Many secular theologies seem to be unrealistic about the rich complexity of existence, ending with an outlook upon the world that simplifies issues to the point of insipidity. This has implications for evangelism. Let me illustrate.

In his book Secular Christianity Ronald Gregor Smith speaks of faith as “the very means of true secularity.” He writes:

Faith is not concerned to proselytize. It cannot proselytize, because it carries no equipment, and peddles no wares, which it may offer to the passerby. Its only way is to carry in the body, that is, in the historical existence in the world which it both maintains and endures, the marks of Jesus. But these are not the sacred stigmata of the kind the crowd longs to see and touch. They are the marks of absolute openness, which is absolutely engaged with the historical possibilities of the hour.… The End in Christ is here and now in our present history only in the form of Faith’s openness to the future [Collins, 1966, p. 200].

Now, such a statement leaves me puzzled. I am puzzled by its combination of assurance and vagueness, of willingness to lay down hard-and-fast laws and unwillingness to explain these laws.

Faith will not proselytize (Smith is certain) because it has no wares to peddle. Now, if he means that Christians ought not to haggle in the secular marketplace in secular terms, then I am with him. Christians ought not to ask people to be converted in order to lose their neuroses, gain self-confidence, make friends, or get places. Yet I cannot forget that the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah pictures God himself as a peddler crying his wares—wares he alone has to offer; or that Jesus lost no time telling the woman at Jacob’s well that he had wares to give to her (John 4:10). So Smith’s new commandment, “Thou shalt not proselytize,” does not seem to me to weigh very solidly over against the command Jesus made to his followers to “make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19).

Similarly, Smith is very certain that life in Christ is fully exhausted by an attitude of “openness to the future.” Now, the more often I meet this phrase—and I meet it almost every time I open a recent religious book or periodical—the less it conveys to me. Surely, like “accepting the universe,” being “open to the future” is something no one can really avoid, and about which he has little choice. Being closed to the future is really impossible, because the future does not lend itself to manipulation. Even suicide, as Hamlet once said rather well, leaves the future decidedly open. Smith recommends absolute openness. This, surely, is to recommend idolatry. Nothing can be absolute for a Christian except the will of God, which is in itself absolutely “good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2). Once, hearing the phrase “Art for Art’s sake,” a wit asked, “What is this Art that it should have a sake?” I would ask, in the same vein, “What is this Future that it should demand of me absolute openness?” The future, like everything else in this created universe, depends absolutely upon God and is in his hands. (That is why Bonhoeffer, incidentally, believed that living from day to day in this world is our education in faith. Just because we do not order our future in advance, therefore we must throw ourselves unreservedly into the arms of God, committing each hour, as it comes, to him.)

Smith has learned, from some unacknowledged source, that the marks of Jesus are the marks of absolute openness to the future. Although he forbids Christians to proselytize, he seeks to make us proselytes to this dogma. If he means by this “absolute openness” absolute obedience to the Father’s will—the active and passive obedience perfectly given by Jesus of which the old dogmatic theologians spoke—then one would not disagree. Nevertheless, it cannot be simply “the future” that receives such openness; it must be the future under God. There is a pagan openness to the future that puts life under the control of Fate and Fortune, and there is a vitalistic openness that sees history as an unfolding of the world-soul or the emergent evolutionary Principle. Moreover, the claim that such openness is the sole embodiment of the marks of Jesus, or that the End of Christ is present only in this, has little support in biblical evidence. The living Christ lays his hand upon the whole of history, past, present, and future. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Heb. 13:8).

The Christian awaits the future confidently because, whatever it brings, it cannot separate him from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:38, 39). He is enabled to do this because he is also able to confess, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself” (2 Cor. 5:19). His openness to the future is based on his being committed to a belief about what God has done in the past. The marks of Jesus carried in the body of his Church are the marks of the One who was obedient and the One who has laid upon his body, the Church, obedience to him, its Head. That obedience includes readiness to confess the faith by which the body lives: “There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

The paragraph from Gregor Smith’s Secular Christianity brings us, I believe, to the heart of much that goes under the heading “the new evangelism.” Today a theology of the secular is certainly needed to inform and direct evangelistic effort in our secularized world. But a secularizing theology—that is, theology that treats the secular as though it were sacred, or as though the process of history were itself the source of revelation—this theology can only mislead the Christian concerning his proper stance in relation to the world. It will lead him to be silent where he ought to speak, and to be confident about issues where he ought to advance only in fear and trembling.

Writing in 1965, Gregor Smith shied away from all “specific blueprints” for Christian action in society. He declared: “We cannot define any concerted action which could claim to be the manifest Christian course of action” (p. 204). But, since he wrote, the cause of “revolutionary theology” has been taken up with enthusiasm in many quarters. We are widely urged to discover “what God is doing in the world,” and to be “God’s vanguard” in initiating “social change.”

Carl Braaten, writing just recently, asserts that two themes stand out for him: the theme of the future and the theme of revolution. Together they show where Christians can act in freedom and unity. He explains:

The church’s mission to the world is to keep it from getting bogged down in the present.… When the world is swallowed up by hopelessness or is bored by its stagnant present, the church can lift up public symbols of the future that generate new possibilities in the present. The church is needed as the voice of prophecy in the world to regenerate the social and political images that inspire the world to change for the better. The church cannot limit its mission in history to salvaging individuals from a meaningless world; it works not only in history but for history, not only in culture but for culture, not only for persons but for communities, not only in the present but toward the ultimate future [Projections, Doubleday, 1970, “American Historical Experience and Christian Reflection,” p. 107].

Yes, the Church of Jesus Christ is needed in the world; were it not, Jesus would not have founded it, loved it, and given himself for it (Eph. 5:25). But the reason the Church is needed is surely not that the world is apt to get into a rut and needs a little inspiration to get on with the job of building the future. The task for Christians cannot be to act as cheerleaders crying, “On world, on world, on! Change! Change for the Better!” This is really only old-type individualistic self-help and peace-of-mind religion turned inside out. Yesterday we were being told, “Unlock your faith-power. Turn inferiority feelings into creative energy.” Today the message is, “Regenerate the public symbols of hope for the future. Work for genuine community, culture, and a happy tomorrow.”

The Gospel is more than individual. It is also more than social. The first error is the mirror-image of the second, and neither will do very much to heal the real and deep wounds of the world.

The tragedy of the conversion-to-world approach is that, instead of letting the light of Christ shine upon the world’s dark places, it follows the world’s definition of light and promises to get more of that. More than thirty years ago Karl Barth noted that Christianity had become the cultural religion of Western man to the extent that it thought itself most Christian when it was most slavishly echoing cultural trends. Medieval Christendom was a sacral society, said Barth, and so it preached the salvation of souls through the ecclesiastical institutions of that society. The modern world became secular and activist. The traditional churches seemed pale remnants of the old order. So Christians suddenly discovered how, in Barth’s words, “the Church or Christianity might be a useful and usable force for education and order in the service of the new secular glory of Western man” (Church Dogmatics, 1/2, p. 335). “It accepted modern man with his energetic attitude to himself, asking how best Christianity could be commended to that man. It took up the role allotted to it, and was at pains to make itself indispensable to it … pointing out how the doctrine of Jesus Christ … has the secret power of giving to men the inward capacity to seek and obtain the aims and purposes which he has independently chosen” (p. 336).

Not much has changed since Barth wrote those words, except the fashion in slogans. Now, instead of “a useful and usable force for education and order,” we are hearing Christianity recommended as “a revolutionary force to instigate social change.” Energetic Western man is flattered by being called “co-creator” with God, “the steersman of the cosmos,” and is asked to spare time to look at Christianity now that it is “action-oriented.”

Now, it would be foolish as well as ungrateful to pretend that nothing positive has been achieved by the new emphasis upon the social dimension of faith that has stemmed from the secular theologies of the sixties. Anything that stirs us up and prevents us from settling down “at ease in Zion” does us a great deal of good. The determination to be doers of the word and not hearers only was a healthy reaction to the sometimes self-satisfied religiosity of the fifties, when at times religion seemed to fit all too easily into the pattern of the North American way of life. As Christians we believe that God’s providential guidance is constant. In the revival of understanding of the corporate dimension of salvation in the Bible; in the reaction against cheap grace and the churches’ over-preoccupation with internal housekeeping; in the compassion for the underprivileged and the vulnerable in our inequitable society, a compassion that could not stop short of active engagement—in all these things, we may believe that God was leading our age, and still is.

But God’s Providence is always twofold. It meets us in mercy—but also in judgment. When men transfer their belief from the Providence of God to the Process of History, they drop the judgment side, very largely if not altogether. This is the procedure I have been speaking about: the simplifying procedure that will not hold sacred and secular in tension but wants to reduce the one to the other, and on the way loses the complex truth about the world and the searching reality of the Gospel. Why are we so sure that it has been left to us to publish, at long last, the version of Christian faith that really “tells it like it is”—so sure that we can lay down the law about what religion “must be” if it is to win the future and not die? Why are we so ready to accuse previous generations of Christians of not seeing what we see, and of being those who killed the prophets—whereas, of course, our ears are open to the prophetic word today? Can it not be, just possibly, that it is not solely our faithfulness to the Gospel that makes us denounce the “hypocrisy” of earlier days? Could the desire to be on the popular side have something to do with it? No doubt there was recently “a suburban captivity of the churches,” which is still to some extent with us. But is it so very different for Christians to conform when conformity is respectable, and to commend revolutionary Christianity when talk of revolution is in vogue?

