and conferred the title of honorary bishop on Bokeleale. Bishop Harms of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Germany performed the consecration ceremony.

Some leading Protestants, both inside and outside the CCZ administration, strongly objected to what they saw as an attempt by Bokeleale to change the fundamental government of the church. Four pastors published a 150-page document entitled, “Is Christ Still the Head of the Protestant Church in Zaire?” The four ministers described Bokeleale’s moves as “an attempt to convert the entire Protestant community of the CCZ to an episcopal church without consultation with or consent by its members.”

Opposing Bokeleale has its problems. One of the four pastors who wrote the 150-page document was the CCZ vice-president; he is no longer in Zaire and no longer an official of the CCZ. Another of the pastors, from the influential French-language International Parish of Kalina, was threatened by Bokeleale with dismissal from his church. The director of the Bible Society of Zaire openly criticized Bokeleale and lost his job.

The issue these men and others raised is neither new nor insignificant. It is, in their words, “unity in diversity,” or the right of autonomous CCZ communities to maintain their own essential character and autonomy without interference or pressure to conform to a contrary form of government set by the CCZ national leadership. Their concern differs little from that which motivated others in 1971 to protest on the basis of religious liberty the formation of the CCZ (see April 14, 1972, issue, page 4; November 24, 1972, issue, page 9). In both instances, people opposed bringing the autonomous communities under a strong, centralized authority.

Even the Disciples of Christ Community is having second thoughts. During their annual general assembly in July, members rescinded their action of 1976 regarding bishops and the episcopacy. They returned to the congregational concept of church government, with a general secretary as administrator. Despite its internal power struggle, the CCZ still provides for evangelism, development, education, and women’s ministries to its member communities.

Political Shambles

Zaire is going through one of its most difficult periods since 1960. David Lamb, in the International Herald Tribune, summarizes the current state of the republic: “The economy President Mobutu nationalized is being denationalized. The authenticity campaign has been largely abandoned. The corruption that he promised to end continues unchecked, with Mobutu himself the biggest offender. The army that he pledged to reorganize remains only a mob with guns that prey on the public. The agricultural sector that he vowed to revise still is struggling along at a plodding pace.”

Part of the agricultural problem stems from an unusually severe drought in the rain forests of the Lower Zaire Province, the fertile area that feeds the Kinshasa population. Instead of the normal seventy inches of rainfall, last year the region had only nine inches. Some districts have not had rain for nineteen months.

The thousands of Angolan war refugees who have fled to drought-stricken Lower Zaire compound the problem. Thousands more are homeless and starving in Shaba Province following civil war there in two successive years. Nearly a million refugees are living in Zaire.

Such Christian relief agencies as World Vision International and Church World Service are funneling millions of dollars in relief aid to the war refugees and drought victims through local churches and mission stations within the distressed areas. Secular organizations, including the International Relief Commission, coordinate their efforts with the Protestant and Catholic churches. The Zaire Protestant Relief Agency of the CCZ acts as a clearinghouse for this aid.

The CCZ and its member communities had been central to education programs in Zaire since the beginning of missions and modern civilization in the country. When the government decided in 1975 to nationalize the educational structure, between 90 and 95 per cent of the schools were still administered by Catholics and Protestants.

Three disastrous years of public education followed. The entire system became morally and financially bankrupt. In some instances, teachers exacted sexual favors from female students in exchange for passing grades, and funds for salaries and administrative expenses disappeared en route to the schools. Finally, in 1978, the government admitted shortcomings in the schools and returned the administration back to the church—a massive task involving 3 million students, 80,000 teachers, and finances that since 1965 have averaged about 20 per cent of the total national budget (see January 7, 1977, issue, page 43).

An unexpected result of the school nationalization was a spiritual awakening among the students. “After the abolition of the confessional youth movements and religion courses in schools, a remarkable spontaneous movement arose among some young people,” noted the CCZ centenary special, It’s a Miracle. “Having learned the habit of Bible reading with the aid of Scripture Union material, they themselves created in their respective parishes Bible study groups, which quickly attracted the attention of a good number of their fellows.”

The Scripture Union directors in Zaire had experienced problems in getting young people out to their summer camps. Some programs attracted only a dozen youths. But once religion was no longer a curricular activity, the camps began to fill. Leaders are now forced to limit registration in some camps, as attendance has climbed to above two hundred.

Some Scripture Union students formed a group, “Chain of Integrity,” during the period of nationalized education. The students, recognizing that Christians must combat corruption with honesty, met to encourage each other in resisting temptation. The movement has spread to adult Christians in business and professional occupations.

Spiritual awakening is not limited to the young. A new generation of evangelism-minded British Baptist missionaries is moving into areas along the Zaire River to revive once-active churches. A tent evangelist in western Zaire near Bomba followed relief trucks into refugee camps, and now over 1,000 Angolan converts are being discipled. Three years ago a congregation began in Kinshasa with about thirty adults; now more than 400 believers attend each Sunday, and they are building a church to accommodate 1,000.

The Centennial celebrants who jammed into Stade du 20 mai had reason to cheer. Neither power politics in the CCZ hierarchy or Zairian economic and political shambles stopped church growth. The church had a good first century, and the second promises to be even better.

ROBERT L. NIKLAUS

Terrorist-Shy Irish Church Rebuffs Wcc

The Presbyterian Church in Ireland suspended its membership within the World Council of Churches (WCC) last month. The reason: a protest against the controversial Program to Combat Racism of the WCC, particularly its grant last summer to the Patriotic Front of Zimbabwe (Rhodesia).

The action was taken during a special session of the General Assembly of the church and carried by a vote of 561 to 393. More than half of the presbyteries had requested the special meeting.

