Abstract
Gonna Trouble the Water: Ecojustice, Water, and Environmental Racism
edited by Miguel A. De La Torre; foreword by Governor Bill Ritter
Cleveland: Pilgrim, 2021. 160 pp. $24.95. ISBN 978-0-8298-2169-7.
The presentations are divided into three subsections: the first affirms water as a sacred living entity possessing its own rights and dignity; the second affirms access to water as a human right; and the third explores the weaponization of water against minoritized communities. Social ethicist Miguel De La Torre, the book’s editor, poignantly states the presenting issue: “Water is not to be enslaved, sold, or mistreated. To do so creates pollution, lowers life expectancy, and becomes the source of illnesses and diseases for those living close to abused waterways—those who are predominantly non-European” (p. 9).
The volume provides exposure to diverse worldviews that can expand ecojustice reflection beyond Eurocentric concepts of water as a commodity to be exploited. These include, for example, the Lakota worldview that water is a relative and sacred, and the indigenous mandate that humans must emancipate themselves from an anthropocentric worldview that extracts, privatizes, and commodifies water: “The future of the earth requires a return to the original instructions, found in indigenous experiences and cultures, that require humans to see themselves in reciprocal relationship with all elements of the earth—including water” (p. 20). Likewise, concepts in Korean philosophies and religions (namely, shamanism, Donghak, and salim) challenge an anthropocentric and individualist mindset with nature-centered and communal ideas that highlight “interdependence of life” as a way to become a healthy community (p. 50).
The shadow of several local water crises hovers over the book, including the notorious event in Flint, Michigan. Another situation covered in the volume that caught my attention is not as well known: the Dan River crisis in rural North Carolina, where a coal-burning power plant polluted a river essential to life in a small community with tons of coal ash and wastewater. It affected the health of Black residents who had been displaced when the plant was built but who remained in the area, as well as that of White sharecroppers whose land was near the plant. They rose together in solidarity to counter the exploitation and capitalist logic that poor rural communities are expendable. While challenges remain, new solidarities govern life in a place once controlled by older systems of capitalism and racism.
This book is a testament to King’s dictum that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere”—especially when it comes to water. Readers who engage it will expand the horizons of their reflection on the sacred nature of water and its life-giving character for all.
Loving Water Across Religions: Contributions to an Integral Water Ethic
by Elizabeth McAnally
Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2019. 192 pp. $26.00. ISBN 978-1-62698-307-6.
McAnally begins by evaluating the significance of water and the interdependence of the conservation of water and human survival. An integral water ethic requires an understanding of its religious dimension, and the three central chapters of the book evaluate unique insights of three world religions. In Christian religious tradition, the baptismal ritual occupies great importance. It ascribes sacramental value to water, evoking utmost reverence. Jesus refers to himself as “living water,” and McAnally draws from this imagery to reinterpret his resurrection as a call to resurrect the physical waters of our local watersheds: “Resurrecting water means cultivating a sacramental consciousness, so that we see the sacred present in the world around us. The holy waters of baptism are part of the same hydrological cycle that flows throughout the world” (p. 76). The Hindu tradition contributes the concept of seva (loving service) to an integral water ethic. The Yamuna River that flows through northern India has been revered throughout history as a sacred river that is the aquatic embodiment of Yamuna, the goddess of love. Hindus consider the river holy as it serves (seva) others. The eco-spiritual movement that is growing in India draws on the concept of Yamuna seva, requiring that devotees perform seva (loving service) to save the river, engaging in caring and ecological restoration of its waters. Buddhism also entails reverence of water. McAnally highlights the traditional Buddhist image of the bodhisattva, a being intent on attaining enlightenment in order to liberate those who are suffering and to help them to awaken to the interdependent nature of reality. Activists have coined the term ecosattva to signify bodhisattvas who are engaged in environmental work: “Recognizing water as a bodhisattva involves recognizing the compassion and wisdom inherent in this sacred element of life,” “a vital member of our Earth community” (p. 129). Inspired by the bodhisvatta archetype, McAnally proposes the term aquasattva as “a bodhisattva who is deeply concerned for water in all its manifestations” (p. 129). The aquasattva sees water itself as a bodhisvatta, a wise and compassionate teacher, and strives to restore the health of water by working for water justice and practicing an integral water ethic.
McAnally highlights the urgency of cultivating a contemplative, compassionate, and intimate relationship with water as a nourishing member of the Earth community. In a final chapter, she discusses a variety of contemplative practices that can assist in the cultivation of an integral water ethic—one that influences a shift in perspective from viewing nature as a resource and a commodity to sensing our spiritual/religious entwinement with it, a mutual interiority that will evoke veneration. By locating this study in the field of religion and ethics, McAnally opens up multiple avenues for contribution, contemplation, and commitment to upholding the significance of water, not just as an earth element but as integral to human existence. Using appropriate methodological approaches, she builds comprehensive, profound, and relevant arguments throughout the study. While this work is essential and will provide a significant resource for multifaith and multidisciplinary engagement with an urgent ecological crisis, it also invites deeper engagement in the important work of building faith communities that harmoniously coexist with each other and the whole creation. This book will help religious leaders and congregations find amicable ways of respecting water in particular and the whole of nature in general, acknowledging their sanctity and reverence.
Living Under Water: Baptism As a Way of Life
by Kevin J. Adams; forward by Cornelius Plantinga
Calvin Institute of Christian Worship Liturgical Studies. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. 266 pp. $19.99. ISBN 978-0-8028-7963-9.
