Apologetics & culture wars

 1: The cross & the conversion of the imagination

     The Church of Jesus Christ owes its very existence to “imaginative apologetics”.[1]  While for us, the challenge of apologetics may consist in finding imaginative “parallels” with the tenets of Christian orthodoxy (à la Aslan=Jesus)[2] or techniques to better communicate the gospel, for the apostle Paul, the irreducible content of his message demanded that his audience undergo what Richard B. Hays called “a conversion of the imagination”.[3]  As Paul himself points out, the message of a crucified Lord is an oxymoron, “foolishness” (Gr: moron) to Greeks and a scandal to Jews (1 Cor. 1.18ff).  In God’s strange providence, Paul’s gospel did indeed accomplish its mission of converting imaginations and lives (cf. 1 Cor. 1.21; 2.1-5).[4]

     Indeed, Paul’s gospel was not only logically absurd, it was also politically subversive.  Jesus’ crucifixion had not been a lynching, after all; rather, it had been sanctioned by the Roman imperial justice system.[5]  As the vanquished members of Spartacus’ slave revolt (71 B.C.) discovered, crucifixion was the Roman way of keeping (as-yet-cooperative) slaves in their place.[6]  The message was clear: victims of crucifixion had simply gotten what they deserved for having had the hubris to rebel against the divinely sanctioned order[7] that gave Roman masters the power of life and death over those whose lives were their property, to be exploited at will.  For Paul to grant the title of “Lord” (a title claimed by the emperors) to a crucified criminal was, to put it mildly, an outrage.  It was to discredit the very system of “justice” that sustained the empire.

     Indeed, Paul’s gospel was “absurd”, subversive and…liberating.  If Jesus, who had been crucified by the empire, had been raised from death and now offered the life of the Age to Come to those who followed him, then one could inhabit an alternative kingdom,[8] one could live a life whose terms would be dictated, not by the imperial machine, but rather by the reign of the crucified-and-risen One.  This was a way for imperial victims to achieve victory; a means for them, to borrow the language of Revelation, to “overcome” (cf. Rev. 2.7, etc.).  This contextual analysis of “the gospel” (in its NT context) has intriguing relevance for the present context in which we seek to defend the faith.  Jesus proclaimed “the gospel of God concerning his kingdom” (Mk. 1.14-15) in a Palestinian climate of (frequently violent) Jewish resistance to Roman rule; Paul defended “the gospel of God concerning his Son” (Rom. 1.1-3) in a much broader metropolitan context of seemingly irresistible imperial power.  As for us, we offer our “apology” for the gospel in the context of a culture war.  The time has come to rediscover the revolutionary and transformative power of the message of Jesus for our – ideologically and literally – conflicted world.

2: Apologetics in wartime

     When we speak of the “culture wars”, we are referring to the ideological struggle between the left and the right, liberals/progressives on one side and conservatives/traditionalists on the other, which began in the U.S.A. in the 1960s[9] as the New Left began to agitate for equality for groups that had been historically marginalized and oppressed (e.g. women, homosexuals, African-Americans, etc.).[10]  This “war” reached its zenith in the 1980s and 90s.[11]  There is debate as to whether the culture wars had come to an end or whether the appearance of Donald Trump on the American political scene has re-ignited this cultural conflict.[12]

     God is back!  Despite the advance of secularism in the Global North since the 18th century, it is now a rare occurrence to hear virulent critiques of Christianity of the kind previously proffered by say, Voltaire (1694—1778) or Friedrich Nietzsche (1844—1900).  Alas, even the invectives of the “Four Horsemen” of the new atheism – Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris and Daniel Dennett – seem to have been simply a passing phase, a kind of last gasp of Enlightenment-style skepticism; Christopher Hitchens’ essays would often betray his frustration and bafflement that the 18th-century had not in fact managed, to borrow the language of Nietzsche’s madman, to kill God once-and-for-all.  Indeed, the past decade has witnessed the rise to prominence of several public intellectuals – by no means “practicing Christians” – who are very familiar with the Bible, analyze western society in Christian terms and even theologize in sold-out venues!  Psychologist Jordan B. Peterson (b. 1962) and historian Tom Holland (b. 1968), to take but two examples, both claim to have had “Christianity-informed mystical experiences”[13] for which they struggle to find categories that would enable them to (rationally) understand the intrusion of the transcendent into their lives.