Suspension does not mean complete withdrawal of membership from the WCC. Instead, the Presbyterian Church of Ireland will cease its participation in the affairs of the WCC, except for certain Christian education and missions programs. (Of the 575 congregations, 475 are in Northern Ireland, where members make up about 20 per cent of the population.)

The Presbyterian Church in Ireland has consistently opposed antiracism grants and has refused to contribute funds to the Program to Combat Racism. The church will continue to discuss the antiracism grants with the WCC. An Irish delegation planned to meet this month in London with WCC officials, a day after Salvation Army leaders were to discuss their self-imposed suspension for the same reason from the WCC.

Complete withdrawal by the Irish church from the WCC would require the vote of two successive general assemblies of the Irish Presbyterians, says A. J. Weir, clerk of the general assembly. The next regular meeting won’t take place until June.

At the recent special session of the general assembly, the church reaffirmed its stand against racism. It also recognized the political, economic, and ethical pluralism that exists within the WCC.

The Presbyterian Church in Ireland, which feels it has no small experience in dealing with terrorists, from the beginning has charged the WCC with making grants to “anti-racist” organizations without making provision for accountability on how the money is spent. The church fears that the WCC is identifying more with conflict and terrorism than with sufferers of injustice.

A statement made recently by the Inter-Church Relations Board of the Irish Church points out that “grants made by well-intentioned donors to paramilitary or guerrilla groups, or to their supporting organizations, do not end simply with humanitarian aid, even when so used, but strengthen generally the power of the particular group or individual administering them.…”

The statement continued, “It would be as wrong and offensive to entrust ecumenical church grants, however earmarked, to the organization of Ian Smith and his colleagues as it is to give to the Patriotic Front in their violent confrontation.”

It is expected that the antiracism grants will be high on the agenda when the WCC Central Committee gathers next January in Jamaica.

DECOURCY H. RAYNER

Misery Relievers Also Love Company

Although their home constituencies differ, evangelical relief agencies aiding flood victims in North India or boat people in Southeast Asian waters often end up working with the same government officials and church groups for the same purposes.

Last month, representatives of ten relief and development agencies formed an umbrella organization that will provide a better communication among themselves and the groups they represent.

The initial members of the Association of Evangelical Relief and Development Organizations (AERDO) are all based in the United States and Canada.¹They are Compassion International, Compassion/Canada, Development Assistance Services, Food for the Hungry, Food for the Hungry/Canada, Institute for International Development. Inc., MAP International, World Concern, World Relief NAE, and World Vision International. However, the group is holding charter membership open for a year and is soliciting the membership of sister organizations overseas. AERDO offices will be established in Seattle, Washington.

AERDO will not be involved in relief funding. Its thrust instead will be exchange of information, setting of standards, and coordinating programs. It aims to be to relief and development mission agencies what the Evangelical Foreign Missions Association (EFMA) and the Interdenominational Foreign Mission Association (IFMA) are to evangelism and church-planting mission agencies. AERDO officials also seek a liason role between their organization and the EFMA and IFMA on the one hand, and national church groups on the other.

In addition, says AERDO president Arthur Beals of World Concern, “We wish to provide information about development that will enable Christians to understand its relationship to the other tasks we have in implementing the Great Commission.”

No sooner was AERDO formed than it spawned another group: the Consortium of Evangelical Relief and Development Organizations (CERDO), composed of several AERDO members. CERDO is designed for joint projects, for technical support, and as a conduit for governmental relief and development funds not available to individual church agencies. Its office will be in Washington, D.C. (CERDO has no creedal stipulations of its own, but limits participation to members of AERDO, who must subscribe to the National Association of Evangelicals statement of faith.)

President John Robinson of MAP International says CERDO will seek funding where a consortium makes better sense than for several smaller agencies to work alone—reducing red tape and funneling government funds to projects proposed and approved by its member agencies. He cautions that consortium members must be agencies that are viable apart from the partial government funding.

Spain Cuts Its Ties To Church—Almost

In a popular referendum early this month, voters in Spain were expected to ratify a new constitution that had been overwhelmingly approved a month earlier by the Spanish Parliament. Since all of the leading parties favored the new constitution, its approval was considered nearly certain.

Under the new parliamentary monarchy Spain would no longer have an official religion—ending 500 years of church-and-state union, at least in theory.

The new constitution would open the door to acceptance of a new Law of Religious Liberty, which has already been worked out by representatives of the various religious groups and the Spanish government. Included in the law is an interpretation of Article 16 of the constitution, which concerns religious freedom.

Spanish Protestants have already expressed disagreement with the new constitution, particularly to sections where the politics of consensus led to a backtracking from the pointed declaration in an early draft that the Spanish state was not “confessional.” Article 16 states that there is to be no official religion. But a sentence that was inserted after discreet lobbying by the bishops of the eighty-member Episcopal Conference (Roman Catholic), raises serious doubts. The sentence says, “The public authorities will keep in mind the religious beliefs of the Spanish society and will maintain … cooperation with the Catholic Church and the other confessions.” Protestants fear that mention of the Catholic church by name in reality gives it special considerations denied the others.

Among the notable changes, the new Constitution would end discrimination in burial places and end restrictions in the establishment of new churches. Also, the Constitution would establish legal rights in marriages and in the religious education of children, and the freedom to change one’s religious beliefs. The 1953 Concordat between the Vatican and the Franco regime that proclaimed Catholicism the state religion is being revised to bring it into line with the new Constitution.