In this extraordinary book, pastor Kevin Adams issues a profound invitation to live “under water”—to see Christian baptism not as a one-time event, but as a continuous way of life. Adams delves into the theological and historical aspects of baptism while showcasing its transformative power in shaping Christian identity, mission, and community. He stresses that baptism unites believers across denominational lines and empowers them to resist evil, embrace suffering, and find healing amidst life’s challenges. The book further exposes the abuses of baptism in history, such as forced baptisms and divisive identity politics, while urging readers to embrace a baptismal imagination that transcends cultural and racial barriers, leading to unity and hope within the global Body of Christ.
Most books about baptism explain the theological meanings of baptism, its biblical roots, historical development, and ecclesial implications. Adams’s book does attend to such matters, but observations along these lines surface from the swirling waters of stories. Readers are immersed in a diverse array of compelling stories drawn from more than thirty years of pastoral experience. Some are funny, some are puzzling, some are deeply sad, many are immediately familiar—readers will recognize themselves in them and be grateful for the wisdom Adams squeezes from them. Like a good preacher, he does not use these stories to “illustrate” main points; the stories are the river that carry them along. An insightful reader, Adams deftly quotes everyone from Cyprian to Jemar Tisby (praise Eerdmans for footnotes rather than endnotes) and writes in a way that is both impressively smart and immediately accessible. I have read few theological books that I enjoyed as much as this one.
Creation’s Slavery and Liberation: Paul’s Letter to Rome in the Face of Imperial and Industrial Agriculture
by Presian Renee Burroughs
Cascade Library of Pauline Studies. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2022. 358 pp. $43.00. ISBN 978-1-7252-9487-5.
Much of the biblical theology in this book will be familiar. But Burroughs offers her own perceptive and provocative interpretations on every page. For example, she argues that creation’s groaning and labor pains (Rom 8:22) are positive, in part. One overarching insight, building on Romans 8, is her interpretation of the entire biblical story as one of creation–subjection–liberation–glorification, a narrative in which all characters (including the nonhuman creation) have both responsibilities and expectations. This narrative provides the framework for the whole book and for its theological and ethical analysis, in conversation with both science and political realities. The bottom line? In the midst of tragedy, sin, and death, God is the One who makes right and makes alive, God’s people offer “servant leadership” (e.g., pp. 27–29, 140–46, 172–80) to the creation, and all creation cooperates in the divine healing mission.
One of Burroughs’s most significant insights is her articulation of the parallels between illusory Roman and American claims of agricultural benevolence (particularly regarding wheat), while creation and life itself are desecrated. Of course, apologists for the industrialized agricultural status quo will have their rebuttals ready. I am not qualified to assess Burroughs’s technical analysis and claims, but even if they are only partly true, or only half of the story, Burroughs makes it clear that Christians have much to do if we take the scriptural vision seriously. “With the God who makes right and makes alive, hope therefore remains,” she writes (p. 7).
Letters from the Ecotone: Ecology, Theology, and Climate Change
by Andrew Nagy-Benson and Andrea Lloyd
Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2022. 148 pp. $20. ISBN 978-1-6667-5831-3
From Lloyd, I learned complicated scientific terms and concepts like ecological kinship, feedback loops, and polycentric climate governance. She explained these ideas to Nagy-Benson, and readers are privileged to overhear her. In response, Nagy-Benson offers theological reflections seasoned with excerpts from his sermons, denominational statements on climate and racial justice, and poetry. The title of the book is taken from Nagy-Benson’s own poem: “Fireflies hang / On the edge / Of the ecotone” (p. 21). Through their epistolary exchange, these two friends express concern and lament about the threat of climate change to all life on the planet. They also articulate the importance of their biblical faith in order to “hold the beautiful along with the terrible, the truth of grace with the reality of sin, hope with despair” (Lloyd, p. 36).
Part of the challenge of publishing a collection of letters is its relevance: the passage of time reduces for readers the importance of certain experiences in the past (like stories of people violating facemask mandates in the COVID-19 lockdown). But the crisis of climate change is even more urgent today. We have now experienced the hottest summer on record, which included a recent heat wave in the United States that has killed hundreds of people. Many more fatalities are expected from climate-induced dangers like prolonged droughts and extreme hurricanes.
“Hope is a lifelong work,” counsels Nagy-Benson, “and I know it has helped me over the years to have a crew with whom to exercise” (p. 57). He and Lloyd are workout partners for people whose commitment to being faithful disciples of Jesus Christ includes the care of creation and its most vulnerable neighbors, humans and non-humans alike.
Yahweh among the Gods: The Divine in Genesis, Exodus, and the Ancient Near East
by Michael Hundley
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022. 406 pp. $99.99 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-1084-8286-8.
Answering the question “what is a god?” runs into complexity in the first half of the book because ancient peoples designated and invoked diverse phenomena as divine. Hundley proposes a “constellation” model of godhood, with an “anthropomorphic core” whose god-ness radiates outward onto associated statuary, numerals, stones, animals, and celestial bodies—each of which can act “(semi)independently” (p. 28). This dynamic and pluriform vision of divinity occasioned “pitfalls” as, for example, when local manifestations of the same deity competed. Gods could also “poach” aspects of each other’s character. Hundley attends to several extreme instances of such co-optation: the Mesopotamian gods Marduk and Aššur and the Egyptian god Amun became “one-stop-shop gods” by absorbing the epithets and competencies of other gods.