     If modernity killed God – and thus, eroded the foundations of conventional Christian morality[14] – and if post-modernity killed the very idea of truth as well as enabling westerners’ moral (mis)behaviour to catch up to their (void-of-God) philosophy, the post-secular age[15] that we now inhabit – in a dramatic reversal – has once again created public space for rigorous discussion of just these two supposedly moldering notions.  God is back, and his prophets are thick on the ground.

     And yet, many of these messengers of the “resurrected God” are – no surprise to Bible readers – quite unconventional.  Social media allows these “New Theists” (Peterson, Holland, et al.)[16] to gather a following that would make the pastor of even the largest mega-church jealous.  In a surprising parody of the “evangelical zeal” of the (not-so-)New Atheists[17], their theistic nemeses – who, remember, neither attend church regularly nor identify as “believers” – are eagerly holding forth on what they perceive to be the fundamental importance of Christianity for the continued well-being of western civilization[18] and the real and relevant value of the Christian canon of Scripture.

     Indeed, a cynical observer of the New Theists might simply attribute their new-found respect for Christianity and the West’s Judeo-Christian heritage as so much weaponizing of these ancient faiths in the cause of their crusade to conquer “leftist ideology” and thus score victories in the culture war.  The “battle-cry” of the Left since the 1960s has been “Justice for all, now!”  Justice for all of those oppressed by the socio-political systems created and maintained by (predominantly) old, white, cisgendered, heterosexual men, a.k.a. the Patriarchy.  Whether it be African-Americans marching for civil rights in the 60s, the second-wave feminism of the 70s or the fight by members of the LGBTQ+ community for equality in the early decades of the 21st century, the misfits of western society have been engaged in a struggle to draw attention to issues of race, sexuality, gender, the environment, migrants, refugees, the homeless, the safety of sex workers, safe drug use, etc.  The question of justice has always been central to the western tradition, including both its Jewish and Greek sources.  Indeed, the notion of an “revaluation of values”[19] is front and centre in the New Testament Gospels themselves (He has pulled down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly…).  The question of who today may be included in the NT’s “multitude” of victims of both pagan imperial and “orthodox religious” oppression (cf. the books of Revelation, The Acts of the Apostles) is one that all believers must wrestle with, now.

     Now, as then, “revolution” is in the air.  However, whereas past revolutionary movements in the western world were easily recognizable against the foil of imperial, totalitarian regimes (e.g. Solidarnosc vs. Soviet-backed Polish Communism), it is now the case that opposing sides in the culture war can both self-identify as the victims of the other’s “totalitarian” agenda, and more confusingly still, both sides can appeal to Christianity for legitimization.  Case in point: how to understand the election of Donald J. Trump (for a second time) as president of the U.S.A. on 5 November 2024?  Was this Trump’s against-all-odds comeback in the face of leftist hatred and the dishonest slandering of the right’s champion of traditional values (i.e. Christianity)?  Or was this a last-ditch effort on the part of the patriarchy to impose their backwards morality – through underhanded, undemocratic stratagems – on disruptive minorities and those victims of societal conventions (ergo issuing a call to Christians to resist this “quasi-fascist” regime)?

     Indeed, it is a bewildering time to be a follower of Jesus,[20] and a very challenging moment for those seeking to articulate/defend the Christian faith.  The “cultural space” within which our message is (mis)heard is deeply polarized.[21]  However, as I shall seek to demonstrate, the New Testament documents themselves offer surprisingly relevant wisdom to those who would seek to promote the plausibility of their claims about Jesus of Nazareth and argue in favour of following this first-century rebel.  As Tom Holland has pointed out, the “revolutionary impulse” is basic to both Christianity and the history of the West.[22]  Since the fourth-century rise of Christendom, every “revolution” (even those who targeted Christianity) has been “Christian” in the sense that it was made possible by Christian values and ideals.  The question is no longer (according to Holland), Should I rebel against traditional western values? but rather, What are my traditional western (i.e. Christian) values summoning me to rebel against?[23]  In the first century, the apostle Paul subverted an empire with his gospel of a crucified Lord; in the twenty-first century, what may Christians be called upon to subvert as they share/defend the gospel?