A major problem yet to be resolved is separation of church and state finances. The Roman Catholic Church has received some $85 million annually from the Spanish government to pay its clergy and maintain its extensive holdings. The Spanish government, on the other hand, has relied heavily on church schools and teachers for the education of children.

A new agreement, still being drafted, is likely to prevail. It places a “religious” tax upon citizens, which is to be paid along with the income tax. Each person would be able to designate the religious group he wants to receive his tax, with the Spanish government keeping the tax of those who fail to express a preference. Protestant churches oppose taxation, maintaining that local congregations are responsible for financing their own activities.

In whatever manner the deliberately vague passages of the Constitution are worked out, Spain has decisively shed its image as the most Catholic country in Western Europe. It was already considerably less Catholic than its reputation. Perhaps now that will be official.

DALE G. VOUGHT

World Scene

Pope John Paul II received rebel Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre in private audience last month. The French prelate, who is under church suspension because he rejects the reforms of Vatican II and insists that mass be said only in Latin, requested the meeting. Vatican sources believe Lefebvre may be seeking reconciliation.

The Presbyterian Church of South Africa is unhappy about World Council of Churches support for the Rhodesian Patriotic Front. But instead of terminating membership in the WCC, the denominational assembly decided to divert its membership fees to relief efforts directed toward “WCC victims” in the Rhodesian conflict.

Who is Jim Jones—the social-spiritual cult leader of the People’s Temple whose 900 followers in Guyana committed murder-suicide last month?CHRISTIANITY TODAYstudies the sequence of events leading to that tragic death orgy. Correspondent Paul Scotchmer, based in San Francisco, interviewed former People’s Temple members there, while senior editor Edward Plowman assisted by investigating Jones’s Indiana origins.

Perhaps the mysterious power of fallen cult leader Jim Jones is explained best by a conversation more than thirteen years ago inside the home of cult defector Ross Case.

Case, then an associate pastor of the People’s Temple in Indianapolis, had just moved to Ukiah, California. Case thought Ukiah would be the safest place during the imminent nuclear holocaust predicated by his good friend Jones.

People’s Temple member Archie Ijames was visiting Case in his new California home one night in February, 1965. And Case didn’t like what Ijames had to say.

Jones had issued an ultimatum to Ijames and another Temple associate: Choose me or Jesus. Jones had said: “You go out and preach Jim Jones, and I’ll back it up with miracles.”

Ijames chose to follow Jones. He told Case, “I felt like I had to do it, even if I fell on my face.” Ijames told Case that he had decided to “submit my mind completely” to Jim Jones.

Jones followed Case to California (originally a suggestion by Case). But after his discussion with Ijames, Case decided not to follow Jones. He broke off from the Temple, and for that action, Jones would later ridicule and defame Case.

Pro And Con On The Charismatic Movement

What About Continuing Revelation and Miracles in the Presbyterian Church Today?, by Robert L. Reymond (Presbyterian and Reformed, 1977, 64 pp., $1.95 pb), The Spirit Within You, by J. Terry Young (Broadman, 1977, 192 pp., $4.95 pb), The Spirit of God, by Thomas Hopko (Morehouse Barlow, 1976, 132 pp., $3.50 pb), Essays on Renewal, by Leon Joseph Suenens (Servant Books, 1977, 131 pp., $2.95 pb), Experiencing the Holy Spirit, by Jim McNair (Bethany Fellowship, 1977, 171 pp., $3.50), and Fire in the Fireplace: Contemporary Charismatic Renewal, by Charles E. Hummel (Inter-Varsity, 1978, 275 pp., $4.95 pb), are reviewed by Erling Jorstad, professor of history and American studies, St. Olaf College, Northfield, Minnesota.

Whatever else critics or friends of the neo-Pentecostal (or charismatic) renewal claim for it, none can deny that it has shattered long-nourished stereotypes, produced much excellent scholarship (along with much fluff) on pneumatology, and brought together in worship, and in debate, Christians who had rarely before spoken to each other. The movement today has a momentum all its own; like an escalator, it has people getting on and getting off as it keeps moving.

These generalizations are wondrously illuminated by a comparative study of these recent books. Three continents, five communities of faith, administrators, pastors, and professors all are represented. Two are critics, two are outside observers, two are friends—a nice mix.

First, the critics. Reymond of Covenant Theological Seminary cites the Westminster Confession of Faith and also draws on Kuyper, Warfield, and Vos to support his contention that charismatics must not be allowed to hold the office of deacon or elder in the Presbyterian church. He argues from an exegesis of First Corinthians 14 that the “sign gifts” are no longer present today. Further, true worship excludes “non-rational elements” (meaning tongues and prophecies). To him, simply because some neo-Pentecostalists claim new revelations and charismatic gifts “in no way establishes the legitimacy of either after the apostolic age.” Citing Warfield, he argues that there is little evidence for miracle-working in the post-Apostolic age; the miracle workers after then came from without—“a heathen world” (p. 48). Hence, when church officials apply Westminster standards, they must exclude those prophecying or speaking in tongues from these positions.

The other critic, J. Terry Young of New Orleans Baptist Seminary, delivers both a blistering attack on the teaching of the baptism in the Holy Spirit and the attendant gifts, and restates what “fullness of life in the Holy Spirit” means in light of Scripture and church teaching. He denies the validity of any second baptism; he states “every believer has the Holy Spirit dwelling within him” and denies the need for any “second crisis-type experience” to know the fruits and gifts of the Holy Spirit.

The last portion of the book summarizes the person and work of the Holy Spirit. You know that the Spirit dwells within through the “watermarks” of vision, understanding, love, and fellowship; no signs replace these permanent evidences of the indwelling Spirit. Critics of neo-Pentecostalism will find their convictions strongly supported in this work. Friends of the movement have a handy summary of why many Christians, committed to scriptural evidence, resist their cause.