I notice that many religious books I open these days quote Karl Marx’s dictum about philosophers’ having explained the world, whereas our task is to change it. The time for words is over, so theologians are saying, and the time for action has begun. Yet all they are actually bringing us is a printed page, full of words. The oldest trick of the demogogue is to shout that he is a man of action, not of words—and then continue orating for two hours. Have Christians never acted before now? And will the substitution of the word “Christopraxis” for the word “theology,” as some suggest, really get us to love and serve our neighbor better? I personally have strong doubts whether it is the Holy Spirit that is leading so many Christian leaders to the conviction that their task is, at every opportunity, to join in vigorous denunciation of the status quo. If that is the prophetic voice needed in our time, the earth has never been so thickly populated by prophets.

Maybe the word that Christians might be injecting into the present scene is a word that, as Bonhoeffer suggested in his day, might sober us up from the intoxication of thinking that we ourselves, and not God, can restore to wholeness a fallen world ruled by death. Maybe they could point out, for instance, that socia’ change does not necessarily mean change for the better. Carl Braaten, having given the standard quotation from Marx, comments: “This is more in line with the Christian spirit that seeks the transformation of that which is, and looks upon the urge to conform to that which is as a manifestation of sin” (Projections, p. 107). He might have added, but does not, that “the body of death” which is the world denying Christ cannot change its nature by manifesting itself in some new form, and hoping that it will do so is equally a manifestation of sin.

Perhaps, too, Christians should sober up to the fact that the secular world, whether clinging to the status quo or bent on revolution, is not likely to be impressed by our pleading “Look at us, and notice how secular and revolutionary we are. We’re just like you.” Secularists, or any sensible non-Christians, are much more likely to be interested in just how and why we are different from our contemporaries. As it is, the outlook of the detached observer who looks at the Christian witness today may well be along the skeptical lines Gerald Sykes has recorded in his book The Cool Millennium. Sykes comments that the churches are trying to make up for their intellectual and moral bankruptcy by taking up popular social causes.

As I see it, the false belief that words are an alternative to action and the half-truth that thinking must be consciously action-oriented are the principal causes of the inadequacy of the “new evangelism.” The new emphasis trusts in “Christian presence” and in Christian service rather than in direct proclamation of the Gospel in words. There is need here of more thinking-through of a situation that calls for tough-mindedness as well as for tenderness of conscience.

The reaffirmation of the Servant Church in our day is something for which we must be profoundly grateful. We have much to learn, in our wrestling with day-to-day events, about the implementation of the servant role of every committed Christian in the ministry of Christ’s Church to a world given over to the worship of force and violence. But comparatively little attention is being given to the role of individual members in the Confessing Church. Yet this is, in its own way, equally important. Here the reaction against the institution of Christendom, and against a narrow pietism concentrating upon “winning souls,” has turned all too many away from attending to an area of faithfulness to the Christian Gospel that is absolutely essential to the wholeness of that Gospel.

The confusion, I believe, is a result of missing the vital connection between witness in word and witness in action, and the impossibility of reducing either to the other. Such a confusion is parallel to the confusion of the relation between the secular and the sacred.

Witness to the Gospel in word through the proclamation of the saving truth of Jesus Christ, his incarnation, atoning death, resurrection, intercession at the right hand of God, and coming again: this is the witness the Church is called upon to give continually, in season and out of season (1 Tim. 4:2). Now, the utterance of words is no proof of living faith in the one who preaches the Gospel of our salvation. Paul knew that, as well as anyone today (1 Cor. 9:27). I may say all the right (orthodox) words, and in my actions belie my words. That is a matter between God and myself, though, of course, like everything I do, it does not involve only me personally, since my hypocrisy may be a stumbling block to others and turn them away from the way of faith. Yet, the faultiness in the preacher gives him no excuse for failing to preach, or the Church would be condemned to dumbness until the end of history.

Nor is action, in itself, proof of faith. Popular worldly wisdom pronounces, “Actions speak louder than words.” And, generally speaking, they do. That is why the martyr is given that name: marturion, witness. His is the supreme witness in life, since he puts all he has to offer and counts it less than enough to give as his testimony of faith. We honor, of necessity, martyrs to faiths that we think to be mistaken or wicked, since it brings us face to face with the poverty of our own faith. Yet martyrdom does not prove the rightness of faith, or even the goodness of the martyr. Because we are human beings, who must seek to relate ourselves to the truth through words, we cannot escape the necessity for bringing words into relation with the one who has given his witness in life, asking: “Why did he die? And for what?” Jesus himself appealed to his actions as confirmation of his message (John 14:11). Yet he taught in words, and told his disciples to repeat those words. Those who rejected him (and today still reject him), rejected equally his words and his actions. Actions and words are not simply separable. Nor can actions replace words, or stand alone securely where words fail.

Were Christian faith merely a matter of words spoken, then Christianity would have faded out of history long ago. Yet the converse is equally true. Were Christian action self-authenticating in the absence of words, then evangelism through words recalling Jesus Christ, God with us in Galilee and Jerusalem, the Victim upon the Cross and the Victor ascending to Heaven—that would have been discovered to be superfluous, and the name of Christ Jesus (mere words, after all) would have disappeared from human memory.

No, Christian presence witnessing in life cannot be enough. The task of the Church is certainly to serve human life, to be secularly active in the secular sphere, to be in the world (as Jesus Christ was) in the form of a servant. But the task of proclaiming the Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world, Christ crucified and risen, is an equally pressing obligation. And, since no one can claim without presumption to live the life in Christ to the measure of Christ himself, the proclamation in word is primary, in the order of life in the Church—just as, for the individual Christian before God, to be Christ’s true disciple is primary and his duty to proclaim the name of Christ and tell his story is secondary.

The victory that overcomes the world is our faith (1 John 5:4). Faith is lived in the world. In the world it must also be proclaimed.

SLEEPING STARS

“In Asia great

luminaries sleep

who shall rise

again on the last

day” huge & silent

stars burning beneath

the ancient Roman

stonework

their amazing brilliance

seald

in earthen shadow

turns inward

to the central

Light, whose shine

they are, in whom

they sleep

We too “sleep

in Ephesus”

& when the Sun rises

we too shall ascend

& live in

his light flinging brilliance

into brilliance, in

constellations of eternal

love

F. EUGENE WARREN

Kenneth Hamillton is professor of systematic theology at the University of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. He received the Th.D. from Emmanuel College, Victoria University, Toronto. He is the author of a dozen books, including “What’s New in Religion?” and “In Search of Contemporary Man.” This article is from an address given at the Canadian Congress on Evangelism.

The plight of the Jews in the Soviet Union continues to worsen. The reduction in the death sentences of some Jews convicted of a hijacking offense that never became airborne indicates no change of mind or heart by Soviet officials. It is specious for Soviet scientists to appeal for acquittal of Angela Davis when justice and equity are virtually non-existent in their own country. I think it would be helpful for the Russian scientists to come to America and watch the trial of Angela Davis and for representative Americans (including some of Miss Davis’s friends) to go to Moscow and watch Soviet legal proceedings.

None of this, however, should cause us to forget the suffering Jews in the Soviet Union. Their plight reminds me of the Jews’ captivity in Egypt and of God’s great deliverance of them in the Exodus. It is difficult to understand why the communists are unwilling to allow the Jews—whom they hate and persecute—to emigrate to Israel. I should think that they not only would be delighted for them to depart but also would do all they could to encourage and assist them.

I ask prayer for the son of a former assistant editor of CHRISTIANITY TODAY, Robert Cleath, Jr., who was critically injured in an automobile accident last month. His brother who was also injured has recovered. The family needs our prayers.

An evening at the humorous but amateurish Chicago production of Promises, Promises reminded me that the last truly memorable pieces I had seen on the American stage were Hadrian VII with Hume Cronyn and the Chicago Old Town Players’ rendition of Jack Richardson’s The Prodigal. Promises, Promises also recalled my promise (in this column of July 17) to supplement my discussion of the French cinema with an article on the current Parisian stage—whose vitality contrasts so markedly with its American counterpart.

“But the French stage is dirty and immoral!” cries the reader who had the misfortune to suffer through a “Paris by Night” segment in his guided tour of Gay Paree. Actually, it is no fairer to evaluate the French legitimate theater (which few non-Frenchmen ever attend, owing to the language barrier) on the basis of cheap nightclub acts than it would be to prejudge Hadrian VII by way of Las Vegas nightspots. The stage production of most questionable taste in Paris today happens to be the American import Hair, and it has elicited a response that would be hard to imagine in our own country, where we have come to accept “Woodstock” operations as part of the cultural landscape: playwright René Ehni, already famous for his mockery of the left-wing intelligentsia in Que Ferez-Vous en Novembre?, brought out a new play, Super-Positions, in which the mentality of those who create productions like Hair is surgically analyzed and exposed to ridicule.

In point of fact, the Paris legitimate theater remains the best in the world. For every Hadrian VII in the United States and every 40 Years On in London, there are scores of plays each season in Paris that encourage—or even force—the theatergoer to rethink his existence. Why is this? In part the answer is (and I hope my rightest readers ponder it well, especially those who in Indiana even opposed federal aid to public libraries) that the French state directly subsidizes the theater through its Ministry of Culture!

