Burying the Gospel: First of Two Parts

In their well-meaning attempt to make the Gospel relevant and credible to modern man, advocates of the new theology have only succeeded in emptying the faith of its biblical content. They have sought to incarnate the Gospel so fully that they have ended in burying it. They have tried so hard to make the Gospel meaningful that they have actually obscured it. By trying to make the faith this-worldly they have secularized it. The apostles of relevance can justly be accused of losing the identity of the Gospel and also of breaking continuity with the church tradition.

Social Activism

One of the hallmarks of the new mentality in the Church today is the concern to establish relevance by social involvement. That the Gospel has social imperatives and that Christians are obligated to put their faith into practice in the social arena are truths that should surely be acknowledged. Yet when social justice and material security become ends in themselves, then we have lost the primary goal of biblical religion, which is to seek Christ’s kingdom and his righteousness.

Our social action should be seen as a sign of the coming kingdom of God and as a means toward God’s greater glory. But so often in the circles of secular and political theology social action becomes an end in itself or a means for realizing a utopian dream. The Gospel must not be made to serve a this-worldly utopia whether this goes under the name of the Great Society, an Opportunity State, the Classless Society, or a One World Federation of Nations. The Church must never be treated as a means to political ends, for then its freedom is undermined. Political action can be accepted and encouraged as a fruit of faith, but it becomes an effective means of burying the Gospel when it is regarded as the ground or essence of faith.

Many of our would-be prophets within the Church today actually assume a pseudo-prophetic stance. True prophecy is informed by Scripture and brings all sides of a controversial issue under the judgment of God. Instead of speaking the word of God with power, many social activists unwittingly ally the faith with a social ideology, be it of the radical right or the new left. When church agencies give support to African guerrilla movements but are silent on the harassment of ethnic minorities in Arab Africa or black Africa (e.g., the Indians in Kenya), then the Gospel has probably been sacrificed to a cultural ideology. Again, when some conciliar leaders criticize the shedding of blood in South Viet Nam but close their eyes to indiscriminate abortion and mercy killing, then earnest Christians have the right to wonder whether this kind of political judgment springs from cultural rather than religious values. We should by no means wish to minimize the horror and brutality of the war in Indochina, but our protest should be based upon the divine commandment and not political partisanship. When church leaders march in peace demonstrations under the banner “Better Red Than Dead,” then again it is not unreasonable to ponder whether the real moral and social imperatives of biblical faith have been disregarded. Certainly churchmen have the right to join peace marches, and sometimes they may feel constrained to do so out of loyalty to the Gospel; but they should take care not to identify the faith with the cause of radical leftists who envision a society without God. It need hardly be said that remaining silent in the face of controversial moral issues in society is simply another way of burying the Gospel.

Revolution is now a key word in theological vocabulary, but so often those who use it tend to support the violent overthrow of existing social structures. This stands in contrast to the revolution Jesus preached, the inward transformation of the heart of man and the resultant freedom to enter into the struggle for a just society but without resort to violence. What we need is not less social involvement but a deeper social involvement, one that is rooted in faith in God instead of a social ideology and one that is careful never to absolutize any social program or political platform.

Psychological Analysis

The cure of souls has always played an important role in the ministry of the Church. Both Luther and Calvin spoke of the need for pastoral guidance, visiting the sick, intercessory prayer, meditation, and private confession. In this kind of ministry the Gospel was not hidden but revealed and declared; the penitent was directed to place his trust and confidence in Jesus Christ. Many of the early evangelicals advocated frequent self-examination in the light of the Word, but the Word was never subordinated to the goal of personal fulfillment.

In modern pastoral theology the therapeutic methods of secular psychotherapy figure more prominently than the spiritual direction practiced by our fathers in the faith. The penitent is not guided toward Christ or the Scriptures but instead is thrown back upon his own inner resources. The aim of modern nondirective counseling is rational self-understanding rather than the discovery of the will and purpose of God declared in Scripture. The emphasis is upon self-analysis and self-realization, not the greater glory of God. It is mistakenly supposed that by beginning with self one will eventually come to an understanding of God, whereas we hold with Calvin that one cannot know himself until his eyes have been opened to the reality and majesty of God.

Many counselors within the Church today eschew any kind of overt guidance, but they practice manipulation nevertheless. By the skillful use of leading questions the counselor can control the discussion and turn it toward the desired end, that is, rational insight and the resultant catharsis. Admittedly, the older form of pastoral care might also take the form of manipulation, but ideally it consisted not so much in the attempt to influence the unconscious side of the personality as in the straightforward declaration of God’s mercy and an exhortation to obedience.