The next two books are far less polemical, yet in their way also suggest some of the theological distance the movement has traveled. Hopko of St. Vladimer’s Seminary encapsulates Eastern Orthodox teachings on the Holy Spirit. The study is more devotional and pastoral than analytic, using Scripture, hymns, teachings of the church fathers, and liturgies. Touching only briefly on neo-Pentecostalism, Hopko states that the Corinthian gifts are given so that “the fruit of the Spirit can grow in human life.” The gifts are seeds for an abundant life, not ends in themselves. The major portion of the book is an exposition of Orthodox pneumatology, a fascinating counterpoint to much of Western teaching.

The book by Suenens, who is probably the leading Catholic bishop involved in charismatic renewal, is a collection of ten of his essays written since 1970. They were issued to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination. Only two essays concern themselves with neo-Pentecostalism; the author calls for a reunion of “charismatic” and “social” Christians (his terms). He argues that no permanent polarizations must necessarily follow from the differences today. Other essays contain excellent pastoral advice on fidelity and sexuality; some, such as those on the Vatican Council and on Mary, are for Catholic readers.

In another realm altogether is the book by McNair, a New Zealand Baptist evangelist. He presents a primer for those newly committed to or about to join the renewal movement and who are fearful of the criticisms that their new life is too emotional and unscriptural. The author seeks not to persuade the critics but to support the wavering and the worried. He has no doubts that the baptism in the Holy Spirit is “a full biblical experience.” Such an experience is “the pentecostal reality portrayed in the Bible.”

McNair accepts the classic Pentecostal teachings of growth toward Christlikeness. Whatever term you give to the second baptism, he states, “the gift of tongues is shown to be a basic part of the Christian gospel and Christian life, part of God’s good news for his people.” Finally, “Whatever else is said about the other gifts, this remains certain—tongues and prophecy are intended for every believer.”

The final two chapters draw a roadmap for the journey toward an authentic understanding of baptism in the Holy Spirit. The author’s advice is forceful, direct, and assuring. In sum, this work is for those who want to believe the neo-Pentecostal commitment and need a vigorous verbal recharging of the spiritual battery.

No reader should be surprised at the vastly different reactions toward the charismatic movement. However, continued polarization is not the only alternative. We have in the historical and analytic book by Hummel a fresh and attractive case for moderation. The work should be carefully studied by inquiring persons along every point on the spectrum.

Several features stand out. The author, director of faculty ministries for Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, has done his homework. He has utilized the most recent and responsible scholarship available: Dunn on First Corinthians, McDonnell on tongues, Culpepper on history, among others. Next, he acknowledges that the scriptural record is anything but perfectly clear on the meaning of the sign gifts. He thus avoids the old “fallacy of the undivided middle,” which we learned about in college courses in logic. Finally, Hummel seeks to gently persuade the reader to avoid the pitfalls of the sour nay-sayers or the overheated cheerleaders.

Hummel himself is sympathetic toward the neo-Pentecostal movement, but keeps the evidence rather than his personal preference in front of the reader. His work is divided into four parts: history, Luke and Acts, Paul and Corinthians, and current issues. After briefly reviewing the history of the movement in Part One, and fully discussing Luke’s teachings on the Holy Spirit in Part Two, he moves to the center of the argument in his Pauline exegesis. “Paul does not declare that tongues was causing the greatest difficulty because the Christians prized this gift above the other charisms. His severest criticism occurs in the first eleven chapters and is aimed at the party spirit, divisions, sexual immorality, lawsuits, and disorder at the Lord’s Supper. The charism of tongues appears to be less of a problem to Paul than it is to modern interpreters who call it overvalued and ostentatious” (p. 158). That tongues is a genuine gift is clear; that it is the centerpiece of Paul’s teaching is a claim not supported by the record.

How does Hummel resolve the differences between the opposing camps? This review cannot do justice to his careful study, but two passages show his perspective. He states that the phrase “baptism in the Spirit” does not occur as such in the New Testament. But the phrase “baptize with (in) the Spirit” does occur seven times. In each case, Hummel shows, the meaning is slightly different; or at least the reader must respect the possibility of more than one interpretation. The author goes on to develop what those interpretations could be. Paul uses the phrase about spirit baptism as “a once and for all action in the Spirit at conversion incorporating the individual into the body of Christ.” Luke, however, uses it to describe “the enduement with power for effective witness and service which, after Pentecost, was frequently repeated.”

Or a second example, “Neither Luke nor Paul teaches that speaking in tongues is a sign of the individual’s inner spiritual development. In the Acts it is often one evidence of the Spirit’s outpouring, of which there are also others. But it cannot be taken as the sign of a second inner experience of baptism in the Spirit. Paul presents this charism as one of many which builds the body, not as a mark of spiritual maturity (or immaturity)” (p. 197).

How, though, would Hummel keep the movement alive, sensitive to criticism, yet faithful to the Scriptures? He reminds us that “the heart of charismatic renewal is not tongues nor baptism in the Spirit.…” Rather it is commitment to “the full range of charisms as manifestations of the Holy Spirit to meet the needs of the Christian community.” All the gifts are needed every day for the building up of the church, a body that needs daily renewal. The gifts are not the property of a few high-ranking leaders, nor the possessions of some people for private use. These are to be developed throughout the whole body to build up the Christian community.

