On Brian McLaren’s blog I found a link to a review of a book called “Razing Hell.” The book is written by a woman named Sharon Baker. Has anyone read this book? Or does anyone have any ideas regarding hell? I’ll copy-paste a few passages in the review that ignited my interest.

While the metaphor of fire for God’s judgment is helpful, Baker treats Jesus’ words on hell in the New Testament primarily as a teaching device.  This would not have been unusual in the day and age of Jesus, she says.  It was not uncommon in the Middle Eastern world to use “the most explicitly vivid metaphorical language… to make an important point (136).”  And the point was not that people were literally in danger of being thrown into a garbage dump in the southwest region of Jerusalem (Gehenna), but that people were at risk of missing the fresh movement of God among God’s people and in the entire world.

But what do we make of those passages that refer to hell as “eternal punishment,” one might ask. Does this not suggest that people who reject this movement of God will inevitably find themselves engulfed in the eternal flames of hell? No, says Baker.  While the translation of the word eternal is inconsistent (sometimes translated as an age, other times as eternity), “the question of eternality as never ending only truly applies to God (138).” Thus, a reference to eternal fire refers not to something apart from God, but “to the fire that surrounds God (138).”

The question remains (and it is the question everyone wants to ask), If this fire that surrounds God is a purifying fire that melts away all that is impure and leaves behind that which is righteous and pure, and we all stand (believers and unbelievers alike) before God on the Day of Judgment to pass through that fire, does anyone perish? Does anyone suffer the torments of hell? While Baker says she is not a universalist, that she believes “God respects the freedom given to us to choose for ourselves whether or not we want a relationship with God,” she also questions whether there will be anyone at all, in the aftermath of God’s judgment, who will reject God (141).  After all, “Only something impure could reject God (145).”

Personally, I am not completely convinced by her logic (at least as it is presented in this blog post), but I also do not stand (easily) by the traditional evangelical view of hell as eternal punishment. It is, however, a very difficult subject to talk about. The doctrine of hell is perceived as crucial to the Gospel message by most evangelicals. The very reason for evangelizing is often this threat of a potential future in an eternal hell.  Understood from the fundamentalist paradigm, this conclusion makes sense. It is built upon a straightforward and literalistic reading of the gospels and the New Testament as a whole.  But once one adopts a more, in my view, responsible way of interpretation, the same conclusion becomes less likely (long story though). The question then is: if this doctrine of eternal punishment is rejected, how does that change our vision of the gospel and the consequences of sin, and, even more importantly, the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Obviously, to truly do justice to this discussion, one should attempt a broad and in-depth research. It might be an interesting topic for the future.

Brian McLaren’s own book (The last word and the word after that) might perhaps be more useful than this latest addition to the discussion. McLaren presents a different reading of the many statements Jesus made regarding punishment and hell. His book is well worth reading, if only to provoke some new thoughts.

One can only wonder why there are some, Christian theologians perhaps being the foremost examples, who still care to defend the Christian scriptures on an intellectual level. In a time when Dawkins’ “The God Delusion” became an international bestseller and theology has been marginalized in the academy, and the Church marginalized in Western societies, why do we still care? Or, better, why do we still believe at all? The answer to that question always, to some degree, begins or at least falls back on those texts that were delivered to us; texts from ancient times, thousands of years old: texts written in a very different culture, from very different lands and cities than where, for the most part, people think and discuss and write about these texts in our time.

On the grassroots level, these texts are highly revered by enormously diverse groups of peoples, literally all over the planet. Mostly, all these groups also read the same texts differently, but for certain relatively stable notions. Where does this undying reverence and trust in these texts come from, so goes a common question of today’s society co-inhabitants. And the question is understandable; even more so, it is a question that most believers ask themselves as well, often on a regular basis. The question also often seems, unfortunately, unanswerable. The common answers do not satisfy—at least, they do not satisfy most people.

Is it not, to start out with, an immense problem that the foundations of our faith are often seen to stand or fall upon words written on paper, as opposed to a foundation outside of the written word, however difficult to imagine? This would mean that as soon as certain parts of these texts could be reasonably attacked and made to look implausible, these foundations would start crumbling, as indeed they have. What remains, if not the text? If the text crumbles, are we left with nothing? But then again, surely God is not found in the text itself? (although writers such as Brueggemann suggest just this. Brueggemann refuses to speak of a God outside of the text. See Theology of the Old Testament. Perhaps, in Brueggemann’s case, it is foremostly a way of doing theology well. See his Deep Memory, Exuberant Hope, p84. It cannot be denied that his approach takes the biblical texts extremely serious). The texts themselves presuppose, from beginning to end, that God acts in the reality outside of the text. Put irreverently, the texts are merely the after-effects of the writing down of what God did in Israel’s and mankind’s history.

