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Question Answer XIII

Episode 146

Question Answer XIII

with John Dickson

Please note that due to software, not everything in this transcript will be accurate

Question Answer XIII

Studio – John Dickson:

We’re listening to the trailer of Roland Joff’s 1986 film, The Mission, starring Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons. Amazing film. The film might be actually more famous for its astonishing musical score by Ennio Morricone. Do yourself a favor and go and listen to the soundtrack. Just, just listen to track one, On Earth As It Is In Heaven, I think is the name of it. It is incredible. But the film itself is beautiful and haunting. Its depiction of the relationship between European missionaries and indigenous peoples is confronting. Perhaps that’s where I was first introduced to Christian history as a story of bullies and saints. The film is set in the 1750s and follows a band of Jesuit missionaries as they travel into the Paraguayan jungle to evangelize the Guarani people. After living with the tribe for some time, the priests are actually successful and the Guarani actually adopt Christianity. There’s plenty of action in the film, no spoilers here, but one of the main themes is the juxtaposition of the rapacious encroachment of Christian civilization in the region and the care That individual missionaries gave to indigenous tribes. The juxtaposition, or we might call it nuance is. Highly controversial, and the film is experiencing a reappraisal in the last 20 years. Many just see Christian missionaries as part of the colonialist project. There is much to blame for the destruction of culture as the broader Christian civilization that often followed them. Missionaries are an example of the white saviour motif. In their efforts to care for the souls of indigenous people, they ruined indigenous culture. Latin American historian Julia Sarihal wrote these words, The Jesuits took away the Indians freedom, forced them to radically change their lifestyle, physically abused them, and subjected them to disease. Were such missionaries sharing good news? Or were they weaponizing religion? In service of colonization. It’s a really tough question and I’m going to try and tackle it today. I’m John Dickson, and this Lord help me is the season 13 Q and a episode of Undeceptions.

Undeceptions theme plays

This season of Undeceptions is sponsored by Zondervan academic. Get discounts on master. video courses, and exclusive samples of their books at zondervanacademic. com forward slash undeceptions. Don’t forget to write undeceptions. Each episode here at undeceptions, we explore some aspect of life, faith, philosophy, history, science, culture, or ethics that’s either much misunderstood or mostly forgotten. And with the help of people who know what they’re talking about, we’re trying to undeceive ourselves.

Director Mark:

Hi! Director Mark here. Our first question comes from Steven, writing in from New Zealand. I live in New Zealand and am often confronted with negative stereotypes of missionaries and disdain for the idea of going to another country to spread the gospel. Christianity is often associated with all that’s bad about colonialism and something that brought more evil than good. But is this historically true?

Studio – John Dickson:

Stephen, thanks so much for this. I have to confess a bit of ignorance about the New Zealand situation specifically. I mean, I’ve been to your wonderful country plenty of times, and I’ve actually asked locals, both Maori and those of European descent, about this exact question. But I’ve struggled to really get an answer about the Historical particulars. And remember, this is a historical question, and empirical evidence is what should guide us, not some dogmatic theory about the angelic nature of the missionaries or about the destructiveness of missionaries. Of course, I know the Australian situation much better, and my simple answer is … it’s really mixed. Missionaries often did, culturally repressive things like banning sacred corroborees, forcing indigenous Australians to live and dress in a Western manner. And yes, even disciplining them physically for disobedience. In this way, missionaries often treated First Nations people in much the same way that society at the time treated children. Missionaries were part of the colonial project, not just bringing the gospel to people, but also civilizing them in inverted commas, which often meant imposing Western forms of civilization on indigenous communities and the fit really wasn’t great. This pattern of cultural imposition goes back a long way, I’m afraid to say. In the early 500s, during the reign of Clovis of Gaul, the Merovingian kingdom, missionary bishops occasionally aligned themselves with Clovis’s imperial campaigns. We have a surviving letter from Bishop Evitis of Vienne in Southeast France. I get my students here at Wheaton to study it. In it, the Bishop urges King Clovis to promote Christianity in the regions he intends to conquer. Now we have this letter and it cuts off just before the Bishop describes Clovis’s military plans. So it’s tantalizing, but it’s clear the Bishop viewed this as divinely orchestrated, an opportunity to spread Christianity deeper into pagan Europe. Here’s what Avitus writes.

“There is one matter I would have you improve, King Clovis. Since God, through you, makes your people completely his own, I would have you extend from the good treasury of your heart the seed of faith to more remote peoples because they are still situated in a state of natural ignorance. Be not ashamed or reluctant to send embassies on the matter and to add to the realm of God who raised up your realm to such an extent.”