More vital as an explanatory factor for the quality of the Parisian stage is the remarkable lucidity of the French mind at its best (the quality termed “Cartesian spirit”). Descartes’s insistence that everything be made clear and explicit—deriving from the classical precision of the orthodox Christian theological thinking from which Descartes ironically departed—has colored the French mentality to such an extent that art is invariably made to wrestle seriously with ultimate questions. Even Frenchmen such as Camus who drank deeply at the founts of non-rational existentialism have been incapable of achieving the intellectual turgidity of a Heidegger! How many American playwrights, whose perspectives seem to have difficulty rising above the levels of nudity and profanity, could analyze their task as Roger Planchon did his work of reviving Racine’s Bérénice? Said he in a Le Monde interview in April, criticizing the very fallacy that theologians of the New Hermeneutic have baptized with their “hermeneutical circle”: We must “come properly to grips with the work itself” and not be “content to use the classic as a mouthpiece or echo-chamber for our own ideas.”

“Granting all this,” our critic retorts, “isn’t the Parisian theater largely devoted either to depressing descriptions of the human predicament, without a hint of a solution, or to idealistic and perfectionistic expressions (as in escapist operettas) that go to the opposite extreme?” But one must distinguish lack of explicit solution to man’s predicament from hopelessness. Many current French stage pieces offer man “no exit” (to use Sartre’s famous phrase) but so clearly distinguish the nature of his malady from naïve and false diagnoses that they constitute a first step toward cure.

For example, Jean Anouilh’s Les Poissons Rouges strikes directly at the fundamental Marxist fallacy that man’s problems, like the state, can “winnow away” through the establishment of a classless society. The hero of the play is, by his background, education, and upbringing, a superior person, and therefore all those who have contact with him wish to whittle him down to their size, by giving him a guilty conscience for having genuine ability. The message? Literary critic Poirot-Delpech rightly catches it: “The playwright is convinced that since innate differences are stronger than differences of wealth or social rank, there will always be one man who seems to be getting the best of it; he becomes the other man’s bourgeois and incurs his revenge.”

The Paris revival of Henry de Montherlant’s historical drama Malatesta stresses the self-deception of man. The despicable fifteenth-century condottiere and all those associated with him—“even those who are thought to be the salt of the earth” (these are the playwright’s words)—display “the generalized blindness of human beings. One should never forget that Julius Caesar, who was a genius, bequeathed enormous sums to his murderers.” Ionesco’s Amédée, subtitled “How to Get Rid of It” (i.e., a corpse that mysteriously appears in an apartment and then commences to grow in size until it completely fills the living space, brings the theatergoer an even more profound analysis: sin cannot be evaded, though humans try to do so either by assuming blasé pseudo-indifference or by childishly refusing to face up to the nightmare of their existence.

The lesson that honesty concerning oneself is the first step to salvation is preached in Un Sale Egoїste, starring Paul Meurisse as a superlative “dirty egoist.” He differs from others only in that he is willing to admit his egoism. His only close friend is the abbé (“someone I can understand: a true egoist,” declares the hero); after all, the “Christian martyrs weren’t unselfish—they got an exultation from sacrifice.” Precisely: Christianity does not idealistically pretend that unselfishness is possible; it ruthlessly faces it so that it can be redeemed. At the end of the play the possibility of such redemption opens to the egoist through the love of a girl who, like him, sees the heart of man as it really is.

Are Paris operettas superficial? Some, surely, but not all. Tino Rossi, a popular singer for over a generation, has been starring as Le Marchand de Soleil at the Mogador, and he merchandises not only sun but pre-evangelism. The merchant is a Christ-figure who turns “deus ex machina” into a way of life! He appears out of nowhere to solve the insoluble again and again. Effectively, the production works into it Rossi’s most famous song, the Christmas tune, “Petit Papa Noël.” Sing the children of this world to Father Christmas, the Christ-figure par excellence: “When you come down from heaven with your gifts by the thousands, don’t forget me. I haven’t been very good, but please forgive me.” Our Lord tells us that the door to the Kingdom is open only to those who become as little children: children in recognizing their need, children in seeking God’s answer outside themselves. The Paris theater, by God’s common grace, silhouettes these truths.

NEWS

Without outside aid to non-public schools, the “burden will be intolerable,” warned the head of the nation’s Roman Catholic bishops last month after a closed-door meeting of five U. S. cardinals and thirty-seven bishops to discuss their parochial schools’ number-one crisis: money.

A member of the U. S. Catholic Conference’s education committee, speaking about the Chicago meeting, indicated that many of the prelates feel the time has come for a unified posture on Catholic school problems. Not surprisingly, therefore, the education committee urged a “vigorous campaign” to obtain aid for non-public schools. The emphasis will be on governmental aid, in an effort to bail out sinking parochial schools all but immersed in red ink.

Just how bad things are is seen in statistics compiled by the USCC education department and the National Catholic Educational Association:

In the past five years, Catholic school enrollments have declined about 22 per cent. If this trend continues, the peak enrollment of 1965 will be cut in half by 1975. The total number of Catholic elementary and secondary schools dropped 7 per cent—from 12,814 to 11,937—from 1967–68 to 1969–70. Enrollment during the same period dropped from 5,215,598 to 4,672,510, a fall of 12 per cent at the elementary level and 4 per cent for high schools.

A recent study shows that while enrollments are slipping, annual operating costs of the schools zoomed $200 million, increasing overall expenditures to $1.4 billion for all U. S. Catholic schools in 1969–70. Tuition payments—traditional bulwark in Catholic school financing—now account for only one-third of elementary-school costs and three-fourths of those for secondary schools.

The average elementary pupil-cost is now $200 a year against $145 in 1968. The secondary-school cost is $435 per pupil, compared to $335 in 1968. (The average public-school cost is $717.)

One area hard hit by the cost squeeze is Detroit, home of John Cardinal Dearden, head of the Catholic hierarchy. Mass closings of parish schools there appeared imminent last month until the Michigan Supreme Court ordered a “hold” on an amendment blocking aid to parochial schools. While parochial-school administrators were biting their nails over the matter, the court was expected to debate and rule on the controversial amendment’s constitutionality by mid-January.

The hold order in effect freezes the parochial financial situation in Michigan, allowing continued “shared time” with public schools, and other auxiliary programs, but prohibiting the state from forking over any of the $22 million in aid awarded non-public schools as part of a legislature-passed omnibus education bill.

Cardinal Dearden, alarmed at the prospect of one-third to one-half of the state’s 629 parochial schools closing immediately if the amendment is allowed to stand—and perhaps most all shutting down within a year—predicted that 105 of the worst-strapped schools would close in any case, probably by June.

Meanwhile, in Maryland, a kind of parochaid scholarship plan was to go before the state legislature this month. Initial details of the plan—proposed by the Commission to Study State Aid to Non-Public Education, a panel named in March of 1969 by Maryland governor Marvin Mandel—were skimpy, and the governor’s office refused to discuss the plan until its publication.

Basically, it would provide every student in a non-public school with at least $50, even if his family was wealthy. Larger amounts of scholarship money would be awarded to families of lower incomes, with a suggested maximum of $230 per child for a family having a gross income of $4,000. An application for aid could be filed only after the student was enrolled in a private school, and if approved, the funds would be sent directly to the school. Initial state cost estimates were around $14 million a year.

Similar scholarship or voucher plans have been considered in other states; none has been upheld by the courts on a long-term basis because the principle of separation of church and state was seen to be at stake.

In predicted opposition, Stanley Lowell of Americans United for Separation of Church and State called the plan “simply another device to circumvent the ban on public money used for private schools,” and a means of subsidizing selected schools that determine their student body. Stiff opposition to the measure was expected, including a minority report from the panel recommending the plan to Mandel.

Catholics are feeling the parochial money-pinch elsewhere, too. In the Buffalo, New York, diocese—reportedly $16 million in debt—a cutback considered drastic will close ten schools. Five are largely black inner-city elementary schools. Vermont’s Catholic bishop warned the governor that without government aid all Catholic schools in the state will eventually close. The bishops of the four Louisiana dioceses ordered a financial study of the school situation after the state supreme court ruled out state aid to non-public schools. And in Massachusetts, nuns teaching in Catholic schools reportedly demanded a 100 per cent pay increase, from $1,200 to $2,400 annually.

Several implications of broad interest emerge from the crisis:

• With the decrease of teachers from religious orders, teaching salaries have skyrocketed. In turn, tuition costs are becoming prohibitive for many families. Blacks and other minority groups are hardest hit.

• Massive parochial-school closings will cause a huge influx of students into public schools in some areas, perhaps swamping those already hard pressed to provide quality education.

• Courts and legislatures will feel increased pressure to permit some forms (perhaps indirect and highly sophisticated) of aid to non-public schools as more and more voices declare public assistance “inevitable.”

• Clarification of the traditional U. S. guarantee of church-state separation will be imperative; arguments for and against federal aid to education will become louder, and perhaps petulant.

• Many Catholics seem less inclined than previously to see benefits from sending their children to parochial schools, thus weakening the role Catholic schools play in the teaching mission of the church.