If God stays inside the text, we are faced with a dead entity. Over-simply put, He’d consist of letters slapped on paper. It is true that such ways of speaking are tributes to postmodern philosophy and literary theory, but true theology need not pay tribute to anyone but God. In that sense, we can agree with Dawkins who sees the existence of God as a scientific hypothesis, outside of any holy text—if God does not exist in that way, then surely not in any other way (for example) as pertaining exclusively to a written, holy text. The problem, or if you will, opportunity, is that we, Christians, see a direct relation between the existence of this God and the written, biblical scriptures. Without these texts we’d have what Dawkins tries to disprove: a supernatural, transcendent entity about whom we know nothing. With these texts, we have the entrance into a revelation about this entity, who is presented to us as being personal and, to a degree, approachable. We tread on a thin line, between having nothing and, possibly, a lot. All of that is caught in what I here have called the problem of scripture.

My last post suddenly became more relevant and acute, because the Dutch government resigned just a few days ago (20th of February, 2010), which means there will be new elections within three months. This also means there is, for the first time, a real possibility that Wilders’ political party (the PVV, Party For Freedom) will become the largest party. If he then manages to form a majority-coalition with 2 or more other parties, Wilders could very well become the next minister-president of the Netherlands. All the more reason, therefore, to write about the inherent dangers of his views.

In the previous post, I looked at the official data that is available concerning the number of Muslims in the Netherlands. Using that data I examined the developments of the Islamic demographic during the past decennia. A closer look at the numbers proved that there is no such thing as an explosive growth of Muslims. There just isn’t. Realizing there is no such explosive growth neutralizes the bite of Wilders’ rants. Furthermore, I promised to give a second reason why such claims of an Islamization of Holland are unfounded. The second reason has everything thing to do with the contingencies in the methods of estimation (I will leave this for another post). But first I will explain why I group the name Wilders and the statement “the destruction of democracy” in one sentence.

The ironic thing with Wilders is that the issues, the ideals, he is fighting for, namely freedom and Western democracy, are single-handedly destroyed by certain statements he has made. In his effort to fight what he sees as evil, he invokes evil himself. The Machiavellian concept that the end justifies the means has here become ‘the means destroy the end.’ The statements I am referring to are those in which Wilders clearly and unequivocally states that the Quran should be outlawed, furthermore, that there is no place for the Islam in the Netherlands at all.  Such statements come from a man who wishes with all his heart to stand up for Western values; someone who speaks highly of the Judeo-Christian traditions and heritage of the Netherlands. Geert Wilders, in his desire to save democracy, has philosophically destroyed democracy. If he saves democracy by sacrificing democratic values, he has attained nothing.

This is why ‘the case Wilders’ is so tragic. Wilders is a relatively smart and efficient politician, albeit an, at times, rude and deliberately offensive one. The man knows what he is doing; but in the process of knowing what he is doing, he has tragically overstepped his boundaries. Wilders would only be worth supporting if he would drop the offensive language, cut out the discriminating ideas and would instead truly stand up for democratic ideals, which at the very least includes freedom of religion. The freedom to be able to practice your religion is, basically, where a democracy starts being a democracy. Without this basic freedom, there is no true and free democracy.

In a letter sent to the Volkskrant (one of the major Dutch newspapers), Wilders explicates his position regarding the Quran (for similar statements in English, see here). He writes, “A ban is a ban. So not only the selling [of the Quran], but also the usage in Mosques and the possession at home must be punished.” He calls the Quran “a fascist book.” With a profound sense of understatement, he adds, “If Muslims want to participate [in our society], they must distance themselves from this Quran. I realize that this is a lot to ask, but we must stop making concessions.”