In sensitivity training and encounter groups the Gospel is again hidden rather than proclaimed or confessed. Although there is direction in such groups, it is direction not from the Word of God but from one’s peers. In this kind of therapy people seek to expose their inmost feelings before others and then reexamine themselves in the light of the group reaction. The group is intended to provide support for each person, but often it assumes control, sometimes in a relentlessly judgmental manner that smacks of totalitarianism. As in the older Enlightenment philosophy, it is presupposed that the truth lies within oneself and needs only to be brought out in group discussion that also entails group criticism. Not the worship and service of God but a heightened self-awareness and an awakened sense of togetherness are the goals of sensitivity training. It is hoped that by becoming more cognizant of one’s own feelings one will become more open to the feelings of others. Only too often the result is a morbid preoccupation with self that diminishes or excludes any real interest in one’s fellow man. It is interesting to note that some seminaries today have required courses in sensitivity training and group dynamics but not even an elective course in prayer or devotion.

Lest I be misunderstood, let me clearly say that I do not wish to minimize the possible wholesome effects of psychological counseling and group dynamics on a certain level. The Church can learn from the insights of secular psychotherapy, and one such insight is the need to listen and to cultivate empathy with the distressed person. My objection lies in the confusion of inner psychic resources with redeeming grace and the equation of catharsis and divine forgiveness. There are also grounds for criticism when nondirective counseling is substituted for spiritual direction and confession and when self-examination is regarded as the surrogate for prayer.

We can learn from secular psychotherapy, but such learning must entail discriminating between truth and error. What should be opposed is not empirical psychology but the naturalistic and humanistic philosophy that informs much of what goes under the name of psychology and also pastoral theology. The modern preoccupation with self contrasts with the biblical goal of transcending self in the service of God. In the words of Catherine of Siena, one of the doctors of the Catholic Church: “Nothing is more His enemy than is self to me.… It will be God or self, not God and self.” Teresa of Avila, who was well known as a spiritual director in her time, expressed the biblical position when she said: “One shall advance more by keeping eyes on divinity than keeping eyes on ourselves.” In our day Jacques Maritain gives similar words of wisdom: “If we look at ourselves instead of looking at God … we wander disquieted instead of entering into peace.” Our Lord cogently expressed the paradox of the Christian faith when he said that by losing ourselves in the service of the kingdom of God we shall find ourselves, but that when we seek to find or discover ourselves then we shall lose ourselves (Luke 9:24, 25; John 12:25).

My plea is not for less pastoral care but for care that is anchored in the wisdom of Scripture and the catholic tradition. At times we need to listen and be nondirective in counseling, but we must always seek finally to bring the Gospel into the open and not let it remain hidden. Dr. George Benson, a Christian psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, has said that “today people will not be led to change save by one who speaks with priestly authority” (“The Disavowal of Priestly Authority,” The Christian Century, May 28, 1969).

Often the Church today seeks to promote fellowship by group techniques instead of letting fellowship spontaneously arise by giving its people a vision and higher purpose in life. I agree with the admonition of Mary Shideler: “The fashion of promoting ‘fellowship’ as such is foredoomed because authentically personal relationships cannot be manipulated by direct techniques.” She goes on to say (in her book Consciousness of Battle) that these relationships are usually the byproducts of something else, such as shared work. True fellowship arises in a church when people are gripped by the passion of faith and are moved to give of themselves for the cause of the Gospel.

When pastoral psychologists explicitly recognize the Gospel, they often treat it as a means to the end of fulfillment and happiness. But the Gospel cannot be made into a tool for solving man’s problems or used as a stepping-stone for man’s personal growth. Nor does the Gospel guarantee happiness and security for the believer. Indeed, if we are true to Scripture we discover that the Gospel brings new problems and that it promises not happiness as the world understands it but instead the cross of affliction and suffering (see Matt. 10:34–39).

This is not to overlook those in psychology and psychiatry who are seeking to do justice to the spiritual dimension, such as Paul Tournier and Bernard Martin. Nor is it to disregard those concerned with pastoral theology who have in varying degrees remained true to the evangelical and catholic tradition of pastoral care, such as Arvid Runestam, Canon E. N. Ducker, and Eduard Thurneysen. But the danger of psychologism, that is, the idea that psychological analysis supplies the key to understanding the human spirit, is very real in all these circles, and the Church must be alive to this everpresent temptation.