Answering the question “what is a god?” is complicated in the second half of the book because Hundley applies his constellation model to Yahweh: he first walks through the names and epithets at the “anthropomorphic core” of this god (e.g., El, Elohim, other El titles), his manifestations and his human body, as by the oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18), as well as his fiery form in the burning bush or the pillar of cloud. Hundley also engages other divine beings and appurtenances at a further remove from this core: the sons of God, the angel of the
Hundley’s book is learned, up-to-date, and ambitious; indeed, his introduction anticipates criticism that the chapters on the ancient Near East might homogenize too much variety. It also mostly reads like a gazetteer: its main contribution is to survey rather than to launch any novel historical argument; its theoretical interventions (e.g., the constellation model) are modest. It relies throughout on a corporate analogy: divine fluidity akin to the McDonald’s franchise, takeovers and mergers, and cornering of the market. All this will make it a helpful if workmanlike resource for pastors and students.
Willingness to Die and the Gift of Life: Suicide and Martyrdom in the Hebrew Bible
by Paul K.-K. Cho
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. 317 pp. $26.99. ISBN 978-0-8028-7541-9.
The book begins with examinations of suicides and potential suicides recorded in the Deuteronomistic History. The Bible offers three conflicting assessments of Saul’s death, attributes Ahitophel’s suicide to his concern for his honor and for his family’s wellbeing, and describes Zimri’s death as a self-centered act tinged with elements of divine punishment.
Thornier issues arise in relation to several major and minor biblical figures ranging from Moses to Esther. Cho identifies Job as one who was “willing to die for the right to continue to live as a person of integrity” (p. 59), but not as one who actively desired death. Samson emerges as a very complicated figure. In Cho’s view, one may justifiably categorize Samson’s death as a terrorist act, especially from the Philistine perspective; yet the multi-layered biblical account of Samson’s career involves redemptive elements, especially in its later parts. Twice, in relation to Tamar and in pursuit of his family’s survival, Judah demonstrated “the difficult link between the willingness to die and the burden of leadership” (p. 154). Moses, similarly, risked death in his willingness to link his fate with that of his people and also in his petition to see God. Esther, likewise, exposed herself to mortal danger in order to open a path toward redemption.
The willingness to die for the benefit of others provides the bridge to a consideration of martyrdom as a special category. After developing a sophisticated definition of martyrdom as a decision that “renders the martyr an active participant in the event of dying in such a way that . . . transforms death into a means of unleashing [the] power [of life]” (p. 233), he describes the “Suffering Servant” of Isaiah and the “wise” in the book of Daniel as the two examples of martyrdom in the Hebrew Bible.
Although Cho declines to offer an overall thesis statement for the book, citing the complexity and diversity of the material it covers, he nonetheless succeeds in tracing how the “willingness to die” for a good reason, whether in the course of effective leadership or as a means of bearing faithful testimony, can transform death into a gateway to life. Biblical theologians, pastoral practitioners, and ethicists will find Willingness to Die a useful resource.
The Promise of Not-Knowing: A New New Testament Reading
by David E. Fredrickson
Minneapolis: Fortress, 2022. 234 pp. $34.00. ISBN 978-1-4514-9631-3.
Superficially, Frederickson’s work may seem more deforming than reforming, more deconstructive than constructive. He openly admits his debt to the (in)famous “deconstructionist” philosopher, Jacques Derrida, and to John Caputo, one of Derrida’s most trenchant interpreters. So, is Fredrickson’s “new” New Testament reading(s) a clever disguise for deconstructing these canonical texts into oblivion? To echo Paul and Luther, by no means!
One of the cheapest shots against Derridean deconstruction is its supposed anti-text position, belying abundant evidence of Derrida’s close “grammatological” readings of all sorts of texts. If he were around today, he would unpack a tweet like nobody’s business, just like Fredrickson deftly unpacks various narrative, poetic, and epistolary New Testament texts—not to tie and bow them into a neat package, but to unleash their ever-unpacking potential for our lives. His expositions of women’s stories in Mark 12:41–44 and 14:3–9 that frame 13:14 (“Let the reader understand”), the Christ hymns in Philippians 2 and Colossians 1, and the new covenant discourse in 2 Corinthians 3 particularly stand out.
Fredrickson also shows his textual chops in a panoply of comparative Greek and Roman literature, including poetic, dramatic, and fictional sources. For example, it is not every day that you see the Greek lyric poet Sappho of Lesbos juxtaposed with the epic poet Apollonius of Rhodes and the Byzantine court poet Paulus Silentarius to illuminate the unveiled “soul-shaking force” of the “face-to-face motif” (p. 120) Paul invokes in 2 Cor 3:7–18 via the dramatic story of Moses in Exod 34:29–35! That is quite a swirl of texts, whipping up as much pathos as logos.
To reduce Fredrickson’s intricate book to a singular thesis does not do it justice. But this statement comes close: “Scripture is there not to help us make something of ourselves or to stabilize communities or to explain how the universe works but to call forth the weak force of hope from us, which is an openness and yes-saying to a future we cannot imagine” (p. 105). To be more precise, this reflects Fredrickson’s view of the undisputed Pauline letters, pitted sharply against secondary representations in Acts and pseudo-Pauline writings (Ephesians-Colossians, Pastorals). This false, “deceitful” Paul (p. 83) is a thinly veiled Stoic philosopher obsessed with a providentially ordered universe inhabited by orderly, disciplined individuals who know their places in well-ordered social structures. Clearly not the vital, unveiling, freedom-loving Paul swept up in the liberative Spirit (2 Cor 3:17).
Fredrickson intrigues me at this point, excites me even, but does not wholly convince. I feel a rush of Spirit-dynamism throughout Acts, from the first Pentecost “tongue” to the very last open-ending word—“unhinderedly” (akōlytōs, 28:31)—and I even find a trace of mutuality in the household codes, though I wish it were more than that. I prefer wrestling with canonical tensions over delivering TKOs to troubling texts. But that may be my mushy deconstructionism (too facilely foreclosing gaps and binaries) and immature fear talking (I never liked haunted houses).