• The future of Protestant schools is entwined with that of the Catholic system.

Is public aid the sine qua non for parochial schools? In an unguarded moment during a press briefing two years ago, Chicago bishop William E. McManus, head of the USCC education committee, implied that well-heeled Catholics could pay for their schools—if they put them ahead of trips to Europe, color TV, and other “necessities” (see May 9, 1969, issue, page 41).

The official stance, however, is summed up in the words of Archbishop Humberto Medeiros of Boston last month at a public, hearing: “Unless prompt effective financial aid is forthcoming to the children in Catholic schools, the Commonwealth may find itself in the gravest financial crisis of its history.” Such public aid, he concluded, “has long been our just due.”

Accc Power Struggle

At year-end it was a question of who would make the next move for control of the American Council of Christian Churches. Carl McIntire, who claims to have been elected president (see November 20 issue, page 44), got three banks to freeze ACCC accounts but was unsuccessful in an attempt to divert mail. ACCC general secretary John E. Millheim said new gifts have provided enough income to cover current operating expenses.

The ACCC recently acquired a forty-six-acre site in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, and moved its offices there in November. The property, which is also being used as a research and seminar center, will be dedicated in May, Millheim said.

Blacker Than Thou

Who is the blackest candidate of all?

That is a recurring campaign issue among contestants—including three black ministers—vying to become the District of Columbia’s first non-voting delegate to Congress. (Seventy per cent of the District’s residents are black; 94.8 per cent of the school population is black.)

Two of the clerics—Walter E. Fauntroy and Channing E. Phillips—and five other hopefuls fought for the Democratic nomination in a special primary this week. The third minister, Douglas E. Moore, will run as an independent in the March 23 general election.

Fauntroy, 37, is pastor of New Bethel Baptist Church in Washington. He is the chief lobbyist for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and head of the local SCLC chapter, coordinated the Poor People’s March on Washington, served as vice-chairman of the D. C. city council.

Phillips, 42, is president of the Housing Development Corporation. He resigned under pressure last summer as pastor of Lincoln Temple United Church of Christ; the middle-class black congregation disliked the militant pulpit guests Phillips invited and his political involvement. He led the D. C. delegation to the 1968 Democratic national convention and, as a favorite-son candidate, became the first Negro nominee for president in the nation’s history.

Moore, also 42, is pastor of Calloway United Methodist Church in nearby Arlington. He heads the controversial Black United Front, which last year demanded “reparations” from several Washington churches. Formerly he taught high school in the Congo.

Fauntroy, while publicly disowning blacker-than-thou strategy, claimed he had been out front in the civil-rights struggle “as no one else in this campaign has been.” Bishop Smallwood E. Williams of the Bible Way Church endorsed Fauntroy in rallies: “He won’t Tom.”

Bruce Terris, white leader of Phillips’s campaign, complained that Fauntroy attempted to portray Phillips as the “whiter” candidate. “Our campaign,” he countered, “is as black as theirs.” He also denounced anti-Semitic leaflets that were circulated in Moore’s rallies. The tracts publicized a pro-Israel ad Phillips had signed in the New York Times; they said American blacks should instead support the Arab cause in the Middle East. Moore disclaimed responsibility for the pamphlets but charged that whites had “bought” Phillips.

Fauntroy contended that if elected he could gain the most favors for the District from Congress: “I have in my pocket the votes of thirty-five to forty congressmen who were elected with black votes in close elections; they will do what I say.”

But, said Phillips, Congress is no civil-rights organization; it takes political savvy, something he gained as a close associate of the late Robert F. Kennedy.

Fauntroy talks freely with newsmen about his faith and often points to his conversion experience as a teen-ager. “In all my campaigns I have tried to put God first,” he affirms.

EDWARD E. PLOWMAN

One of the paradoxes of the Christian life is that victory must be preceded by surrender, not a once-for-all act of submission of the will to Jesus Christ but a daily surrender of heart, mind, and body to the Lordship of Christ.

This is one of the hardest of all lessons to learn because of our tendency to feel that in the lesser things of life we can get along rather well, and that only in the “big things” do we need help. But the machinations of Satan often insinuate themselves in what may at the time seem to us trivial matters, and before we realize what has happened we have gone down in defeat before the ever-present and always clever Enemy of our souls.

We are in a continuous warfare with Satan and must fight daily battles against his wiles. This is a fact, however much we may ignore or belittle it. What is also a fact is that there is a way to overcome—a God-provided way. We have only ourselves to blame if we pass up the whole armor of God and instead strike out on our own, only to go down to ignominious defeat.

Beware of Satan! If he cannot get you by open assault, he will booby-trap you where you least expect it. His cleverness is beyond ordinary human intelligence, and his devices are as varied as the persons he seeks to destroy.

J. B. Phillips’s translation of Ephesians 6:12 is frightening (unless we look beyond to the assurance in First John 4:4—“Little children, you are of God, and have overcome them; for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world”), for in this passage is revealed the Enemy with whom we have to deal: “Our fight is not against any physical enemy: it is against organizations and powers that are spiritual. We are up against the unseen power that controls this dark world, and spiritual agents from the very headquarters of evil.”

Victory over such odds—how?

The fatal mistake of many Christians is to forget the nature of the Enemy and to think he can be dealt with on human terms. The Apostle Paul lays it on the line: “The truth is that, although of course we lead normal lives, the battle we are fighting is on the spiritual level. The very weapons we use are not those of human warfare but powerful in God’s warfare for the destruction of the enemy’s strongholds. Our battle is to bring down every deceptive fantasy and every imposing defense that men erect against the true knowledge of God. We even fight to capture every thought until it acknowledges the authority of Christ” (2 Cor. 10:3–5, Phillips).

Victory? Who is sufficient to fight such a spiritual warfare but those who begin every battle surrendered to the One who alone can bring the victory?

The battles are so varied, and the warfare so continuous, that this supernatural and superhuman conflict can be resolved only by daily use of the “whole armor of God” for protection, the “shield of faith” as the movable means of defense “which can quench every burning missile the enemy hurls at you,” and the “sword of the Spirit, the Word of God” (Eph. 6:11–17, Phillips).

Then Paul tells us to keep in close communication with headquarters—“Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication” (Eph. 6:18). God has made every provision for Christians to live lives of victory, and it is up to us to make use of what he provides.

Dealing as we are with a wily enemy, we must always remain alert, for he does not attack at the expected place or against our supposedly strong points. He may be disguised as an angel of light or he may attack like a roaring lion; only a Spirit-given alertness can enable us to distinguish between one of his devices and some innocent occurrence. It is through an attitude of constant prayer (keeping the channel open) that we can remain alert to the multiplied variations of Satan’s wiles.

In the army, obedience is required of all soldiers, and obedience on the part of the Christian is necessary if he is to be victorious. Hindered by the natural limitations that are a part of our earthly existence, we must avail ourselves of that supernatural wisdom which God alone can impart, and this must be coupled with obedience to his revealed will.

We perceive only the immediate and the “seeable.” God sees all the past, the present, and the future at the same time, and we must obey in the light of his sure leading if we are to outwit our deadly enemy. The Bible lays down principles of living that reflect God’s will for us, and obedience to those principles is imperative. As the war with Satan continues and we find ourselves in one battle after another, we will find that obedience to God’s leading means not only victory but peace of mind.

The Apostle John wrote, “We know that we are of God, and the whole world is in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). The Chinese translation of this verse says, “and the entire world nests under the hand of the evil one.”

This being true, how utterly foolish to think we can go it alone. Often the new Christian thinks that his battles are all won and that his new life will be a journey of unalloyed peace. But the war has only begun. Although the enemy is doomed, he continues his attacks with unremitting venom. Perhaps the greatest folly of the organized church and the individual Christian is to ignore, deny, or downgrade the person and work of Satan. This folly gives the devil and his minions a field day. Only by recognizing the reality of the warfare can we hope to be victorious.

Satan attacks through the flesh—our human nature with its natural tendency to sin—and from this none of us can be completely free this side of eternity.

He attacks through the world—the evil that is all about us, often appearing alluring and quite innocent. How we need the warning, “Do not love the world or the things in the world.… For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world, passes away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides for ever” (1 John 2:15–17).

That Satan instigates specific attacks against God’s servants is nowhere more clearly shown than in Job’s experience. And that which the devil did millenniums ago he continues to do today in ways devised to attack us at our weakest point.

A soldier salutes and reports for duty to his commanding officer. A soldier of Jesus Christ salutes his Lord and in so doing indicates complete surrender to him and to his leadership in the battles of life. Having accepted the Gospel with its message of rescue, help, and victory, he takes to himself of the “whole armor of God.”

Are you an unhappy Christian because you are living on a plane of constant defeat? This is not what God wants for you. Not only does he offer protection; he is waiting to give you the guidance necessary to walk through a hostile world. All you need to do is look to him for wisdom, keep the channels clear, and hear and obey him when his Spirit speaks.

Spiritual victory comes through surrender. There is no other way.

EDITORIALS

If Johnny can’t read by the time he is eight, that’s bad. But if Johnny can read and cannot understand, that may be worse yet.

Learning problems, especially in children, have been getting considerable attention in the fields of medicine, psychology, and education. The layman speaks of a mental block, or, in the parlance of the day, a hangup. Experts know it’s no joke: some individuals are seemingly unable to perceive certain things, even though all their sense organs function properly. Such perceptual impairment is now often thought to be of neurological origin, but is not to be confused with mental retardation.