[1] In the Fall of 1939, as he often did throughout WWII, C.S. Lewis preached a sermon in the Oxford campus church entitled “Learning in War Time”.  This essay is (consciously) written in the spirit of Lewis (1898—1963).

[2] Cf. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia (1950—1956).

[4] Cf. Lewis’ experience of having his imagination “baptized” by the works of George MacDonald.

[6] Following their defeat by Crassus, thousands of slaves were crucified along the Appian Way leading to Rome.  Imperial propaganda at its finest!

[7] I.e. by the gods of Rome.

[8]

[9] This was the time of Quebec’s “Quiet Revolution”, when this previous bastion of Ultramontane Catholicism rapidly secularized; it was a perfect storm – rising nationalism, renewed openness to the world symbolized by Expo 1967, radical relaxation of social taboos coupled with the populist changes in the church following Vatican II – and the Roman Catholic Church in Quebec has never recovered.  Cf. MacCulloch, Diarmaid, Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years, pp. 973ff.

[10] Cf. Hartman, Andrew, A War for the Soul of America: A History of the Culture Wars, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019 [2015], pp. 9-37.

[11] Cf. Hunter, James Davison, Culture Wars, New York: Basic Books, 1991, pp. 107-32.

[12] Cf. Hartman, Andrew, A War for the Soul of America: A History of the Culture Wars, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2019 [2015], pp. 285-303.  Hartman wonders whether a society founded on individual freedoms (i.e. to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness) can avoid being embroiled in permanent cultural revolution…

[14] Nietzsche’s argument.

[15] It is impossible to attach dates to most of the post-xxx epochs that are often described in the literature.  We are talking about “tendencies” as opposed to definite “periods”.  Modernity is generally understood to have begun with the 18th-century Enlightenment in Europe, and the term “post-modernity” first appeared in academic publications in the late 1960s.  Modernity was understood to be characterized, among many other things, by a dramatically amplified “secularism” and the consequent relegation of religious practice to the home and designated places of worship.

[16] Canadian Orthodox Christian icon writer Jonathan Pageau and American Roman Catholic bishop Robert Barron (diocese of Winona-Rochester) also hang out with these guys, but they are both long-time believers.  A more recent fellow-conspirator is Ayaan Hirsi Ali, former Dutch politician and supporter of the New Atheism, who experienced a conversion to Christianity in 2022.

[17] Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris and Daniel Dennett were the most prominent.

[18] Indeed, while secularism may be on the way out, the culture wars, which began in the 1960s, show no signs of abating.  The trench warfare, that continues to embroil western societies (esp. in North America), between traditionalists/conservatives and progressives/liberals/“wokeists” cuts across religious lines, leading many Protestant denominations to fracture as members chose their side in the war.

[19] Cf. Nietzsche’s “revaluation of values”: The Antichrist (1888), in Walter Kaufmann, ed. The Portable Nietzsche, 1982 [1954, 1968], pp. 565-69.

[20] As they say, “Truth is the first casualty of war”.

[21] Some interpret the culture wars as portending the end of Western civilization!

[22] Cf. Holland, Tom, Dominion: How the Christian Revolution Remade the World, New York: Basic Books, 2019.

[23] Bishop Robert Barron explains the link between Marx and Nietzsche, French postmodern historian Michel Foucault (1926-84) and contemporary “wokeism”, which interprets history in terms of “oppressors” and the “oppressed”: https://www.wordonfire.org/articles/barron/wokeism-in-france-the-chickens-coming-home-to-roost/ (accessed December 23, 2024).

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Detention diary, day 2: “Good Friday behind bars”

Does the New Testament teach a doctrine of Hell?

Bonhoeffer's quest for a credible Christianity