But specifically how? Hummel calls for frequent discussion within congregations for information and direction. He pleads with us to expect the Holy Spirit to make his presence known. The author tells us not to fear the gifts simply because they might be misused, nor to hesitate to ask for them out of fear of not knowing where such searchings might lead. But, we can ask, what about the disputes and divisiveness in the churches? He writes that “We should realize that it is people, not the truth, who cause division.” People use different terminology and they have conflicting and often faulty communications systems.

But all of that has been said before. Hummel contributes, in his summation, some original insights. We need to exercise all the gifts, avoid a tendency toward individualism, remain open to change, recognize what the nonessentials in a dispute might be, and accept “the loving unity possible amid marked diversity of perspective” concerning spiritual gifts.

The way of moderation is the most difficult path to follow. Hummel notes that such a path “does not yet give answers to some of the profound questions it raises.” But we can be sure, he concludes, God is renewing his church, one means being the neo-Pentecostal movement. This book brings together for us a constructive statement of where to begin and what to expect.

Tension In Modern Life

Facing Up to Modernity: Excursions in Society, Politics, and Religion, by Peter L. Berger (Basic, 1977, 246 pp., $11.50), is reviewed by Lewis Rambo, assistant professor of religion and psychology, San Francisco Theological Seminary, San Anselmo, California.

This book is a collection of eighteen essays demonstrating the range, depth, and vitality of Peter Berger’s thought. By profession a sociologist, Berger explores various facets of the contemporary world with both analytical objectivity and passionate conviction. Berger believes that a sociologist should seek to be as detached as possible in the process of examining the social dimension of modern life, but he also recognizes that the sociologist is a person with values that unavoidably influence his work. He urges an honest recognition of one’s biases.

The unifying theme of the book is the diverse ways that “modernity” shapes contemporary society and consciousness. By modernity Berger means a host of factors that have important consequences on religion, politics, and self-understanding. The pivotal essay in the book, “Toward a Critique of Modernity,” identifies five characteristics of modernity. First, there is the process of abstraction—a style or mechanism by which life is quantified and simplified, thereby sacrificing its richness and complexity. Among the common products of such abstraction are IBM data cards and Social Security numbers. Second, there is a shift in the approach to time. Instead of being concerned primarily with the past or the present, modernity is preoccupied with the future.

Third, there is a process of individuation in which people are progressively separated from their families, communities, and cultures. The individual self becomes a fragile, but frantically preserved, entity with little sense of identity. A fourth characteristic of modernity is the multiplication of options and the resulting freedom of choice for individuals. This can be liberating for some, but in many cases it results in a terrifying loss of stability and certainty. The “liberated” self is precarious and often is in desperate search for meaning and purpose. Secularization is the fifth facet of modernity that Berger discusses. Secularization is not only the declining influence of religious institutions on the modern world, but also the multiplication of religious options within a modern society. When there is diversity, certitude and confidence are lost. Secularization’s impact is also felt in the virtual disappearance of the supernatural within the public life of most “advanced” societies. Religion tends to become basically a private affair.

The split between the public and private spheres produces tensions within the individual that must be alleviated in some manner. In this connection, Berger’s essay “Toward a Sociological Understanding of Psychoanalysis” is an illuminating study of the way in which psychology as a discipline, as a science, and as an ideology functions in modern society. Psychological therapy serves as an institution that mediates between the public and private spheres of life in order to heal and maintain eroding identities.

In another fascinating essay, “A Sociological View of the Secularization of Theology,” Berger chides the “death of God” theologians as being scholars who have too easily accommodated themselves to the thought forms of secularity. Secular theology is, in fact, self-liquidating. On the other hand, he does not believe that the defensive posture of the more orthodox is much better. The conservative Christian often rejects modernity without carefully examining it. Berger’s penetrating insights force both the “liberal” and the “conservative” to do rigorous work in order to meet the challenges of the modern world.

Berger urges the church to take a stand of courageous affirmation in order to stem the tide of alienation, spiritual lassitude, and meaninglessness in the essay entitled “A Call for Authority in the Christian Community.” Berger is critical of those theologians who assume the superiority of the “modern mind” and reject the message of the Bible because it is, to them, “primitive.” Thoughtful reconsideration of the Christian tradition, including those elements of the supernatural, leads to a renewal of appreciation for the power and promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Facing up to Modernity contains many excellent essays that will serve as a good introduction to those unfamiliar with Berger, and for those who have read his other books, this collection brings together some vintage articles. One will not always agree with Berger, but those interested in wrestling with important topics could find few who surpass Berger’s sharp intellect and crisp, lively style of writing. If you wish to savor some of Berger’s other books, consider these. Invitation to Sociology is a general introduction to the field. For an example of his work in the sociology of religion see The Sacred Canopy. For a more complete understanding of the effects of modernity on contemporary consciousness see The Homeless Mind. Those who are interested in ethics and political science should read Pyramids of Sacrifice. As a demonstration of Berger’s enormous range of interests see his novel, Protocol of a Damnation.

Freire: Third World Theorist

Paulo Freire: His Life, Work and Thoughts, by Denis Collins (Paulist, 1977, 94 pp., $2.45 pb), is reviewed by Samuel F. Rowen, coordinator of curriculum development, Missionary Internship, Farmington, Michigan.

Paulo Freire has become one of the most significant forces in education in the Third World. His best known book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, has been translated into many languages. It is difficult to engage in discussions on the mission of the church without coming across the use of the ideas of “praxis” and “conscientization,” which are central to his thought.

He is important for those concerned with missions because many Latin American evangelical theologians feel that his pedagogy is the most relevant to the political realities of their countries. In a recent church conference in Manila all of the discussions centered around the ideas of Freire. I personally asked a Catholic priest from a parish in Manila where he was looking for theological assistance, Europe or Latin America. He forcefully replied, “Latin America. The European church is too doctrinal. It is to Gutierrez and Freire that we are looking because they speak to our realities.”