Yet Fredrickson keeps poking and spooking me, which keeps me thinking and rereading, not least in Acts, which I claim to know a lot about. “Do you understand (ginōskeis) what you are reading (anaginōskeis)?” Philip asks the Ethiopian eunuch concerning the text he is reading from Isaiah 53 about a silent lamb before its shearer and slaughterer. Why and how might a God-fearing eunuch re-read such a text over and over? “Starting with this Scripture,” Philip preaches “about Jesus,” but we are never told what Philip says. No three-point sermon; no systematic theology. Just invitation and reception, welcome and openness—all the way into the open, “unprevented” (un-kōlyō) waters of baptism (Acts 8:26–38).
What is a Gospel?
by Francis Watson
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. 353 pp. $49.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-8028-7292-0.
The essays cover a diverse array of topics related to early Christian gospel texts. The first essay, which shares the title of the book, sets the tone for the collection by defining the limits of the gospel genre. It does so widely, to include non-canonical gospels. Watson argues that the three defining characteristics of early Christian gospels are their focus on the human Jesus’s interactions with other humans, their portrayal of Jesus as an authoritative figure mediating between divinity and humanity, and their attribution to an individual apostle, the apostles collectively, or someone closely associated with them.
Watson’s inclusive definition of gospel allows for a diverse array of texts to be considered part of the genre, and the essays in the collection reflect this diversity. While six of the essays primarily focus on the canonical gospels, another five explore noncanonical texts. By comparing and contrasting both types of texts, Watson provides new insights into both the canonical and noncanonical gospels. Beyond the specific texts themselves, the collection also offers a broader reconsideration of what the term “gospel” encompasses. Several essays examine issues of reception, materiality, and the history of scholarship.
While the individual essays in this collection offer new insights into the field of gospel studies, some readers may find that they lack a strong unifying theme. At times, the essays may seem disparate and disconnected from each other. However, the book’s great contribution lies in its ability to expand our ways of thinking about early Christian gospels, both canonical and noncanonical. By exploring issues of genre, the essays challenge readers to reconsider what they understand to be a gospel and to appreciate the diversity of texts that should be included in this category and consider how they mutually inform one another.
The Hunger for Home: Food and Meals in the Gospel of Luke
by Matthew Croasmun and Miroslav Volf
Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2022. 114 pp. $17.99 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-48-131766-5.
A short review such as this one can offer only a few gestures toward the book’s interpretive insights. The authors hold together the human hunger for food and the hunger for home, and in doing so they highlight the eschatological tension that marks Luke’s account of Jesus’s mission. Jesus engages—and conveys to his followers—a Jubilee ministry of release, one that makes possible a new kind of home, welcoming the poor and feeding the hungry. The meals he hosts, and the meal fellowship we are called to cultivate, are “partial enactments of the eschatological home” (p. 7); each meal becomes “a sacrament of [the] union of God and the world”—enacted now, in anticipation of final consummation in the future (p. 105). Croasmun and Volf also emphasize the revelatory character of meals and eating in Luke: Jesus’s inclusive table fellowship—sinners welcome, one and all (and all are sinners!)—displays his identity and mission. And like David, Jesus carries out his ministry between anointing and enthronement, yet he is much more than David, for he is the Lord for and to whom the Sabbath is celebrated (a point developed in the authors’ discussion of the intertextuality in play in Luke 6:1–5). Moreover, in the last pre-crucifixion meal of Luke 22, Jesus is the manna in the broken bread: “God broken, given, and poured out” (p. 84). Especially intriguing is the link the authors forge between the dogs caring for Lazarus in 16:19–31 and the tearful, anointing woman who extends hospitality to Jesus in 7:36–50—both expose the inhospitality of Simon and the rich man.
There are only a few hiccups in this lucid, well-edited book. In discussing Jesus’s prayer for the forgiveness of his enemies (Luke 23:34a), “if we take [the verse] to be authentic,” the authors assume but do not explain the text-critical issue in view (p. 92). Also, women followers of Jesus are said to “prepare [his] body for burial” (p. 92, with reference to 23:55–56), but that is what they intend, not what they actually do. In addition, some christological claims in the book seem to overreach. For example, the notion of Jesus as manna, as bread from heaven, reads Luke’s narrative through a Johannine frame.
Readers will likely turn to this book in a social context that is all too familiar with poverty, hunger, and homelessness. Hunger for food may not be all that matters, in light of our yearning for intimate relation to God, but it does matter—a lot! The deep reflection on conviction, commitment, and embodiment in practice that Croasmun and Volf invite is important work for people and communities of faith today. Hunger for Home would be an excellent study resource for an adult, young adult, or youth class in a congregation. The book and the questions it poses to readers are well worth pondering deeply.
1 Corinthians
by Kimlyn J. Bender
Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible. Ada, MI: Baker, 2022. 320 pp. $35.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-5874-3317-7.
The commentary has many strengths: a healthy awareness of biblical scholarship, regular engagement with the Greek text, concise yet nuanced commentary, and rich consideration of cross-references within Christian Scripture. Further, it attends more intentionally than some volumes in this series to historical-critical considerations. For example, in discussing chs. 5–15 of First Corinthians—chapters where Paul addresses specific issues and concerns—the commentary devotes more consideration to historical and contextual realities than theological reflection per se, giving substantive grounding to the interpretive readings offered.