Bishop Avitus isn’t exactly advocating for Christian holy war as a method of evangelization, but he does hope that Christian embassies, he means like missionary parties, will accompany Clovis’s expanding European empire. And this is the early 500s. This is the beginning of religious imperialism. Wherever the Merovingian armies went in the next two centuries, bishops, priests, and deacons would follow, establishing churches and monasteries. It’s eerie to read this ancient material because it’s mirrored in the modern missions movement that expanded wherever the British or Dutch or Spanish empires extended. Similar patterns occurred in New Zealand. Among the proud Maori people. European settlers arrived with their guns and missionaries came with their Bibles and their schools and their hospitals. But there are important questions I reckon we’ve got to ask as we reflect on all of this. It’s right to ask what insights from our contemporary society might have better informed the behaviour of Christian missionaries in the 18th and 19th centuries? That’s a valid question. I don’t hold the view that you can’t judge people of the past by modern standards. We need to be cautious about doing that, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. The flip side, of course, is that we should also allow the past to judge us. And frankly, I reckon the people of the past would utterly condemn them. For our use of wealth and our obsession with comforts and so on. But that’s a discussion for another day. Equally important though, is this question. How did the 18th and 19th-century missionaries compare to secularists at the same time? Modern secularists like to compare themselves favourably to missionaries of centuries past, and then they use that comparison to criticize the modern church. Okay. But why not compare the views of 18th and 19th century missionaries on indigenous Australians with the mainstream view toward indigenous Australians at the same time. As soon as you do that, it becomes clear that missionaries were the closest thing First Nations people had to friends in the entire Enlightenment project. Only missionaries and church leaders dogmatically insisted against the tide of scientific secularism that Indigenous people were fully human, made in the image of God, and not a backward, forgotten step in the evolutionary history of humankind. You only need to read newspaper clippings from the 1800s, which I’ve done, and you’ll see that the only advocacy on behalf of Indigenous peoples was coming from missionaries and church leaders, not from the government, not from social elites, certainly not from scientific associations. In fact, these mainstream institutions were often the targets of stinging Christian criticism over mainstream treatment of Australian Aborigines. Now, none of this excuses bad missionary behaviour, but it highlights that the only consistent impulses toward the equal treatment of First Nations peoples came either from Indigenous people themselves or from the missionaries who served them. Missionaries were, of course, part of the colonial project, but they are also the reason the colonial project didn’t entirely wipe out indigenous people. It’s the missionary view that prevailed. I know this gets up the nose of secularists today, but the fact is secularists hold their enlightened humanitarian views about First Nations people because the Christian view planted in the 18th century came to full flowering in the 20th century. I thank God for that.

Producer Kaley:

Hey, Producer Kaley here. Our next question is about Anglicanism, one of the major denominations of Christianity and also the one that John ascribes to. Here’s the question sent in by Jimmy.

Jimmy:

Hey John, my name is Jimmy. I actually first saw you at the Calvary Global Network conference where you had spoken, 1 Peter. I’m actually a pastor in the Calvary Chapel Movement. I planted a church. In, uh, New York City, and we are, uh, looking to plant more churches in New York City. But I’ve also been on this crazy sort of journey as I had gone through seminary and got my master’s degree of just looking into more historical Christian expressions of the faith. And so I’ve looked at Lutheranism and Orthodoxy and Catholicism and all of it, and, and I’ve kind of come to a place where I’m most drawn to Anglicanism and found out that you are indeed Anglican. And so, would love if at some point ever, uh, you have a couple minutes to talk To sort of just chat with me specifically about Anglicanism and, and what that might look like to become, uh, Anglican appreciate everything you’re doing. Yeah. Praying for you, man.

Studio – John Dickson:

Jimmy. Great to hear from you. I remember that Calvary chapel conference, man, that was fun. Such a privilege. And I can’t believe producer Kaley let me have a question about Anglicanism. I’m really glad, Jimmy, that you’re diving into church history. I think everyone deserves a little bit of church history. I think everyone deserves a little bit of church history. Now, I would never want discussions like this to become sectarian or favour one narrow brand of Christianity. That’s not what Undeceptions is about. My view, which you might’ve picked up from the show, is that any form of Christianity that affirms the great creeds, the Apostles Creed, the Nicene Creed, and the Athanasian Creed, is genuine Christianity, even though all of us, to some degree, are a little messed up. But here is my simple two-fold pitch for Anglicanism. One, it’s a genuine Reformation church, not a radical break with Christianity. Anglicanism represents a real reformation of the English-speaking church, not a complete rupture with Christian history, which is what a lot of the Reformation churches were about. The founders of the Anglican church didn’t think everything in the previous 1500 years of church history was wrong. Instead, they believed that the gospel of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection for our salvation should be a guiding principle, perhaps the guiding principle to do a bunch of things like delete heretical traditions, of course, but amend unhealthy practices, refocus what had lost its purpose, and, importantly, retain what still pointed people to Christ. In this sense, Anglicanism isn’t really a breakaway denomination. It’s just the reformed version of the ancient English-speaking church. But here’s my second point. It’s about the Book of Common Prayer. The Book of Common Prayer, the acknowledged foundation of the entire Anglican movement, is, in my view, the most important text ever composed in English. Really. It’s essentially a manual for the spiritual life. It guides people through daily times of prayer and public worship, all deeply rooted in scripture. It’s focused on the sovereignty of God, the Father, the achievements of Christ, and the ongoing work of the Spirit in every aspect of life. While it’s probably helpful to get a modern rendering of this old English text, I’d recommend finding one that sticks closely to the original and avoids adding too many newfangled things. Of course, much, much more can and should be said about this, but for now, let’s just touch base offline. Email me at Undeceptions, and we’ll have a good old chat. Thanks again.