The Scriptures, interestingly enough, recognize this phenomenon. There are repeated references in both the Old and New Testaments to having functioning eyes and ears but not being able to see or hear. Sometimes the failure is traced to what the King James translators called “hard hearts.” Elsewhere the trouble is not specifically diagnosed.

If we want to make evangelistic efforts more productive, it might be well to take so-called learning problems into wider account. Man without God is dead in his sins; the object of evangelism is to present the Gospel in a way that, quickened by the Spirit, he will respond. Good Christian witnesses are ever alert to the presentation process, aware that sometimes the message is not easily absorbed. How is it, for example, that a child can be brought up in the church, yet be unable to defend in his own words the most basic doctrines of the Christian faith? Why are supposedly evangelically oriented young people so gullible to secularistic presuppositions? Why do men sit under gospel preaching Sunday after Sunday and yet not respond with committed lives? Why are pastors unable to plug in their congregations and get them moving?

Educators say that boys and girls with perceptual handicaps manage to compensate—to a point. When the potential of their compensation runs out, however, they become failures. Could this be happening in the spiritual dimension?

Many conditions can hinder unbelievers from putting their trust in the Saviour, among them affluence, indifference, and hypocrisy and lack of compassion in the Church. But there are some unbelievers who are not kept away by these hindrances—their problem is that they want to believe and seemingly can’t! It is a challenge to Christians to try to understand and overcome this difficulty.

From a purely psychological standpoint, it should be enough merely to convince a person that Christian conversion is in his own best interests. Wouldn’t the sheer survival and self-preservation instincts then drive him to the Saviour? But as many an evangelist can tell you, this line of argument proves inadequate. Strangely, people have a hard time understanding that spiritual regeneration is for their own well-being.

Evangelical strategy is perhaps too often keyed to disseminating messages; thought processes, where learning problems occur, are neglected. Sheer data taken in through the senses do not necessarily persuade. A person must interact with this input and must correlate information for himself. He must sort it out in his own mind, clarify it, and recognize its relevance for him before it becomes enough a part of him to affect his behavior.

Evangelism normally starts at the sense level either through the reading of Scripture or through some form of exposition of it that God through the Holy Spirit uses to convict men of their lostness. Fortunately, evangelism in our time draws upon an increasingly impressive array of empirical data. A rationally justifiable faith is a more viable option today than it has ever been. Young evangelical philosophers are demonstrating that biblical theism is as intellectually competitive as any secular or religious system. The excuse that orthodox Christianity cannot satisfy the mind can be buried.

But seeing is not believing. It is not necessarily true that people, given light, will find their own Way. And, contrary to what contemporary creed-writers say, vocabulary is not that big an obstacle. People, the young in particular, need to be taught to think things through for themselves. Effective counselors find it is at this point that learning problems are encountered. These mean struggles. A tedious process may preface the heart-warming response, “Hey, preach, you’re comin’ through.”

One-shot proclamations of the Gospel are seldom adequate. We owe our fellow human beings something more than a tract or five-minute testimony, helpful as those can be. Even a long string of empirical inducements, the kind the advertiser relies on, may fail, and there may be a temptation to resort to emotional appeals. A good feeling, however, does not solve learning problems. It may merely compensate for a time.

In some instances, inability to comprehend Christian truth is self-induced; an unbeliever may simply not want to think his way through. He may also experience intellectual difficulties because he has accepted erroneous data as truth. Working through a learning problem in the spiritual sense may well require the uncovering of presupposed positions and preconceptions of which the person may be unaware.

Many spiritual problems are traceable to the will, and will never be resolved, but some are outside the will. Whether in the case of the latter there is some “physical” defect involved or not, we can nonetheless supply therapy. Christians need to invest resources into development of new means of reaching people who do not respond to traditional approaches. God can repair damage and get the message through, and men can be instruments in the process.

What Are Seminaries For?

The president of Garrett Theological Seminary let his hair down during a recent visit with alumni in the Seattle area. What he had to say was widely reported by Religious News Service and served to show why there is so much confusion today about the proper role of the churches.

“We have members of our student body who have not yet professed the Christian faith,” said Dr. Merlyn W. Northfelt. Many have had little or nothing to do with churches and are attending seminary simply out of idealism. One of the new purposes stated by the seminary faculty “really is evangelism,” Dr. Northfelt declared. Yet he is hopeful that the students will be better pastors than those of the last ten or fifteen years.

This conception of the seminary as a place for converting the unbeliever rather than a training ground for regenerate young people called by God into his service seems a precarious strategy. Why Dr. Northfelt assents to it is especially puzzling in view of another of his observations. He suggested that “the mainstream Protestant churches today are suffering because of very low admission standards for the last fifteen or twenty years. There wasn’t enough commitment required on the part of persons who were coming in.”

If he expects Christian commitment of church members, as he should, how much more should he expect it from his seminarians? And if the churches now are suffering from wide-open membership, what will it be like if more and more unbelievers are given pastoral responsibilities?

1971: An Un-Preview

Following are headlines whose non-appearance in 1971 we guarantee:

POPE MARRIES: Bride, former nun, says he tells the funniest stories.

SOUTHERN BAPTISTS JOIN COCU.

COCU DISBANDS: Calling institutional ecumenicity “passé.” COCU participants vote to continue own traditions in “spirit of common concern.”

HOMOSEXUAL CHURCHMEN DENOUNCE NEW MORALITY.

GREEK ORTHODOX ANNOUNCE MASSIVE PROGRAM OF EVANGELISM: Hundreds of jeweled icons go on auction block to underwrite program.

BILLY GRAHAM ACCEPTS APOLOGY FROM CARL MCINTIRE.

WEDEL RESIGNS FROM NCC: First woman president says church leadership basically man’s job.

COLLEGIANS APPLAUD RELEVANCE OF CHURCH.

SOUTH AFRICAN CHURCHMEN SCORE “SEPARATE DEVELOPMENT”: Dutch Reformed leaders call on black Africans to find their identity within integrated congregations.

ALLEGRO’S NEW ‘HISTORIC JESUS’ STUDY VINDICATES NEW TESTAMENT.

TOM SKINNER JOINS BOARD OF DIRECTORS OF BOB JONES UNIVERSITY.

Whether the absence of these headlines is to be viewed with relief or regret we leave thoughtfully to our readers.

Poland’S Mini-Revolution

Poles know how to die wonderfully. But, my children, it is also necessary that Poles know how to live wonderfully. One dies only once, and becomes famous quickly. But one lives in difficulties, in pain, in suffering, in sorrow, for many years. And this is the greatest heroism in the present time.

—Stefan Cardinal Wyszynski

One hesitates to call any bloody uprising a “success,” but the riots that swept the Baltic coast of Poland last month had effects that will encourage oppressed people everywhere. Whether substantial changes ensue undoubtedly depends largely on the reaction of Moscow. Some had thought the Czech riots in 1968 were a harbinger of spring, but Kremlin intervention drove that land back into the throes of a bitter winter.

The big shakeup in Poland’s political power structure seems to be a more promising development. Its scope and swiftness suggests that things were coming to a head and that the riots merely served as a convenient and timely instrument for a major turnover. Why party boss Wladyslaw Gomulka allowed a hike in food prices ten days before Christmas is a question historians might well pursue. It cost him his job, and pictures of the burned-out party headquarters at Gdansk will not soon be forgotten. Some significant concessions that would give more freedom to the Polish people, at least temporarily, may be in the offing.

One of the first promises made by the new Polish premier, Piotr Jaroszewicz, was that he would seek “full normalization of relations” with the Roman Catholic Church. The previous government frequently clashed with Stefan Cardinal Wyszynski, though it must be remembered that it was Gomulka who, when he came to power in 1956, freed the primate of Poland and other members of the hierarchy imprisoned by the Stalinist government.

In a way, the Poles are a deeply religious people, and traditional Roman Catholic beliefs still prevail among the masses. Hardly a breath of the fresh air from the window opened by Pope John has reached Poland, which is both bad and good. There is little of an ecumenical climate to diminish the widespread, non-biblical veneration of the Black Madonna. On the other hand, the status quo protects Catholics in Poland from the new heresies of secularism that have taken a firm hold in some sectors of the Roman church. An easing of restrictions against the church, if it comes, should encourage new evangelical outreach in Poland.

Interestingly, only a month before the revolt the World Council of Churches had announced the signing of what is called a “unique” agreement with Polish officials. The pact was said to be aimed primarily at easing the plight of older people who are ill. The World Council is to contribute $252,000 the first year, if it can raise the money, and the Polish government is to supply $80,000 “capital costs and the entire institutional running costs.” The project will be implemented by a government agency and the Polish Ecumenical Council. The basic anxiety raised here is whether Communists will use the benefits to gain influence among the small non-Catholic churches.

Bju And The Irs

We fervently disagree with the views on race held by our fellow Christians at Bob Jones University. In our opinion, it is clearly contrary to both the letter and the spirit of the Scriptures to exclude persons on grounds of race from participating in Christian organizations for which they are otherwise qualified. Especially in these times it is incredible to hear a well-known Christian institution that prides itself on its faithfulness to the Word of God proclaim that the Bible teaches racial discrimination.