In Paulo Freire: His Life, Work and Thoughts we are introduced to the person and his writings that are making such a profound impact. Collins shows us that the eclectic thought of Freire is both disturbing to people and also appealing to many diverse groups: “The Latin American reader understands Freire because of an experience of political struggle or an involvement in a social movement which has a socio-economic framework. The Catholic reader identifies with Freire’s humanist orientation and feels on familiar ground with Freire and the philosophers who have influenced him. The Marxist reader recognizes in Freire’s writings a number of contemporary currents which Marxist thinkers (Gramsci, Lukacs, Marcuse) are used to dealing with. The reader who happens to be an educator finds accents of liberation which characterize progressive tendencies in the contemporary pedagogical debate” (p. 26).

Collins traces the major sources of influence on Freire’s life and thought. His growing up with poverty led him to commit himself to seeking the “maximum self-development and growth in freedom of all men and women.” Collins identifies five philosophical strains that, combined with his own classical humanism, shape his thought: (1) personalism; (2) existentialism; (3) phenomenology; (4) Marxism; (5) Christianity.

Freire was influenced by Emmanuel Mounier’s personalism and tried to demonstrate that “the impulse to remake the world, which receives so much Christian disapproval, has a Christian origin” (p. 29). Collins portrays Freire in an optimistic light as he implements his educational philosophy. Best known for the literacy work in northeastern Brazil, Freire believes that all education is political and therefore should lead to freedom. This is captured in the title of one of his works: Education as the Practice of Freedom. Because of the political implications of his pedagogy, Freire is exiled from Brazil and is presently a consultant with the World Council of Churches in Geneva.

Freire’s pedagogical method is dialogical in nature. Education should assist man in generating the “themes” of his own existence. This process is one of defining the problems and discovering the limits inherent in a situation. As man begins to “name” the world for himself he becomes free to change his world. Praxis is the point at which reflection and action come together authentically. Reflection without action is mere verbalism; action without reflection is activism. In praxis the authentic word is spoken because it includes both reflection and action in an ongoing process. To speak a word apart from praxis is to produce “an alienating and alienated blah.”

Collins has given us an excellent introduction to Freire’s life and philosophy. At times it is hard to read, but this reflects the difficulty of Freire himself. Collins intends to give a sympathetic introduction to Freire. This he does well. However, he does not deal critically with some of the major issues that are unresolved in Freire’s thought. For example, Freire has been criticized for his inability to root praxis in history. It is the question of liberation for what. Harvie Conn of Westminster Seminary has attempted to root the idea of praxis in the biblical idea of covenant.

It would be wrong to ignore Freire on the basis of what he does not do. He is profoundly affecting the thought of the Third World. Every missionary should be conversant with his ideas. Paulo Freire: His Life, Works and Thought provides an excellent introduction to this difficult, but significant, man.

For Philosophical Sophisticates

Reason and Religion, edited by Stuart C. Brown (Cornell, 1977, 315 pp., $15.00, $6.95 pb), is reviewed by Irving Hexham, assistant professor of philosophy of religion, Regent College, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

This volume is a collection of papers delivered at five symposiums at a conference sponsored by the Royal Institute of Philosophy held at the University of Lancaster in England in 1975. It is a stimulating work, which presents, in a readily accessible form, the views of a number of leading contemporary philosophers.

The topics covered by the symposiums were wide-ranging: Hugo Meynell and Harry Stopes-Roe discussed the intelligibility of the universe; Norman Malcolm and Colin Lyas argued about the grounds of religious belief: Peter Winch and Stuart Brown were concerned with meaning rather than with questions of truth; D.Z. Phillips and Richard Swinburne treated the problem of personal identity and immortality. The debates were heavily Wittgensteinian, although Karl Popper and others make occasional appearances. The arguments are ones that may strike many evangelical Christians as strange, and yet they are those that have preoccupied Anglo-Saxon philosophers for the last decade.

This is a book for the philosophically sophisticated. It is not a book for young Christians or people who simply dabble in philosophy. It is a hard book to read, and can be, at times, disturbing to faith. For those who have had a philosophical education, it is a stimulating and exciting book that opens up new avenues of thought. As such, it would make an excellent textbook in an advanced course on contemporary religious philosophy.

But most of all,” Harold said, “he’s really aware of what’s going on. He knows everything that’s happening.” Harold and Darrell had been raving about their pastor. They talked about his acts of kindness, his fine preaching, and his administrative ability.

I knew their pastor. Everything they said was true. And the half had not been told. He was what I’d call the ubiquitous minister—seeming to be everywhere at once.

“I’ll bet he even does janitorial work,” I said, laughing. “True,” Darrell replied, his eyes beaming. “Why, one morning I came to church and saw him sweeping out the kitchen area.”

For some people that’s the ideal minister. He (or she) is everything wrapped into one package. He takes care of the church, the people, the budget, the committees, and he knows everything that goes on in Sunday school, youth activities, and social affairs.

But nagging thoughts trouble me about the ubiquitous minister. After all the dust from his swirling activities settles, is that what he really wants? Is that what the Lord wants?

Plaudits from the congregation supply nourishment for the hungry ego. It’s even better when they tack on, “I don’t see how you do it all. You’re always around. Mr. Everywhere. No matter how busy, you always make time.” Although the minister’s ego expands from these words, it may turn out to be unhealthy for the congregation.