Part of the charge that I brought forward above is one that Wilders expected and has already responded to. In an elaborate interview with the Revu, he explains and defends his proposed ban of the Quran. He does not discuss banning the Islam altogether, but I assume this has to do with his shying away from this issue. More on that later. The interviewer asks some important questions and does a good job of following up on Wilders’ answers. The interviewer states, “You are also inconsistent yourself. On the one hand you promote the freedom of expression but on the other hand you want to ban two books [the Quran and Mein Kampf].” Wilders answers that “there is a limit, namely, instigating violence.” The interviewer then lets Wilders read a passage from the Old Testament in which an act of violence, the slaying of two people, stops a divine plague. Wilders responds: “This is the Old Testament. It is not an instigation of violence. That is the difference with the Quran. The Old Testament relates by way of stories how everything must be done. The Quran has a different context. Everything is stated imperatively: ‘chop off their heads and necks.’ … The countries where a homosexual is hanged, where journalists are killed, or where women get shot are no Christian countries, but are predominantly Islamic nations. Here in the Netherlands we do not have problems with Buddhists beating up gays. Moroccan youth do that.” (The distinction Wilders makes between the Bible showing by stories how things must be done, and the more direct statements in the Quran seems self-contradictory. For if violent stories in the Bible instruct how it must be done, how is that different than teaching the need for violence?)

Wilders enters theological territory. This is where politics and theology meet. A kind of meeting that is not so popular in our secularized society. These are issues, also, of interpretation. It is true that the Quran contains verses that call upon the reader to fight and kill unbelievers,  as well as verses that speak pejoratively about unbelievers, Jews, and Christians. Is this enough to ban the Quran? With the strict logic of Wilders, yes. Anything inciting violence should then be banned. Non-Muslims like Wilders take the task to themselves to interpret the Quran. Is this appropriate? Surely Wilders understands the historical conditioning of the Quranic texts, as he must also understand that same conditioning for Old Testament texts. Without equating the Quran with the Old Testament in any way (because that would be nonsensical), it is not a stretch to assert that some people could find passages in the Old Testament to justify present-day violence. Actually, in some senses, and I realize this is dangerous territory (because the potential of misunderstanding my point is dangerously present), it is already happening in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Some insist on the basis of verses in the Old Testament that Israel has a right and a calling to use military violence in their political struggles with neighbouring, Arab countries. Now, let me be clear: The question at hand is not whether such claims are just or whether there are other political reasons why violence should be permitted, because that is pretty much irrelevant in this particular discussion. The question is whether Wilders can truly uphold that the reasoning that leads him to denounce the Quran could not be used by others to denounce the Bible.

Consequently, when under Wilders-like rule Islam would be banned, is it too much to assume that the same thing could then happen to Christianity? It is his stated goal to defend the Dutch Judeo-Christian heritage, but in his quest to defend it he radically endangers it and thereby any freedom of conscience and religion. For if your beliefs do not line up with what Wilders and his compatriots consider ‘peaceful enough,’ you are potentially in danger. Obviously Wilders himself would not ban Christianity; to claim that and then slam that claim would be to slay a straw man. I am now simply following Wilders’ own logic to its proper and disastrous end: Wilders’ reasoning leads to the end of free democracy and the end of the free practice of religion. How can a Christian in freedom appreciate his freedom with a pure conscience, when this same freedom is not granted to Muslims? He cannot. We as part of the Christian community cannot. There is therefore a need for Christians to speak out against Wilders.

——

P.S. For those of you doubting whether Wilders has asserted that he wants to ban the Islam altogether, listen closely to a recent debate (sadly, like most links in this article, only in Dutch). In an exchange with Pechtold, he clearly says when affirming his proposed ban on the Quran, that “there is no place for the Islam in the Netherlands,” because it is an “evil ideology.”

The Dutch politician Geert Wilders is becoming increasingly well-known the world over. Often, however, non-Dutch commentators do not realize what exactly his viewpoints and standpoints are. He is sometimes seen, especially by Christians, as some kind of (wanna-be) liberator of the West. A liberator of (supposed) growing Islamic influence, that is. Wilders thrives upon the spreading fear of Islam in Western countries. He speaks of the ‘Islamization’ of the Netherlands, and Europe in general. A while ago, an article in The Telegraph was cause for concern among many, and also Wilders jumped (here, article in Dutch; see also the document with the questions that were asked by his party in the ‘senate’) on the results of new research that was presented in the article. The article claimed that by 2050, 20% of the inhabitants of Europe would consist of Muslims. Holland was projected to reach that mark even sooner. Many repeat this claim uncritically—or often even more outrageous claims, some of which even speak of a projected majority of Muslims by 2050—without checking the numbers, and subsequently fear for the future of the Netherlands. There are two reasons why such explosive projections lack substance.