The commentary’s most distinctive feature, of course, is the connections drawn between Paul’s letter and broader Christian theology. For example, discussion of the “word of the cross” (1 Cor 1:18) reflects broadly upon divine activity and grace, and consideration of “there is one Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 8:6) reflects richly on Christology. At such points, an array of historic theological thinkers are engaged: Chrysostom, John of Damascus, Augustine, Luther, Kierkegaard, Barth, and C.S. Lewis—to name just a few examples. Bender is careful, however, not to layer later thinking upon Paul uncritically, but to make it as an asset for Christian theological reflection today based upon 1 Corinthians. In addition, the commentary draws ethical implications for today (e.g., about “cheap grace,” church discipline, and marriage). Readers desiring more extensive consideration of sexual immorality, slavery, or feminist and global hermeneutical readings may look to other commentaries.
Overall, Bender’s 1 Corinthians is a commentary that is textually grounded, theologically reflective, and a helpful resource for bridging biblical exegesis to theological reflection with nuance and care.
Becoming Human: The Holy Spirit and the Rhetoric of Race
by Luke A. Powery
Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2022. 162 pp. $22.00. ISBN 978-0-664-26722-3.
Chapters 4 and 5 then engage the practices of the church, with regard first to preaching (ch. 4), and then ministry more generally (ch. 5). Powery commends a homiletical approach that emphasizes the full personhood of the preacher and creates space for diverse homiletical voices. Preaching needs to speak about race and racialization, though “without making the subject the sum total of the gospel and establishing our whole identity in racial particularity” (p. 81). Jesus stands at the heart of Powery’s vision of preaching, and because the human Jesus was crucified, preaching must also attend to “the plight of wounded people” (p. 97). A constructive homiletic thus nurtures the voice of lament in preaching. A brief “coda” acknowledges that humility befits all who would consider the mystery of the Spirit’s working; this is not something that we control.
This is a compelling work from a master preacher. Each step in the unfolding argument of the book is instructive. The entire project challenges readers to face a past—still far too present—that is in many respects disturbing. Yet Powery also points us toward a theological vision and concrete practices that can foster authentic human community. I especially appreciate the eschatological sensibility of the author’s theological praxis: “In the Spirit, preachers rehearse reconciliation until it comes, because it is what is truly needed in a racialized world that divides and dehumanizes” (p. 103). Preaching amid a culture polarized around matters of race and ethnicity is a daunting task. This book reminds readers how critical that work is, and offers a rich resource for those courageous enough to undertake it.
Freedom and Sin: Evil in a World Created by God
by Ross McCullough
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. 256 pp. $50.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-8028-8183-0.
McCullough develops an approach that he labels “compatibilist indeterminism” (p. 10). His account is compatibilist in its understanding of freedom. God sometimes causes our action indefectibly. This does not infringe upon freedom, because we still choose and because true freedom imitates God’s impeccable freedom. But God determines only some, not all, of our choices (one facet of the indeterminist aspect of the argument). While God is the primary cause of all things, human beings can, in the mode of deficient secondary causation, “negate” God’s cause of the good. This is more a fall from true freedom than a result of freedom.
Why didn’t God start us off in the happy state of the blessed, truly free but not susceptible to evil? Here the book presses its indeterminist line further through the notion of “self-creation.” We cannot share in God’s uncreatedness, but it is possible for us to “approximate” God’s uncreatedness through our self-creation (p. 152). McCullough invokes the Irenaean contention that a creaturely form of “hard-won” good results when we mature through struggle and use our capacity to choose rightly. The shaping effect of self-creation helps to explain why freedom grows (and the risk of evil recedes) as, through grace, we create ourselves more in the pattern of God.
Does this struggle apply to Christ’s true humanity? His self-creation (as Logos) does not involve struggle by nature but does participate in our struggles. Christ’s incarnation (sharing in Adam) was decreed “before” the foundation of the world, but the crucifixion (sharing redemptively in Adam’s struggles) is anticipated “from” the foundation of the world. The crucifixion responds to those human choices that wrought evil while nevertheless being in tune with the eternal divine decree. “The general’s strength is what sustains the soldier, and the soldier’s struggle is what assaults the general” (p. 196).
Freedom and Sin is a demanding book whose rich lines of inquiry oscillate from analytical precision to lyrical suggestion. Its provocative proposals flow from a classical theist perspective while avoiding stereotypes of static and determinist tendencies sometimes associated with that tradition. One central question is whether the book’s crucial distinction of freedom itself from “self-creation” (which McCullough acknowledges is “in the neighborhood of freedom” [p. 26]) bears the weight placed upon it. The book is a welcome challenge to those of us partial to the personalist Trinitarian approach that McCullough finds wanting.
The Great Story and the Great Commission: Participating in the Biblical Drama of Mission
by Christopher J. H. Wright
Acadia Stuides in Bible and Theology. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2023, 176 pp. $23.99 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-5409-6616-2.
Along with others in the emerging subfield of biblical interpretation known as missional hermeneutics, Wright understands mission, first and foremost, in terms of the comprehensive purposes of God, while the church’s mission is understood in terms of participation in that larger missio Dei. Reading the biblical “story” as a seven-act drama moving from creation through new creation, Wright is careful to acknowledge that his narrative approach to mission is but one of multiple approaches within missional hermeneutics—a valuable caveat, given that many readers have mistakenly understood the field as being synonymous with his story-oriented methodology.
Wright’s survey of the broad lines of a biblical narrative of God’s (and, derivatively) the church’s mission is substantive and significant. Particularly effective is his thoughtful reinterpretation of the so-called Great Commission in Matthew 28:16–20, the key biblical text for the self-understanding of the classic missionary movement. Wright demonstrates that the passage is best understood as commending a holistic gospel and corresponding mission (inclusive of, but by no means limited to evangelism and outreach beyond the community of faith), characterized by five key “marks” (evangelism, teaching, justice, compassion, and creation responsibility) grouped around three “tasks” or “focal points” (building the church, serving society, and ruling over and caring for creation).