However, we think the Internal Revenue Service has overstepped its bounds in threatening to withdraw BJU from the list of organizations that are tax-exempt and to which contributions are tax-deductible (see January 1 issue, page 39). The government of course has the right to remove from this favorable tax status certain classes of organizations, or certain organizations in a class, whose good faith it has reason to doubt. Hence private, segregated schools started in anticipation of public-school desegregation would understandably be refused the tax-deduction benefit. But BJU has practiced its racial exclusion for a long time, and it maintains that this practice is part of its religious beliefs. We think the IRS action impinges upon freedom of religion. It is not a question of government grants to BJU, which won’t get them anyway. And while the tax-deduction privilege is indeed an indirect subsidy, all of us subsidize religious views we deplore. If the IRS were to rule against this school because of its position on blacks, what would prevent it from ruling against churches that do not admit women into their leadership ranks? We are not here dealing with the state’s right to protect its citizens from what might be harmful practices, such as snake-handling, or refusing blood transfusions for one’s children, or polygamy; blacks are not in this sense harmed by being refused admission to BJU.

The federal government must pursue the dismantling of previously government-sponsored or -abetted segregation vigorously, but at the same time it must stop short (with rare exceptions) of encroaching upon religious convictions of long-standing organizations.

Showing Compassion (Continued)

What does it mean to be compassionate? In this, as in so many other questions concerning our lives, the example of Jesus is recorded in the Gospels for us to follow. In a previous editorial we looked at the times when Jesus is said to have had compassion on multitudes (December 4 issue, page 27). In addition, four passages explicitly speak of his having compassion on individuals. Two blind men cried out to Jesus to give them sight, and he did (Matt. 20:29–34). A leper came to him to be cleansed, and he was (Mark 1:40–42). In both instances, those who approached Jesus firmly believed he was able to heal them.

Another time, the father of a demon-possessed boy, having seen the disciples of Christ fail in their attempts to cast out the demon, came to Jesus, but with less than full assurance that Jesus could succeed (Mark 9:17–25). “If you can do anything …” the man pled, and when Jesus told him that his belief was the key factor, the father replied “I believe!” But he hastened to declare his honest reservations by adding, “Help my unbelief!” Jesus expelled the demon. One does not restrict feelings of compassion to those who meet certain requirements.

Indeed, to act compassionately does not require that the recipient take the initiative. As Jesus came upon a funeral procession, he observed the need of the widow whose only son had died (Luke 7:12–15). Without any request from her, without any evidence that she believed he was able to do such a dramatic miracle as restoring her son to life, he acted.

The one who is compassionate does what he can to relieve the suffering of others, not just when they request it but at other times as well. Although we cannot miraculously restore sight to the blind or wholeness to lepers or life to the dead, there are yet many things we can do to comfort the afflicted, if only we let compassion move us.

Trying The Spirit

A Theology of the Holy Spirit: The Pentecostal Experience and the New Testament Witness, by Frederick Dale Bruner (Eerdmans, 1970. 390 pp., $8.95), is reviewed by Watson E. Mills, associate professor of philosophy and religion, Averett College, Danville, Virginia.

Here we have a theological “case study” that compares the present Pentecostal movement with the New Testament witness to the experience of the Holy Spirit. Increasingly, the theological mood of the twentieth century is becoming ripe for a rediscovery of the importance and centrality of the Holy Spirit. The various Pentecostal groups are ready to be heard, and Dr. Bruner believes that if one looks beyond the traditional stereotype of Pentecostalism he can find significant implications for Christianity as a whole. Bruner, professor of systematic theology at Union Seminary in the Philippines, is a graduate of the University of Hamburg, where he availed himself of the inexhaustible resources of the Missionsakademie.

Part One deals with the doctrine of the Holy Spirit in contemporary Pentecostal experience. First Bruner gives a general introduction to the movement as well as essential background materials, including a helpful distinction between Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal groups. Chapters three and four treat the Pentecostal baptism in the Holy Spirit and the gifts of the Spirit. There is a definite attempt to de-emphasize glossolalia as the identity symbol for Pentecostalism. Perhaps the author sees this phenomenon as a fad, but more probably he recognizes that, seen in proper perspective, speaking in tongues is only one symbol for the greater reality—the presence of the Spirit in power.

Part Two presents the Holy Spirit in the New Testament witness. It is a fine example of sound biblical exegesis that is both critical and easily readable. The difficult Acts 2:38 passage is treated (following W. F. Flemington) as an incarnational joining of the divine and the human, of the Spirit and baptism, in one great event. Bruner asserts that Luke is calling for neither a “spiritual” nor a “sacramental” baptism in the usual sense, but rather for both; therefore he is an incarnationalist rather than either a spiritualist or a sacramentalist. Beyond Acts, Bruner’s exegetical studies take him through the Corinthian correspondence, Galatians, Colossians, and First John.

Some Christians might wish Bruner had given more attention to developing an ethical content for his doctrine of the Holy Spirit. What difference in our behavior does the Spirit make? After concluding that “power” is one of the “valid criteria of the presence of the Holy Spirit,” he asserts that the ancestral pedigree of Pentecostalism can be traced through instances of tongues-speaking in, for example, the Old Testament and late Judaism.

Included in this volume is a definitive bibliography (thirty-four pages) on the Pentecostal movement arranged under three headings: (1) primary sources for understanding the Pentecostal movement; (2) secondary and interpretative sources for understanding its background; (3) biblical and theological sources for understanding the New Testament doctrine of the Holy Spirit. Eighteen additional pages of documents give some indication of the source upon which the Pentecostal doctrine of the Holy Spirit rests.

Here is an honest attempt to compare the Pentecostal experience with the conclusions of solid biblical exegesis. Bruner is unlikely to win approval of either Pentecostal or anti-Pentecostal believers, but he has something to teach both groups. The reader ought to realize that the Pentecostalism that Bruner is comparing with the Bible is the movement as he understands it. Others, both within and without, would see it differently. Perhaps Rudolph Otto was right when in 1938 he remarked: “That … [the] church has lost its ‘charisma,’ that men look back to it as a thing of past times, that men make it and the inbreaking kingdom belonging to it trivial by allegories, does not show that … [the] church is not on a higher level, but is a sign of its decay” (The Kingdom of God and the Son of Man).

The Pentecostal movement may fulfill its destiny by summoning the Church to appropriate once again the power and resources of the Spirit. But this will be no small task!

An Answer To Drugs

High on the Campus, by Gordon R. McLean and Haskell Bowen (Tyndale House, 1970, 132 pp., $2.95), is reviewed by L. D. Kennedy, chairman, Department of Literature and Languages, Campbellsville College, Campbellsville, Kentucky.

As the alarming drug craze continues to spread its tentacles into communities, schools, and homes throughout our country, it is imperative that youngsters, parents, and educators be well informed about the subject. Disdain, exaggeration, and scare tactics are not nearly so effective against drug usage as truth and genuine concern. “If someone had placed something like this in my hands two years ago,” wrote a young former addict who contributed the foreward to this book, “I might never have been involved with drugs.”

High on the Campus offers some straightforward and unemotional information on student drug abuse. Gordon R. McLean and Haskell Bowen have had considerable personal experience in prògrams for rehabilitating student addicts, and in writing the book they received help from many other people, such as judges, narcotics officers, and school superintendents. Youth organizations such as Youth for Christ/Campus Life were especially helpful.

Using case histories, the authors discuss why students take drugs. Curiosity, boredom, peer-group pressures, and insecurity are strong motivations, and teachers and parents may unwittingly be contributing factors. “Unrealistic, unemotional, and dull” school work contributes to boredom. Weak-willed, permissive parents who offer “material comfort in place of friendship and personal concern” contribute to the youngster’s sense of insecurity.

The authors also give detailed descriptions of how dope is pushed, how users may be detected, and how they may be helped to kick the habit. A glossary explains more than 150 words and phrases associated with drugs.

The power of Christ to free and transform enslaved lives is thrillingly portrayed. The disillusioned addict needs to be convinced that he can find “more lasting satisfaction in a relationship with the Lord than any drug ever offered.… God is the ultimate high. He’s a trip that never ends.” Once he has experienced Christ’s redemption, he will still be a pusher, but he will be “pushing something new”—the Gospel of deliverance!

In The Journals

We welcome the appearance of what has the potential to become a major tool for research, the Religious Periodicals Index. In it the articles in more than 200 American magazines—popular, scholarly, and in-between, from a broad theological spectrum—are indexed by subjects. The first issue covers January–March, 1970 in 62 pages (1556 Third Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10028; $15 per year).

Another Carl McIntire, the son of the victory marcher, calls for a disentangling of Christianity and Americanism in a provocative article, “Quitting the American Way of Death,” in Vanguard, December, 1970, pp. 7–11, 22 (Box 2131, Station B, St. Catherines, Ontario; single copy $.50). This new publication provides a forum for younger Christians who want to speak out on what they think is a truly biblical approach to modern society.

Fourteen messages at the August, 1970, Convocation of United Methodists for Evangelical Christianity in Dallas are published as the October–December, 1970, issue of Good News (5 N. Douglas, Elgin, Ill. 60120; single copy $1.25). Some of the titles: “The Crisis in Our Church,” “Social Reform: Evangelical Imperative,” “Strategies for Solution of the Crisis.”