First, the official numbers as estimated by the Dutch governmental body in charge of all kinds of yearly statistics, the CBS (Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek), do not support such a claim, or anything remotely like it. All of the information can be found on their website (www.cbs.nl). Let’s look at a few graphs and numbers (I collected all the information from the CBS website, and plotted a few graphs based on the data).

Up until 2004, the CBS estimated the number of Muslims by taking into account the percentage of Muslims in the country of origin and by using some external research. In an article (here and here) on their website, they explain that from 2005 onwards they will also start using data acquired through official surveys.

Let’s first look at the data of the old and naive estimations (click on the images for a bigger version).

Graph 1

A steady increase of Muslims. If the trend continues, the number of Muslims should go through the one-million mark very shortly after 2004. Does it look dangerous yet? Let’s put it into perspective. Now a graph with the same numbers, but combined with the numbers of the total population of the Netherlands.

Graph 2

When put in perspective, the ‘threat’ seems relatively small, if not non-existent. Moreover, we mentioned something about changing ways of estimating and that should give a slightly better view of the amounts of Muslims in the Netherlands. The next graph uses the new data from 2005 onwards, but uses the old data up until 2004 (the survey data from before 2005 was not as reliable, the CBS admits). Note that the sharp drop in numbers of Muslims from the year 2004 to 2005 does not indicate that their number grew that much smaller in the course of one year, but simply that the numbers are smaller than they had first expected due to an updated estimation method. 2005 is the first year, then, that the new method was used.

Graph 3 shows the estimated number of Muslims, whereas Graph 4 shows those same numbers together with the total population.

Graph 3

Graph 4

That is surprising, isn’t it? The (slightly) more realistic numbers turn out to reveal a smaller number of Muslims than what was hitherto expected. Also, importantly, the number has not risen significantly over the last four years. In the next post I will take a look at reason #2 why the claims of a so-called Islamization are nothing more than unfounded, fear-mongering tactics. I also still owe you an explanation why Wilders stands for the destruction of democracy, as indicated in the title of this post. All that and more in the next post. One last graph trick, for the heck of it: the percentage of the Dutch population that is Muslim, from 1995 to 2008 (Graph 5; click on the image for a bigger version).

Graph 5

Toward the twenty percent? I guess not. Stay tuned for more.

http://app.widgenie.com/WidgetView.aspx?ID=2c3f7ba4_ba19_4b94_843f_93d451dc640a

The conflict in the Middle-East concerning Israel and the Palestinians is a difficult topic to discuss. The history of the conflict is so complex that it is hard to know what one must think; people often forget that and jump to conclusions. Then there are others that have intimate, first-hand experience of the situation, on either side, and this also forcefully informs their opinions. Something that is only natural. How to proceed? At minimum, we need to realize a couple of things.

From a theological perspective, a big problem is the mixing of theological and political arguments. Often it is assumed that the nation of Israel of today is theologically the same as the nation of Israel as described in the Old and New Testament. The nation of today is defended and justified with verses from the Old Testament. But is that really a correct decision? This question cannot be answered with a simple yes or no, for the problem is way more complicated. One issue that underlies this question is how one should, theologically, sort out the relationship between Israel and the Church. Or should we even speak of Israel and the Church? Maybe we should say ‘the Jewish people’ and the Church instead? And sorting out this relationship is not an easy thing! We must distinguish, however, between theology and politics. Or our vision will be blurred, and we defend political events with theological arguments.

A second issue is the mixing of the fear of stimulating anti-Semitism (in the sense of anti-Jewish sentiments, not in the wider sense) and proper theology. It is often claimed that supersessionism (so-called ‘Replacement Theology’) has historically been responsible for anti-Semitism and violent Jew-hatred. This is at least (!) partly true, but is it also necessarily true for future theology? Let me rephrase that: would a contemporary theology that does not have any specific place for Israel always  lead to anti-Semitism? The answer to that is a simple no. We have a lot of examples of theologies that do not deal with Israel and that see ‘the people of God’ simply as consisting of Christians (a group that obviously also includes Messianic Jews), which do not stimulate anti-Semitism or any sentiments contra Israel. What I mean to say is, a historical argument that supersessionism has led to anti-Semitism is not a properly theological argument, nor is it a strong argument by its own right. A respectful supersessionist theology could give due reverence to the Jewish people and even to Israel. This is not to say that we should not call out any occurrence of anti-Semitism, be it in our theology or in our culture: we must! But as a theological argument it will not do.