Although Wright’s scriptural appeals sometimes disregard historical-critical assumptions typical in mainline biblical scholarship (e.g., without comment, Paul is understood to be the author of Titus, and Peter the author of 2 Peter), he thoughtfully and helpfully illuminates the character of the Christian gospel and provides a robust biblical rationale for environmental justice, correcting popular misconceptions of biblical teaching: “It is amazing (and regrettable) how many Christians believe that the world ends with us all leaving the earth behind and going off to heaven to live there instead. . . . We do not go somewhere else to be with God; God comes to earth to be with us” (pp. 138–39). Ultimately, Wright’s analysis of the missional nature and calling of the Christian community and its place in the biblical story will be generative for local church studies and discussions.
Walking Through the Valley: Womanist Explorations in the Spirit of Katie Geneva Cannon
edited by Emilie M. Townes, Stacey Floyd-Thomas, Alison P. Gise-Johnson, and Angela Sims
Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2022. 218 pp. $27.00. ISBN 978-0-664-2672-16.
As Cannon’s former students, colleagues, and friends, the contributors build rooms on her sure foundation, making the text an extended metaphor for how Black religious thought was “Cannonized” (p. x). Some of the contributors serve as architects, picking up one of Cannon’s design elements, such as sources, and expanding her use of history, Bible, and Black female intellectual thought. The particularly cogent first section demonstrates how Black women rise above “anti-Black, anti-woman, misogynoiristic spaces” to create new academic fields and leadership arenas (p. 5).
Given this creative impulse, some of the contributors function as interior designers who repurpose and redesign rooms for our current needs by highlighting Cannon’s legacy of teaching and mentoring. The book’s second and third sections provide examples of literally redesigning the church and the academy via womanist leadership and embodied pedagogy, forcing the church, academy, and public to respond to the death-dealing circumstances of economic injustice, criminality, and environmental racism. In the final section, devoted to embodied ethics, the contributors contend that the foundation is solid, and thus womanists will withstand the threats presented by the rains of misogynoir, the floods of racism, and the winds of classism. These threats have constantly assailed the foundation and the womanist house, but it stands firm. Readers in both academic and ministerial contexts will find that the contributors make a convincing case for the resiliency that can be gleaned from Black women’s embodied knowledge. The text as a whole highlights the value of Black female knowledge production, leadership, and agency that lives on in those who continue to add to the womanist house, honoring the legacy of Katie Geneva Cannon, who is among our great cloud of witnesses.
Science in Theology: Encounters between Science and the Christian Tradition
by Neil Messer
New York: T&T Clark, 2020. 208 pp. $24.95. ISBN 978-0-567-68981-8.
Those familiar with the field of religion and science will benefit most from Messer’s book. His approach reflects his science background: he proposes a hypothesis, tests it, and determines that his study “proved the typology to be a useful tool” (p. 139, italics added). Messer notes that two of the five types of interaction—the third type, in which both scientific and theological voices contribute equally, and the fourth type, where science participates but takes a back seat to theology—“offer rich possibilities for theological engagement” with science in the three areas he discusses (p. 136). Yet since the other three types either exclude the voice of theology, or give science the dominant voice, or shut out the findings of science, readers may wonder if the promising nature of the third and fourth types “for theological engagement” should not be expected. Messer also suggests ways in which he thinks researchers can profitably use his typology as they approach science and theology projects. However, he does not address the question of whether researchers are likely to use classification types, based on descriptive accounts of interactions between science and theology, in order to determine their own normative stances regarding the relationship between science and theology.
Navigating Faith and Science
by Joseph Vukov
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2022. 187 pp. $19.99. ISBN 978-0-8028-7961-5.
Conflict describes how people experience the pull between these two worldviews, especially when science and religion pursue the same or similar questions. Thus, some degree of conflict is inevitable. A special difficulty arises when these two perspectives are seen as either metaphysical explanations of reality or as competing ideologies fighting for social resources and influence.
Independence acknowledges the distinct place of faith and science in daily life. In this approach, there is no competition between them because they do not seek to answer the same questions. Many scientific claims operate independently from religious claims, and vice versa. Each discipline pursues different goals, avoiding debates over facts. However, separating facts from what we ought to do (values) is not easily accomplished since none is truly independent from human desires, needs, and values.
Dialogue between science and religion implies that they approach the same questions but from different perspectives, mindful that perspectives are always incomplete. Insights from each can inform the other’s understanding. Some differences are related to method, others to assumptions about truth, and still others to diverse definitions of what is natural and supernatural. After exploring areas of the human experience where this dialogue can enhance our understanding of the world, the author demonstrates that dialogical engagement respects each discipline’s territory while avoiding lapses into soliloquy. The book concludes with recommendations on how to choose our models for the specific tasks at hand.
I appreciate Vukov’s emphasis on pursuing truth as we interpret and build accurate descriptions of the world around us. However, I found his discussion of “epistemic trespassing” most instructive (p. 23). He believes that this problem is widespread among intellectuals, lacking in humility, and leading people away from speaking truthfully on diverse issues. Faith itself can be humble because it is human. Christians trust God by embracing who they are: fully alive people, not all-knowing ones. In theology, this approach is termed apophatic, which entails owning our intellectual limitations, including those of language. Nevertheless, speaking about faith and belief, and not merely of religion and science in the abstract, is appropriate.
The Invitation: A Theology of Evangelism
by Richard R. Osmer
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2021. 295 pp. $24.49. ISBN 978-0-8028-7622-5.