The December, 1970, issue of the Journal of the American Scientific Affiliation has seven major articles answering the question “Is Man Only a Complex Machine?” (324½ S. 2nd St., Mankato, Minn. 56001; single copy $1.25). Invaluable assistance for those confronting materialistic teaching.

One of the best evangelical scholarly periodicals is the annual Tyndale Bulletin (39 Bedford Sq., London W.C. 1, England; $3). Articles in the 1970 issue include “Can We Reproduce the Exegesis of the New Testament?” by R. Longenecker, pp. 3–38; “The Messianic Secret in Mark,” by J. Dunn, pp. 92–117; and “Context and Content in the Interpretation of Isaiah 7:14” by J. Motyer, pp. 118–28.

Four articles on Paul compose the November, 1970, issue of Crux (745 Mt. Pleasant Rd., Toronto 7, Ontario; single copy $.85). What Paul said about the resurrection body, his mission, his philosophy, and the relevance for today of some of his views on Jews, slaves, and women are considered.

A topic that has been avoided by many because of popular extremes is dealt with admirably by John Stek in “Biblical Typology Yesterday and Today,” Calvin Theological Journal, November, 1970, pp. 133–62 (3233 Barton St. S.E., Grand Rapids, Mich. 49506; single copy $1). Stek compares Fairbairn and von Rad as a prelude to his own views.

Newly Published

Pat Boone and the Gift of Tongues, by James D. Bales (Gospel Teachers Publications, 1970, 378 pp., $6.95). The most prominent member of the Church of Christ (non-instrumental) who has espoused speaking in tongues is roundly (some would say viciously) taken to task with supposedly scriptural refutation by a doctrine teacher at Harding College.

An Archaeologist Follows the Apostle Paul, by James L. Kelso (Word, 1970, 142 pp., $3.95). A basic introduction (with photographs) to the world, the missionary efforts, the “genius” of Paul.

Teilhard de Chardin: An Analysis and Assessment, by D. Gareth Jones (Eerdmans, 1970, 72 pp., paperback, $1.25). A helpful introduction by an evangelical to a widely read neo-Catholic theologian.

Evangelism Now, edited by George M. Wilson (World Wide, 1970, 231 pp., $4.95). Twenty-five of the messages to the U. S. Congress on Evangelism, Minneapolis, 1969. All but one or two of the nineteen speakers are leading evangelicals from a variety of denominations. Public, school, and private libraries should have this volume.

Jesus—Human and Divine, by H. D. McDonald (Zondervan, 1968, 144 pp., $3.95). The first American edition of a valuable introductory study of New Testament Christology by a London Bible College professor.

The Beginnings of the Church in the New Testament, by Hahn, Strobel, and Schweizer (Augsburg, 1970, 104 pp., paperback, $2.25). Three technical essays on pre- and post-Easter discipleship.

Nine O’Clock in the Morning, by Dennis J. Bennett (Logos, 1970, 209 pp., $3.95). One of the “fathers” of the neo-Pentecostal movement, an Episcopal clergyman, tells his story.

The Bible and Modern Doubt, by Mack B. Stokes (Revell, 1970, 279 pp., $5.95). Assuming the major teachings of the Bible to be true, indispensable, and relevant, the author devotes himself to thoughtful and systematic interaction with the various modern objections to Christianity. Every area of doctrine is touched upon, but suggestively rather than comprehensively. One may disagree here or there with Stokes’s summaries of the biblical teachings or the contemporary challenges while at the same time profiting greatly from a careful reading of the book.

Life’s Greatest Trip …, by Arthur Blessitt (Word, 1970, 92 pp., $2.95). Pictures, poetry, and narration describe the author’s witness for Christ at “His Place” on Sunset Strip.

My Anchor Held, by Stephen R. Harris as told to James C. Hefley (Revell, 1970, 160 pp., $3.95). In simple language the intelligence officer of the Pueblo tells the story of the ship and the faith that sustained him.

The Continuing Quest: Opportunities, Resources and Programs in Post-Seminary Education, edited by James B. Hofrenning (Augsburg, 1970, 154 pp., $4.95). Not a directory but rather essays examining the need for and varieties of continuing education. All supervisors of ministers could be helped by this book.

God at Large, by Chad Walsh (Seabury, 1971, 136 pp., $3.95). This book is “intended not to discuss religious experience but to evoke it.” Instead, it verges on blasphemy, intermingling paganism with Christian doctrine.

Gone Is Shadows’ Child, by Jessie Gray Foy (Logos, 1970, 159 pp., $4.95). The story of a child schizophrenic from birth who was cured by vitamin treatment. Through the struggle, lasting fifteen years, the parents of this child found a solid faith in the “God who heals.”

The Bible, the Supernatural, and the Jews, by McCandlish Phillips (World, 1970, 366 pp., $7.95). Traces a terrifying supernatural plot, involving drugs and the occult, to seize Jewish minds for ruinous influence on the world. A powerful, sympathetic appeal for Jews to reckon with biblical realities and to receive Christ.

God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, by C. S. Lewis (Eerdmans, 1970, 346 pp., $6.95). Walter Hooper edited these witty, incisive essays never before published in book form.

Historical Protestantism: An Historical Introduction to Protestant Theology, by William A. Scott (Prentice-Hall, 1971, 229 pp., $6.95). A Catholic surveys the Reformation, Puritanism, Methodism, and liberalism, and Barth, Bonhoeffer, Bultmann, Niebuhr, and Tillich. The book is therefore regrettably deficient in presenting contemporary orthodox Protestantism.

Concordant Discord: The Interdependence of Faiths, by R. C. Zaehner (Oxford, 1970, 464 pp., $15). The Gifford Lectures for 1967–69 compared and contrasted the mystical traditions of India, China, Islam, and Christianity.

Getting Acquainted with God, by Otto H. Christensen (Review and Herald, 1970, 128 pp.). A helpful introduction to the doctrine of God.

All the Animals of the Bible Lands, by G. S. Cansdale (Zondervan, 1970, 272 pp., $6.95). Here they are, with pictures. An interesting, unusual book.

The Soul Patrol, by Bob Bartlett with Jorunn Oftedal (Logos, 1970, 170 pp., $3.95). Another story about another Teen Challenge—this one in Philadelphia.

Some of the above books will later be reviewed at greater length.

THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOMETRICS

I am a breaker of bruised reeds. But not intentionally. When she came in to see me, brimming with excitement, I didn’t realize how fragile her psyche was.

She was a young pre-ministerial student who had received her call to the ministry while reading an article on women’s liberation in Redbook magazine.

“Have you read about anthropometrics?” she asked.

“Vaguely,” I replied.

“Well, anthropometrics is the study of the human configuration with a view toward designing more comfortable objects for human use.”

She expanded on the topic with a story about the costly mistake of one of the automobile companies in importing bucket seats for American cars from its European subsidiary only to find that Americans have more ample proportions than Europeans and do not fit the same bucket.

Hopefully, she explained, anthropometrics will give us umbrellas that can be held without wrist strain and car seats that can be sat in comfortably on long trips, and in general will make living in the technological age physically more bearable.

“Well,” she said, brightening as she came to her real subject, “I’ve been thinking that anthropometrics should be applied to theology! Instead of starting with theology we should start with people. After all, theology exists for people, not people for theology. Theoology doesn’t have to be a Procrustean bed—it could be something really beautiful and supportive. She was now on the edge of her chair.

“In the past, theology was like a straight-backed church pew that hit people in all the wrong places.”

“Or like corrective shoes,” I interjected.

She looked doubtful about my contribution but plunged ahead. “All those ideas of taboos and divine judgment and fixed propositions about God strike the human soul in all the wrong places. As Christians we are called to affirm all things human. We should design theology to support the shape of the human soul, not restrict or remold it. After all, the Apostle Paul himself said that all things are lawful!”

A silent moment hung between us as, bright-eyed with excitement at what her own mind had brought forth, she waited for my reaction.

“It’s been done,” I said, perhaps with a touch of weariness. “Repeatedly.”

She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth as though to offer some rebuttal. Then I saw the enthusiasm drain from her eyes. Her face became expressionless. Mentally she had already left the presence of this Philistine. Instead of rebuttal, she offered apologies for troubling me with something so trite, and then left.

The moral of the story is: If you want to talk with youth, speak with the tongues of men and of angels but not with the voice of history.

ACCORD FOR BEETHOVEN

I was greatly encouraged by Frank Gaebelein’s fine article on Beethoven (Dec. 4). It was heartening to find that there are some evangelicals who realize the great spiritual significance of the works of the masters, even though these men in general did not verbally express theological orthodoxy.… It is difficult for me to believe that God is honored by the cult of mediocrity which permeates modern “Christian” music in general.

Palo Alto, Calif.

ON WITH THE REVOLUTION

Leighton Ford’s “Revolution for Heaven’s Sake” (Dec. 4) is excellent and should be widely read.

Bellflower, Calif.

Haven’t we had enough of the semantic games Christians play? Revolution is an “in” word; so we “relevant” evangelicals drag it to the baptismal font—and blur distinctions necessary for the clear thinking demanded in a confusing time. Why not rather a moratorium on this word, since our day has squeezed all its meaning out of it (as it has recently with love, peace, and law and order)? Slogans are for those with a bumper-sticker mentality.