I’ve been following some discussions (here, here, and here) on the blog of a former teacher of mine, Anders Gerdmar. These discussions have largely revolved around the place of Israel in systematic theology and supersessionism. In the comments it became quite clear that even those very much opposed to a supersessionist theology cannot, in the end, give Israel a clear and well-defined place in their theologies. David Nystrom asks the right questions in one of his comments (here, scroll down):

What, namely, do we then make of the Jews who don’t believe, the branches which, according to Paul, were broken off? If we, without qualification, see them as equally sharing a part of the covenant (affirming that there only is one) and as included in God’s saving economy, are we not compromising the Church’s eternal claim that salvation is only found through Christ, or more precisely, through faith in Christ? If we, on the other hand, claim that the unbelieving Jews really have been cut off and are not part of the covenant any longer, have we not then just made a full circle back to supersessionist theology?

This is precisely the questions I have been asking myself for a few years. The responses to this questions were not satisfactory (judge for yourself). In the end of the day, the ones who do see an important, even crucial, place for Israel do not want to go as far as to say that Jews will get saved without believing in Christ. What then, I ask, is the point of stating that Israel is still in the covenant? What good is this covenant if it does not include grace? In my eyes this is even a rather serious distortion of Old Testament theology: for there was grace, faith and forgiveness of sins even in the Old covenant.

A lot more can and must be said about this important issue, but I’ll leave it at this for now.

Judging from the enthusiasm and conviction with which many theologians (and philosophers and others) speak of postmodern philosophy, it often sounds as if there is no alternative. One gets the distinct impression that one better cave in or risk becoming (or more often, remaining) irrelevant. Relevance apparently being the watch-word for any successful Christian theology. The French philosophers, ‘the great three,’ Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault, are often explicitly mentioned and lauded. Especially in the Emerging community these men are highly regarded, and not completely without reason. However, and here it comes, in the midst of all this talk about French philosophy almost no mention is ever made of Alain Badiou (except by some adherents of Radical Orthodoxy), even though his star is quickly rising in the philosophical firmament. The great three have all died, but Badiou is still here and this might contribute to his growing popularity: the three can not speak back anymore.

Alain Badiou is a French Professor of Philosophy at University of Paris 8, and ironically, is one of the remaining original staff that was appointed by Michel Foucault in 1969. Badiou has arisen as a fierce critic of postmodern philosophy, one of many, and his voice is being increasingly heard.

In one of his first books translated into English, Badiou writes, “The philosophers of today should rather call themselves ‘philosophers.’ Most of them say in fact that philosophy is impossible, completed, assigned to something other than itself” (Manifesto for Philosophy, 27). Such a fundamental critique on contemporary philosophers is rare coming from within its own circles. Badiou, in effect, says that these philosophers are more like anti-philosophers. Such is Badiou’s criticism: on the fundamental, basic level. Illustrative of this is the following; referring to Lyotard’s famous declaration, Badiou writes, “The announcement of the ‘End of the Grand Narratives’ is as immodest as the Grand Narrative itself…” (ibid., 31).

More will be said of Alain Badiou in future posts. Any criticism of Badiou, or additional relevant information is welcome.

John Piper is what they call a ‘New Calvinist.’ Someone, I guess, who defends and preaches the Calvinist dogma, which usually (and sadly, might I add) boils down to a strong insistence on the sovereignty of God. The five points of Calvinism, though a simplified scheme, can, according to some, function as a showcase of ‘true’ Calvinism. John Piper sometimes jokingly says that he adheres to the seven points of Calvinism. The sixth point follows naturally from the first five: double predestination. On his website we read, “By definition, the decision to elect some individuals to salvation necessarily implies the decision not to save those that were not chosen. God ordains not only that some will be rescued from his judgment, but that others will undergo that judgment.” At least Piper is consistent. And it is such consistency that gets him in trouble later on.

When trying to answer the question “How can evil have a good purpose,” he is not only presupposing that good could possibly come out of evil, but that, literally, God makes this evil come about. The answer then turns to the event that shocked the world some nine years ago, the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. Beware, this may be shocking (as well).

“After the planes flew into the Twin Towers in New York, I was interviewed and people would ask me, “Where was God in this?” I said, “Well, God could have very easily blown those planes off course by a little puff of wind, and he didn’t do it. Therefore God was right there ordaining that this happen, because he could have stopped it just like that.” Everybody who believes in God should say that, because that is how powerful he is, as it was said of Jesus, “The winds obey him”. And so just a simple wind by the command of Jesus would have blown those planes away and they would have crashed and 60 people would have died instead of thousands of people. But he didn’t do that. Why is it comforting to believe that?