Osmer’s working definition for evangelism is clear, his move from evangelism to evangelization even clearer, and his biblical commentary on the two Gospel narratives as they relate to mission is comprehensive and will be familiar for seminary-trained readers. Academic encounter with Karl Barth’s theology, the crux of this new framework for rethinking mission and evangelism, is surprisingly brief yet theologically informative. Readers are asked repeatedly to reconsider the relationship between salvation and evangelism, with an emphasis on assumptions around conversion. In this regard, atonement theories are not explored, though assumed, and a substitutionary construal of salvation is the atonement perspective of choice. Organized into three parts, the book concludes with a nod to the Holy Spirit, to establish a Trinitarian emphasis for the missional identity of the church.
Osmer is an unabashed Barthian enthusiast and offers an accessible way to engage this influential theologian. Yet surprisingly, while the book argues for a reframing of traditional expressions of evangelism, it lacks in-depth examination of the Holy Spirit, even though this seems to be the true crux of Osmer’s new framework. The book’s contribution to the ongoing study of mission and evangelism would be strengthened by leveling up its discussion of the theology of the Holy Spirit. Theologians are replaceable, after all, but not so the Holy Spirit.
A notable feature of the book is its case study method. Each chapter includes at least one, sometimes two, case studies gleaned from the work of his students, each story illustrating a relatable experience of evangelism. Readers will appreciate the personal narratives (some commendable and others viscerally awkward), as they will be familiar to many. Two particularly compelling contributions of the book are its discussions of salvation as soteriological objectivism, which makes way for the Holy Spirit as the mediator of communion (p. 169), and of the practices of prayerful listening and discernment of the Holy Spirit (p. 184). As some historians have noted, post-Christendom entails a surrender to the movement of the Spirit outside the church walls. Thus, greater attention to this Spirit in both academic and ecclesial circles would enhance our missional posture.
Introduction to Preaching: Scripture, Theology, and Sermon Preparation
by Leah D. Schade, Jerry L. Sumney, and Emily Askew
Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2023. 390 pp. $116.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-5381-3859-5.
The book has many strengths. Overall, it is clear and methodical, well-organized, and filled with examples and exercises that model the chapters’ concepts in practice. A few specific features are worthy of note. First, the text gives an instructive method for establishing what the authors call the “Theological Claim” of a sermon (Part II), a focus not found in other introductory texts. This seeks to ensure that preachers privilege what can often go missing in sermons: intentional theological reflection growing directly out of the preacher’s exegetical work. Second, while other introductory texts provide methods for articulating the sermon’s claim and purpose (notably, Thomas Long’s emphasis on “focus” and “function”), the chapters on the “Central Question,” “Central Claim,” and “Central Purpose” are accessible improvements upon them. Third, the chapter on “Activating Theological Imagination” (ch. 18) is a welcome addition not found in most introductory textbooks, foregrounding the importance of creativity and modes of sermon preparation that are “right brained.” Finally, the book is appropriately up-to-date with a concluding chapter on preaching in online contexts and exceptional back matter that includes a glossary and appendices that provide resources for emerging preachers.
However, at 362 pages (including appendices), the text is quite long. While the twenty-six chapters do contain helpful examples and exercises (and some of the chapters are solely composed of such), the book could feel overwhelming to early career preachers who often engage a text like this in a limited timeframe. Additionally, the book assumes too much about the importance and place of preaching in contemporary congregations, and about how emerging preachers ground their identity theologically as preachers, commonly called “theology of preaching” (which the authors note in ch. 8 as a missing element in their discussion). When used in more traditional seminary classrooms, Parts I and II (on biblical exegesis and theology, respectively) may feel too heavy-handed or repetitive. In terms of perspectival limitations, it is important to note that even though the book is collaborative, none of the authors identify as persons of color (something they recognize and name in the introductory notes), and the book’s example sermons are solely from Schade’s own preaching catalog.
These problems, however, do not diminish the importance or accessibility of the text. It is ideally suited for seminary students who are very early in their coursework and, even more, for lay people who are going through commissioning or licensing processes in their denominational traditions. The book functions as a combination of textbook and workbook in a way that other introductory texts do not. Whether used in a class or in self-guided reading, emerging preachers will find a great deal that helps them preach faithful, loving, imaginative, and wise sermons.
For Every Matter Under Heaven: Preaching on Special Occasions
by Beverly Zink-Sawyer and Donna Giver-Johnston
Working Preacher Books. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2022. 228 pp. $19.99. ISBN 978-1-5064-6579-1
As both scholars and practitioners, Zink-Sawyer and Giver-Johnston provide a depth of biblical and theological insight, as well as wisdom related to practical considerations such as architecture, acoustics and culture. They tackle preaching occasions that come up often (e.g., weddings and funerals) as well as those encountered periodically (e.g., church closures and commissioning). They explore topics within the exclusive purview of the church, such as baptism, as well as topics that touch virtually every human being, such as divorce.
Zink-Sawyer and Giver-Johnston have accomplished a rare feat in a readable 200+ pages, managing to remind preachers of the importance of joining sound theology with the biblical story and the particular stories of human beings in order to reveal the Word of God that speaks to and shapes our world and our lives. Recognizing that God’s Word does not return empty, the authors take seriously the task of preaching on special occasions, knowing that whenever people gather for them, the Spirit blows where it wills, and those who hear the sound of it are changed. While resources abound for liturgical seasons, the lectionary and each book of the Bible, Zink-Sawyer and Giver-Johnston have addressed a gap many preachers knew existed but did not know how to fill. For Every Matter Under Heaven embodies the very advice it gives, not only telling, but showing preachers how to proclaim the gospel for every season.
Preaching and Praying as Though God Matters: In the Post-establishment Church
by Ronald P. Byars; foreword by Don E. Saliers
Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2022. 156 pp. $22.00. ISBN 978-1-6667-4709-6.