SILVER AND GOLD HAD I

I have wept with nickel sentience

And money-making zeal,

And grieved in coin with pathos

I did not really feel.

Papered with bills, my conscience

Grew coarse and ceased to be.

Still I condoled with coppers

And penny sympathy.

I pitied with paper currency

And modest funds for years.

Oh God, forgive the hard, cold cash

I gave in place of tears!

LOIS HOADLEY DICK

Liturgical Innovation

The new liturgy, like the new theology that informs it, also tends to bury instead of exalt the Gospel. New liturgical experiments that feature agape meals, guitar masses, audiovisual aids, and religious drama often leave out the one thing that is most important to evangelical theology—the preaching and hearing of the Word of God. The heart of the Gospel, say the avant-garde liturgists, is not a rational message but an experience of community or a style of life. The Catholic lay theologian Leslie Dewart contends in The Future of Belief that Christianity has a “mission, not a message.… What it communicates is its reality and existence, not an idea.”

In a notable break with the liturgical tradition, the new liturgy is centered not in God’s revelation but in man’s faith. It is geared to the celebration of the festivity of life instead of the Word made flesh. Its concern is with the search for identity rather than the worship of a living, personal God. At the Ninth Youth Quadrennial of the Presbyterian Church U. S. in Atlanta several years ago, a worship leader gave this definition of liturgy: “Liturgy is something which relates me to my neighbor, which makes me feel good, which gives me identity.” At a jazz mass broadcast over television from St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in New York City, one of the celebrants remarked: “Our aim is to help people to feel something—anything.”

God’s wondrous condescension in the person of Jesus Christ is often ignored while man’s potential for divinity is accentuated. Jesus is upheld as a court jester (Cox) or a social revolutionary rather than the Saviour from sin. A this-worldly optimism pervades the new liturgism. The pleasures and vitalities of life are given prominence, whereas the Bible speaks of joy amid suffering. In the view of Harvey Cox (as expressed in his The Feast of Fools), erotic dancing, intoxicating drinks, and drugs can all have a place in a “festive liturgy.”

Another characteristic of the new liturgism is the loss of the moral imperatives of the faith. Although many of the new liturgies focus upon critical social issues of the day, such as peace, race, and poverty, the theology that is presented undermines effective social action, for it disallows any kind of moral discrimination. Kent Schneider, a liturgical jazz artist, declares: “When we say celebrate, we mean that we celebrate the entire world, not just those things that we like, but all the good and evil aspects of life that feed into our consciousness” (United Church Herald, Nov., 1969). The Ecumenical Institute in Chicago, which has pioneered in liturgical experimentation, has for its slogan “All that is, is good.” In the theology of this community, everyone is “totally accepted,” “everything is approved.” No wonder that in advocating social revolution it condones any means for bringing about a new society.

Liturgical innovations are also evident in “ecumenical happenings” that bring together Catholics and Protestants and very often Jews, Muslims, and non-believers as well. A great many of these “ecumenical” services are characterized by syncretism and latitudinarianism. That the “sermon” is usually focused upon social betterment or social-personal integration rather than upon the Gospel is not surprising, for in order to attract, the service must be based upon what the various participants have in common. At a recent ecumenical Eucharist service in Cumberland, Rhode Island, a Hindu swami took part in the celebration.

Liturgical experimentation can be wholesome as long as it is informed by Scripture and by the wisdom of the church tradition. We should stand against reactionaries who merely wish to restore liturgical patterns of a bygone day just as we criticize the new liturgism that derives its inspiration from secular fads. What is needed is a new kind of liturgy, but one that stands in continuity with the past and is centered about the Word and the sacraments. In The Trouble With the Church Helmut Thielicke has said that the two main threats to the Church today are the liturgists and the musicologists because of their penchant toward archaism. He was speaking before the rise of the new liturgism that buries the Gospel in contemporaneity. As evangelicals we should seek neither to ape Catholic practices nor simply to repristinate the cultus of the Reformation churches; instead we should boldly create new forms of faith that are rooted in the past but relevant to the present.

Donald G. Bloesch is professor of theology at Dubuque Theological Seminary in Dubuque, Iowa. He received the Ph.D. from the University of Chicago and has done post-doctoral work at Oxford, Tübingen, and Basel universities.

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