“The answer is because there are 10,000 orphans who wonder if they have a future. Will they have a future if God isn’t powerful for them? I’m coming to those families and I’m saying when they ask me, “Do you think God ordained the death of my daddy?” I say, “Yes. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. But the very power by which God governs all evils enables him to govern your life. And he has total authority to turn this and every other evil in your life for your everlasting good. And that’s your only hope in this world and in the next. And therefore, if you sacrifice the sovereignty of God in order to get him off the hook in the death of your daddy, you sacrifice everything. You don’t want to go there.”

“The sovereignty of God, while creating problems for his involvement in sin and evil, is the very rock-solid foundation that enables us to carry on in life. Where would we turn if we didn’t have a God to help us deal with the very evils that he has ordained come into our lives? So yes, absolutely, I believe in the sovereignty of God and I believe in its comforting effects.”

So, wait… What? We should be grateful that this God is going to help us ‘deal’ with evils this same God puts into our lives? Now, the word irony does not quite cover what is going on here. Our helping, caring God is simultaneously our greatest enemy. We need God to help protect us from God: we are thrown into a hopeless situation, one of despair, for God’s ways are incomprehensible; they are both evil and good, we know not what to expect. We may only take comfort from the insight that it is God who controls everything, the evil and the good in our lives, the joy and the pain, the laughter and the tears. Only He knows the meaning of all of this, we are left simply to believe and to pray. To pray to God to protect us from Himself, if at all possible. This truly is Calvinist theology gone awfully bad.

Thanks to the Inhabitatio Dei post for calling attention to this passage.

Last post I mentioned the question of community: how important is community for Christian faith and what is then the place of the individual? Recently, I came upon a post about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and confession. I thought I would share one of the beautiful and thought-provoking passages, from his book Life Together.

Why is it that it is often easier for us to confess our sins to God than to a brother?  God is holy and sinless, He is a just judge of evil and the enemy of all disobedience.  But a brother is sinful as we are.  He knows from his own experience the dark night of secret sin.  Why should we not find it easier to go to a brother than to a holy God?  But if we do, we must ask ourselves whether we have not often been deceiving ourselves with our confession of sin to God, whether we have not rather been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution.  And is not the reason perhaps for our countless relapses and the feebleness of our Christian obedience to be found precisely in the fact that we are living on self-forgiveness and not a real forgiveness?  Self-forgiveness can never lead to a breach with sin; this can be accomplished only by the judging and pardoning Word of God itself.  Who can give us the certainty that, in the confession and the forgiveness of our sins, we are not dealing with ourselves but with the living God?  God gives us this certainty through our brother.  Our brother breaks the circle of self-deception.  A man who confesses his sins in the presence of a brother knows that he is no longer alone with himself; he experiences the presence of God in the reality of the other person.  As long as I am by myself in the confession of my sin everything remains in the dark, but in the presence of a brother the sin has to be brought into the light.  But since the sin must come to light some time, it is better that it happens today between me and my brother, rather than on the last day in the piercing light of the final judgment.  It is a mercy that we can confess our sins to a brother.  Such grace spares us the terrors of the last judgment. (pp. 115-16)

Now, first things first: the title of this blog. The title “Me, Myself, and Theology” might (possibly) sound very individualistic or self-centered, something which I do not intend.  What I am trying to convey is simply that these are my thoughts and reflections, and I alone take responsibility for them.  A few more words can be said about this though.

The concept of the individual is sometimes frowned upon today; it is more popular to talk about the importance of community. But alas, no community without individuals. Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) taught us that a Christian must believe, so to say, individually, and cannot rely on a community of believers to do that believing for him. I don’t think any of the more Emerging or otherwise ‘postmodern’ theologians of today wish to deny the importance of individual faith (likewise: I would not deny the importance of the community for faith), but it does sometimes get pushed to the margin. Doubtlessly I will encounter this again sometime soon, and I will write more about it when I do.

For now: do you, as reader, have any thoughts about the individual and his relation to the community? Do you think the renewed appreciation for Christian communities is good?

Here’s to a new beginning. I’ve decided to acquire this tiny space on the internet for my personal reflections, ranging from everything related to theology, Christian faith and the Church, to thoughts about important events in politics and such.

Please feel free to respond to anything I may write; I love discussions.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.