Department of English

Westmont College

Santa Barbara, Calif.

MISPLACED CONGRESSMAN

You have erroneously listed Congressman J. Edward Roush from Indiana as a member of the Brethren in Christ Church (“The Ninety-second Congress: A Religious Census,” Dec. 4). He is a member of the Church of the United Brethren in Christ.… Though we work closely with the Brethren in Christ, and enjoy their fellowship, we are not at the present ready to relinquish Congressman Roush to them. Church of the United Brethren in Christ Bishop Huntington, Ind.

• Sorry, we erred. You may have him back.—ED.

REVISED VERSION

May we call your attention to some errors that appeared in “Behind the Iron Curtain: Bibles” (Nov. 20).

Mr. Van Capelleveen states that distribution of Bibles, Testaments, and Portions [complete books of the Bible] grew all over the world except in the United States. This should read “except in the Americas”.… In the same paragraph, Mr. Van Capelleveen states that the Bible Societies in Europe reported an increase of 115 per cent. This should read 1.5 per cent. This percentage and those that follow for Africa and Asia are not based on the distribution of Bibles, Testaments, and Portions as reported in his opening sentence. These percentages (1.5 per cent for Europe, 9.2 per cent for Africa, and 33.5 per cent for Asia) include the distribution of Selections [publications of less than a complete book of the Bible].… In the interest of accuracy it should be noted that total Scripture distribution throughout the United States during this period, including Selections, increased 19.2 per cent, an increase greater than those achieved by either Europe or Africa.…

Assistant Secretary

Education and Information

American Bible Society

New York, N. Y.

MORE FAILURE’ PRESCRIBED

In his concern regarding the polarization of the Church (Nov. 6), C. Philip Hinerman calls for a “great new movement of the Holy Spirit.… This is not to be a movement of emotionalism; we have already had that, and it has failed.”

I must remind Mr. Hinerman that during revival meetings at his church, the Park Avenue United Methodist Church in Minneapolis, in the 1930s and 1940s, … hundreds were born into the Kingdom under the preaching of men like Dr. John Thomas of Wales, and Dr. Paul Rees. There was much emotion, tears of sorrow and then of joy, as the Word was preached with power. Scores entered the ministry and foreign mission service, hundreds of others committed their lives to Christ. How many Christian homes resulted from these meetings only God knows. If this is failure, we need more of it in the churches today.

MIRIAM M. SWEET

East Ivanhoe, Victoria

Australia

MORE!

Thank you very much for the “Minister’s Workshop” in your October 23 issue. Many ministers will find “Focus on Pastoral Counseling” by Louis O. Caldwell a great help. Could we have more treatment of this very important part of the ministry today?

Ohura, New Zealand

Emil Brunner’s selection of the verse “The Word became flesh” as the basic theme of the original Christian Gospel is most puzzling. As Goethe indicated in his brilliant translation of John 1:1, the “word” is an unwarranted Hellenistic intellectualizing of a simple message suited to a peasant-oriented Palestinian sociology. No doubt Brunner’s choice can be explained by the cultured civilization of Zurich, but it ill accords with an ancient agricultural Sitz im Leben. Interpretation ought never to ignore the historical situation, for the research scholar can succeed only by his imaginative identification with the subject-matter.

One must proceed scientifically. To reconstruct the main message of the historical Jesus—and those who deny his existence, far from being scientific, betray their objective Hegelian indifference to the existential and historical subject—one must not, like the fundamentalists, assume the verbal and plenary inspiration of the Scriptures. Competent scholars no longer give a second thought, nor even a first thought, to the superstition of the misguided Protestant Reformation. The New Testament is a human, all too human, in fact a Jewish, book; and to ignore this fact is to be defeated before beginning.

When, now, a proper identification with the historical situation is made, it will easily be seen—and the evidence forthcoming is abundant—that Jesus is not a product of Greek philosophy, nor even of the mystery cults, but rather, in accord with the Jewish background, is an exponent of the Essene food laws that oppose the corpulent principles of the Pharisees. The early Church modified this original teaching of Jesus by introducing Hellenistic laxity, as was natural for those not nurtured in Judaism.

Therefore the basic text of the Gospels, after the rest has been demythologized and separated into its various layers is the profound socio-physiological principle of Matthew 6:16: “When ye fast, be not as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance.…”

This is why trust in God alleviates the food problem: “Take thought for your life, what ye shall eat [here the text is defective, probably because a very early copyist, or even the original author—whoever he was—ate too heavy a meal] or what ye shall drink.… Your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?”

A good diet is one that has the correct number of calories. Today stress is laid on reducing the number. In the historical situation it was also necessary to insist on enough calories. Therefore Jesus said (and this is one of those few places where we can be sure we almost have Jesus’ very words), “What man is there, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?” Jesus wanted the people to understand that stones have too few calories. Naturally too many calories are also bad; therefore the oily calorific serpent in the next verse must not be substituted for a Galilean fish.

Figs and grapes are healthful because of their vitamins, as Matthew 7:16 indicates; but swine are too too fatty (cf. ibid.8:32), and the meat spoils in the Palestinian temperatures.

That Jesus conscientiously followed his dietary regimen is seen in the fact that he could attend a banquet and never need a physician (ibid.9:12).

Of course Jesus could not be expected to hold our advanced ideas on social problems. Yet instinctively his message on diet helps to eradicate poverty. In fact, he recommends himself to the underprivileged classes by pointing out, in Matthew 11:5, that “the poor have the gospel of diet preached unto them.” Here no doubt it was the copyist rather than the author who omitted two words; but comparative criticism easily restores them.

The gospel of diet, naturally, made enemies then as it does now with the established classes. Thus they caricature Jesus by saying that “the Son of Man came eating and drinking, a glutton and a winebibber.” Of course this is exaggeration, for we must balance a diet by supplying a meal that has enough as well as few enough calories. The corpulent, however, lack this balance.

Though Jesus may have occasionally and incidentally spoken of other matters, food is his main concern. In the very next chapter he shows his disciples how to rub and eat grains of wheat. This is healthful because there are no additives, and the natural food is received eo ipso in statu puro, or whatever the original Greek requires. Here we have an excellent example of the progress of revelation, for David a thousand years before had eaten baked bread, but the disciples enjoyed the full nutriment of the raw grain.

When the public learned of eating raw wheat, it became necessary for Jesus to explain how a sower went forth to sow. The types of soil were also explained, and productivity up to 100 per cent. This is indeed remarkable. Of course we can do much better today, but it is unhistorical to judge Jesus by our modern agricultural norms. He had more trouble with weeds, too, and accommodating himself to the evil suspicions of his audience, he attributed the weeds to an enemy.

A modern scholar is at first not surprised to read that Jesus fed 5,000 people at one meal. Yet a careful evaluation of the text shows serious corruptions. It is impossible, after so many centuries, to decide how much if any of this pericope is genuine. But no one can doubt that a redundancy of twelve basketfuls (Matt. 14:20) completely contradicts the principle of the proper amount, not too little, not too much.

Those who wish greater detail on the primacy of food in the Gospel can refer to Matthew 9:17, 37, 38; 10:42; 12:33; 13:31–33; 14:9; 15:2, 11, 13, 17 (verses 18 and 19 are a gloss); 15:26, 27, 32 ff. (this is also suspect, but not so bad as 14:20); 16:5, 6 (this also has been corrupted by a reference to 14:20); 20:1 ff., 22; 21:19 ff., 28 ff., 33 ff.; 22:4 ff.; 23:26, 37; 24:38, 49; 25:10, 26, 35, 37, 42.

This mere listing of the verses that refer to food is enough to demonstrate beyond the possibility of successful contradiction that Jesus’ main message was food. Food fills the whole. When one excises the spurious passages, these verses increase in their proportional extent. Of course, I do not contend that we should interpret all these references according to their present contexts. The disciples, who never quite understood their beloved Dietician and Physician, wrote them down so as to fit their own preconceived notions of what Jesus had to mean. Nevertheless they could never disguise the fact that the Gospel is food.

Although it is not strictly germane to our historical research on Matthew, one cannot fail to note the widespread influence of the Gospel; for there is no other possible source of Feuerbach’s profound principle that der Mensch ist was er isst. This completely justifies Barth in identifying Feuerbach as the greatest Protestant theologian in the generation following Schleiermacher.

This is why the culmination of Jesus’ life is a meal. The new and highly accurate science of form criticism, applied to such stories as these, including Plato’s Symposium, assures us a priori that a meal must be the climax. With their melodramatic proclivities, the disciples thought they could improve the story with a dramatic death and a deus ex machina of a resurrection. Even so, the original facts forced them to include vinegar (probably an original note from some other context) in the death scene. The Gospel of John adds fish to the resurrection; but then no one in this Post-Nicene age pays any attention whatever to John. Even manuscript A omits half a dozen chapters. The climax therefore is the last supper. Why, in view of Jesus’ constant message, should not a supper be the last of the story? What more fitting climax could there be? Apparently they had bread, lamb, sauce robert, and wine. Thus the true Gospel ends on a happy note, as all diets should.

Gordon H. Clark is professor of philosophy at Butler University, Indianapolis. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Pennsylvania. Among his books are “Karl Barth’s Theological Method” and “Peter Speaks Today.”