For instance, Gene became pastor of a congregation with a membership listed as nearly 600 but with a regular attendance of 125. Within six months, Gene had activities humming. Attendance picked up, new programs abounded. The budget doubled in three years. But in the fifth year, Gene moved to a different church. The church is back to an average attendance of 125, much like it was before Gene came on the scene. “In a lot of ways he hurt the church,” a member said. “He kept everything in his grip. Nothing went on without his approval.”

That was the real problem. Gene became the final voice on everything. And when the final voice left, much of the growing stopped. He received praise and respect. But what did he do for the congregation? I ask questions like that because I can understand Gene. My tendency is also to be the hub of every wheel—a dangerous position.

First, we’re not teaching the people to do for themselves. Gene appointed committees regularly. And if they didn’t function efficiently or quickly enough, he came through like Superman, greased the machinery, and everything worked out on time. Eventually, most of the leaders simply allowed Gene to make the decisions and direct all the action. And when he left, so did everything else. He forgot a serious principle—one that helped start and propel the Protestant Reformation—the priesthood of believers.

Second, it doesn’t allow for growth. We grow as we assume responsibility. Or as we try and fail. We face indecision and question our own abilities to fulfill a task and come out of the experience more mature. But people similar to Gene won’t let people fail—but then, they don’t let them succeed either.

In our church, we have Bible studies and prayer groups in homes. When I attended the Thursday Bible study for the first time, they had already been operating with lay leadership. When it came time for the study, one of them said, “You’ve come to direct us and show us how to do it, I guess.” “Nope. I came to study with you,” I replied. And I meant it. But the authority figure (me) soon discovered that he knew more about the passage involved than anyone else; he understood the cultural background that helped in explaining the passage; and having had Greek in seminary, he could give them a few lessons on why the aorist tense made the passage mean something slightly different than it appears in most English translations. I almost opened my mouth to explain the text to them. Then a thought struck me. Would I be of more help in listening? Is it possible that although they have less education and fewer tools for Bible study the Holy Spirit might speak through them? I decided to sit back and wait to be asked for help.

Although I made occasional brief comments, I didn’t really contribute much to the study. I didn’t need to. I believe I could have taught the lesson better than Ken. But I would have cheated them. Each person thought seriously about the passage. Those folks began to ask how each verse affected life for the Christian today. The participants grew in their experience. And I know that people learn more from thinking, studying, and grappling for themselves than always sitting with hands folded, waiting for the authority figure to drop great deposits of wisdom into their hands.

Finally, the ubiquitous minister points everything toward himself. God uses people. That’s why he distributes talents among everyone. But he never puts all talents into the life of a single individual. Paul wrote so often about the body of Christ. All of us, he said, are parts, and none of us is anything alone.

This became clear to me recently when I talked with an editor friend, Dick. We mentioned a manuscript of mine that had gone to another publisher. I had been waiting nearly three months for a final word about its acceptance. “Since he asked for the manuscript, shouldn’t you have heard by now?” Dick asked.

“Not necessarily. I know how he works. It’s a good publishing house but he makes all the ultimate decisions about everything they publish. He travels a lot and that means authors often have to wait a long time.”

“I hope they have good insurance on him,” he said.

As Dick spoke, it suddenly became clear to me that many ministers work the same way. Several years ago, one of those ubiquitous types, at forty-three, awakened in the coronary care unit of a local hospital. His doctor wouldn’t let him even step inside the church office for six weeks. He waited an additional two weeks before he preached again. Do you know what happened? The elders called an emergency meeting. “We can always get someone to come in and preach for us. But we’re elders. We ought to be able to do everything MacIvers did. We can’t preach as well, but we can try. We can visit the sick and do a lot of other things ourselves,” an elder said. Although a few expressed doubt, they agreed to try. Two of the fifteen elders alternated preaching on Sunday. Another elder taught the pastor’s Sunday school class. Others divided up visiting the sick and contacting prospects.

When Tom MacIvers returned to a full schedule, he discovered a much stronger church. It also required restyling his ministry. “Even today,” he said, four years later, “I realize that members are doing some tasks I could do better, but I’m delighted that I have a congregation of people who feel this is their church. They used to call it MacIvers’s church.”

What does all this say? There’s only one ubiquitous person—God himself. A minister finds the areas that by training, temperament, and talent, he can fulfill. Then part of his joy, as well as responsibility, is to enable others to fulfill themselves and find their place of ministry in Jesus Christ.

Cecil B. Murphey is pastor of Riverdale Presbyterian Church, Riverdale, Georgia.

We are, of course, as faddish in our treatment of the spirit world as in our relationship to everything else. For the past few years we have been enchanted with the Devil and his infernal legions. Witches and wizards have become all too predictable a part of our lives, from T.V. comedies to college courses. Films of diabolical possession and exorcism, or even diabolical impregnation and parturition have shocked and titillated the masses. Americans apparently find the notions of Old Ned both charmingly ridiculous and ominously believable. Taught in our youth to accept the literal reality of the Devil, we are ridiculed in our maturity for such belief. The trivialization of the occult is an extension of this attack on the theology of evil, a cheapening of it that reduces sin to entertainment.

C. S. Lewis has his charming Screwtape note that one of the Devil’s favorite ploys is the encouragement of the disbelief in his own infernal reality. Once convinced that evil is no more than superstitious flim-flam, we can relax, content in our faith in human decency and self-sufficiency. The medieval image of the good angel and the bad angel fighting for the soul is laughingly reduced to Flip Wilson’s “The debbil made me do it.”