Written in a time of cultural transition and church decline marked by widespread concern for ecclesial self-preservation, this encouraging book summons preachers toward confident trust in the power of the Spirit who “creates new things from scratch” (p. 74). Byars is keenly interested in addressing the fears, uncertainties, and even desperation of pastors within mainline denominations. Rather than offering another appeal to take up the newest and latest innovative strategy for restoring cultural approval and respect, Byars wisely and graciously assesses such strategies as productive of a kind of homiletical and liturgical minimalism. The hard parts of the gospel go missing—aspects of it that may offend, but that may also direct people to the very source of life-changing possibilities that are the surprising work of divine grace. The challenging parts of Christian faith and life as articulated in the gospel’s call to costly discipleship may well be quite compelling to hungry, hopeless church members and lonely, disenchanted skeptics. Readers will be indebted to Ron Byars for this bold but loving work of liturgical and homiletical wisdom.
Pastoral Virtues for Artificial Intelligence: Care and the Algorithms that Guide Our Lives
by Jaco J. Hamman
Emerging Perspectives in Pastoral Theology and Care. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2022. 251 pp. $87.85 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-7936-4045-1.
This is a thought-provoking work that explores the intersection of the rapidly emerging technology of artificial intelligence (AI) and faith. Hamman examines the potential impact of AI on human spirituality and offers a nuanced perspective on how we can maintain and cultivate pastoral virtues in the age of AI. True to the complexity of the subject, he offers a realist’s perspective on how we can cultivate pastoral virtues in the age of AI while remaining hopeful for future outcomes.
Hamman argues that pastoral theology has been myopic, if not willfully ignorant, in not including technological advances and influences in the human experience of faith and spirituality. He offers five pastoral virtues as a framework to dialogue with the influential emerging applications of AI: hope, patience, play, wisdom, and compassion. In Hamman’s view, these virtues are foundational to human development, personal maturity, and social flourishing, reflecting also “the scriptural witness of core divine traits” (p. 168). Throughout, the book treats how each virtue relates to and counters a bias in the current development of artificial intelligence. Hamman cautions, “A world in which these biases are released will not differ much from the world that received the evils released by Pandora” (p. 168).
The reader will appreciate Hamman’s ability to make complex theological and technological concepts accessible. He draws on a variety of sources, including philosophy and theology. Of particular interest is Hamman’s use of mythology and fables to shed light on universal human issues and values to treat the intersection of AI’s potential influence for good and ill. He argues for the application of transversive reasoning as a method for the intersection of pastoral theology and AI. Such reasoning provides a way to operate between disciplines for inquiry, to critique, and to create new possibilities for rationality “and forms of knowing without conflating one discipline into another” (p. 171).
This is an admirable and challenging treatment of a thorny, and potentially frightening, emerging influence on the human experience, which includes faith and spirituality. Hamman treats both the promise and peril of AI for pastoral theology and care with both caution and optimism.
The End of Theological Education
by Ted A. Smith
Theological Education Between the Times. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2023. 239 pp. $19.99. ISBN 978-0-8028-7887-8.
Ted Smith, in The End of Theological Education, offers a less holy yet incredibly powerful word: unraveling. An established mode of theological education that privileges graduate-level education for professional ministry in congregations and denominations, amid a culture of increasing secularization and individualization, is currently unraveling. Denominational forms and networks are unraveling. Congregations as voluntary associations are unraveling. Ministry as a profession is unraveling.
Most observers see denominations, congregations, professional ministry, and theological education in decline, or perhaps in a time of “free fall” as the forces of gravity bring down each of these interrelated dimensions of established religious life in North America. Church leaders and theological educators who are focused on “decline” attempt to counter concerns about diminishing numbers (human or financial) with strategies to ameliorate the forces of decline through new expectations of leadership, new programs, and new innovations. Smith’s brilliant insights offer leaders and educators a chance to reframe their conversations.
When something woven tightly—in this case professional models of education to equip future ministry leaders to serve well-formed congregations in vibrant denominations—begins to unravel, the threads remain. That which has been woven is no longer tightly bound; it is now more open to new possibilities as new weavers consider how to work with the individual threads. To be sure, some of the threads are frayed and most seem weaker than they once were (weaker by a different standard, perhaps). Yet, the threads remain.
Tightly woven threads once carried a great deal of weight for a particular model of theological education, a particular type of faith community, particular forms and functions denominations, and a professionalized ministry. Unraveling threads cannot bear this weight, as our experience over recent decades attests.
I consider this book one of the top five publications about theological education during the past 100 years, from Robert Kelly’s Theological Education in America (Doran, 1924) to the present. While other books may be more exhaustive in content, none offers more insight. Whether the reader is a theological educator, theological student, or congregational or denominational leader, this book will stimulate new perspectives and prompt forward-thinking discussion, perhaps beginning with a conversations about “threads.”
Readers likely will begin with the introduction to the book and proceed through its first two chapters before arriving at the pivotal chapter on unraveling. They may well benefit from beginning with ch. 3 (“Unraveling”) and then returning to the introduction. This unorthodox reading approach will yield new perspectives through which to view a beautifully written and concise history of how we have arrived at the present. Readers then may re-read the chapter on unraveling with richer insights before proceeding to subsequent chapters that identify areas to let go (“renunciations”) and new considerations (“affordances”) to align theological education more faithfully with its ultimate ends.
The End of Theological Education is an immeasurably hopeful book that looks toward the future of the church and its ministry and the future of theological education with fresh perspectives. Ideally, groups of diverse readers will reflect together on the unraveling threads, with attention focused on the threads rather than the unraveling, and find new possibilities for flourishing that will benefit the church and its ministry and the enterprise of theological education, as we re-weave these threads into new patterns.