Tolstoy believed in evil, in the reality of Satan, in “the power of darkness.” So did Dostoyevsky; so does Solzhenitsyn. Even Conrad, for whom evil was in the universe, not beyond it, saw that deep in the human being lay “the heart of darkness.” Graham Greene believes this in an impressively literal and supernatural way. So did Dorothy L. Sayers. In fact, she studied how the Devil has fared in literature. And she wrote her own version of one of the most famous “devil plays.”

From medieval moralities to modern immoralities, there has been a diminution in the character of Satan. Santayana also noted that the treatment of Mephistopheles in Marlowe’s Faustus and in Goethe’s Faust reflect the cultural intellectual contexts that produced the plays and their audiences. Sayers went further: She notes that Marlowe saw temptation that a faith in human sufficiency leads to damnation. Even though the author was apparently not a Christian, he accepted the doctrine as true. Goethe, on the other hand, did not. His Faust redeems himself through his love of his fellow man and his constant striving. In his view, Satan is no threat to the tireless social activist. And, as Sayers points out, such a man senses no need for supernatural intervention to achieve his salvation. He can handle it all by himself. Thus, the romantic eliminates the human need for God in his elimination of the power of Satan.

Returning to the more realistic view that Sayers finds in her beloved Dante, she insists that Satan is real. Not created in his evil by God, but the effect of God’s goodness, he stands as a frightening power in the universe and in man’s existence. Freedom of choice makes no sense unless there is an evil as well as a good. Thus, when she wrote The Devil to Pay, Sayers made her Faustus ask that Mephistopheles take away the knowledge of good and evil. The price for such “innocence” is, of course, his soul.

It is interesting that Sayers sees a flabby liberalism as the first step toward Faustus’s damnation. Sounding like a modern politician, Faustus exhorts the crowd in Rome with stirring words: “I would free you from the burden of fear and pain and poverty that God has laid upon you.” When the people create new evils from the gold he showers upon them (young people mug old cripples and leave them in greater pain than they knew before), he grows disillusioned. (Now he sounds like a president whose war on poverty has just failed):

I too love men; but they are all against me.

They hug their chains; the sacrificial iron

Cankers them at the core. I am not afraid

To suffer; for their sakes I would be damned

Willingly, so I first might do away

Suffering forever from the pleasant earth.

But neither God nor men will allow him to serve as the substitutionary sacrifice. Unable to become Christ for suffering man, he seeks to forget that suffering exists. Thus his escape into devil-given ignorance—and damnation. In the end he wastes his life on vulgar conjuring tricks, trying to avoid the awareness of approaching death. Sadly, he admits, like a world-weary modern Sybarite: “I gave all I had for happiness.” His lesson, still unlearned on the day of his death, is that happiness is not an end, but “something that comes of itself, when we are busy about other matters.”

Only at the moment of death is Faustus reminded of hell. He protests: “Death and hell? Don’t speak those words. They madden me. I’ll not hear them.” Ironic, urbane Mephistopheles, the eternal realist, responds dryly: “Stop your ears and welcome. But die you must and be damned.” The joke on Mephistopheles is that Faustus, by retreating from his humanity, no longer has a soul worth damning. At his death, only the brutal soul of a dog remains in the corpse. In a final judgment, Faustus is given the choice of living the uncommitted life, between heaven and hell, like those trimmers so miserable in Dante’s ante-Hell, or accepting damnation.

Mephistopheles, summing up the reality of evil for our age, says: “I am the price that all things pay for being, the shadow on the world, thrown by the world, standing in its own light, which light God is.” Faustus discovers God at last, only in the moment when he acknowledges the reality of evil, of hell. Until he sees this, he cannot know the full glory and power of God.

The play was not a success—perhaps because it came to the London stage just as the Second World War was starting and death became a matter of immediate concern for the British, not a subject for entertainment. But neither has it been revived as the Wimsey stories and other Sayers plays have been. The critic, though aware of certain formal problems in the drama, must suspect that the play does not speak to the contemporary mood of England or America. Other variants of the Faust legend have been successful (as in, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?), but they were handled as comedy. Our age apparently wants to giggle its way past unacknowledged and therefore unreal hell into a heaven that imposes no entrance requirements.

We do not seem to accept the reality of evil and its dramatic potential if set in exotic climes or remote periods—or if the evil-doer is Nixon or some member of his infernal troups. The notions that evil is personal, that death awaits us, and that our eternal home could be Hell—these possibilities are as remote and fantastic to Americans as star wars. Perhaps that is why Sayers clothed her tale in late medieval, early Renaissance garb.

We, like Faustus, have hungrily bought Mephistopheles’s shoddy wares. (Where are the consumer advocates when we really need them?) Playing with the trinkets of affluence, thrilled by our destruction of others and our hopes for the preservation of ourselves, we ignore the realities of death and damnation. If Satan is no more than a spooky voice, exorcised by the end of the film, we are secure in our splitlevel complacency. Certainly no devil can demand the soul of a twentieth-century American. It would be an outrageous attack on our civil rights. We are delivered from evil by seat belts and redeemed by the GNP. If we sniff a puff of infernal smoke in Manson’s tribal rituals, or in Watergate or Koreagate, we know that the judicial system, in its power and glory, will preserve us.

Milton, Bunyan, Dante, and Sayers are voices of the loyal opposition: They took evil seriously, and they took free will seriously. We know good by knowing evil. Our postlapsarian freedom can no longer be innocent (and childish) or ignorant (and brutish). We must acknowledge that evil is well and living in New York, not to mention Washington, Hollywood, and London; or we shall fail to seek the good that even New York can make out of adversity. By refusing to take Satan seriously we fail to see the need for a redeeming God.

Nancy M. Tischler is professor of English and humanities, Pennsylvania State University, the Capitol Campus, Middletown, Pennsylvania.