Director Mark:

This next question deals with the idea of the resurrection. Here it is. “You’ve said before that most questions about the faith have an answer written by someone somewhere in a book. I have a question that I have yet to find a satisfying answer to. How will the resurrection of our bodies occur if our bodies are made of atoms? And scientifically speaking, atoms of decomposed bodies get recycled into other living things, like other humans. We’d love to hear your thoughts. Cheers, Aaron.”

Studio – John Dickson 

Points for a brilliant question. Not only are the atoms in my hand made of stardust, but yes, some of them were once part of other human beings and will be again. Wild, isn’t it? It’s tempting at this point to lean toward a more platonic view, the idea that true existence is purely spiritual, where we’ll float around as disembodied souls forever. That kind of thinking is closer to Hindu philosophy or ancient Gnosticism than it is to Christianity. But if you’re going to draw on the ancient Christian tradition, and from the Bible, obviously, you can’t adopt this spirit only view. Christianity has always taught the resurrection of the body, our body, and the life everlasting, as the Apostle’s Creed puts it. The resurrection of Jesus isn’t just the proof of his greatness. It’s the down payment for the future resurrection of all who belong to the kingdom of God. As the Apostle Paul puts it in Philippians chapter three, Jesus himself will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like His glorious body. So here’s your big question. If our bodies are resurrected, how can individuals get their atoms back when those atoms have been shared by countless life forms, even other human beings? It’s a fantastic question. And as I always say, and you allude to, there’s probably no question you could ask of the Christian faith that hasn’t been tackled already by some nerd in some book in some library somewhere. And I’ve got the nerd and the book for you. The late John Polkinghorne, the professor of physics from Cambridge University who turned Anglican theologian, and his fascinating book, The God of Hope and Hope and the End of the World by Yale University Press. Polkinghorne dives straight into your question, though he expands it to consider the entire new creation. What happens to all the particles? He admits the Bible doesn’t directly answer this, but he points out something crucial. The Bible consistently describes both continuity and discontinuity between this creation and the new creation, between this body and the resurrection body. So just take Jesus body in Luke 24 after the resurrection. There’s continuity. He has a body. That eats fish and is recognizable. And yet there’s discontinuity. He appears in locked rooms as if he’s a ghost. He appears recognizable one minute and unrecognizable the other. Polkinghorne builds on this and suggests as a physicist that what God preserves in the resurrection is what he calls the information bearing pattern that makes you, you. This pattern often referred to as the soul, but not to be confused with like a ghost or spirit, is the thread of continuity that connects the child you once were to the person you are today, even though your body’s atoms have completely changed multiple times over. Here’s how Polkinghorne puts it”

“The soul must be the real me that links the boy of childhood to the aging academic of later life. If that area of continuity is not a separate spiritual component, what else could it be? It is certainly not material. The atoms that make up our bodies are continuously replaced in the course of wear and tear, eating and drinking. We have very few atoms in our bodies today that were there even two years ago. What does appear to be the carrier of continuity is this immensely complex information bearing pattern in which the matter is organized.”

So what Polkinghorne proposes is that God the Creator, who made everything out of nothing, can preserve the information pattern that is you and me. And in the resurrection, he’ll match it to the glorious body that is both continuous and discontinuous with the one you have now. I hope that helps and blows your mind a little.

 Producer Kaley:

If you’re interested in learning more about the resurrection, we did a whole episode on it. Check out episode 121, The Resurrection, with Richard Borkum. Researcher Al has put a link in the show notes. We’ll be back with more questions in just a minute.

*Break 1*

Sarah Irving – Stonbraker:
The beginnings of it all started to happen at Cambridge because I was exploring the relationship between early modern scientists and the British Empire. So what that meant was I had to read the work of people we now refer to as the founders of modern science. So these are people like Robert Boyle, who’s credited with the origins of modern chemistry, Robert Hooke, Boyle and Hooke are also really important in founding the experimental method, John Locke, Francis Bacon. And the reason why that’s started to chip away at my atheism was that the more I read of their work, the more I realized that not only were they men of deep Christian faith, but that their theology was absolutely central to their intellectual work.

John:
But wasn’t the whole God thing just a given in those days like everyone was notionally a Christian

Sarah Irving-Stonbraker:
Yeah, well, this is what I thought too at first and so I initially I thought oh, I’m gonna dismiss This is a kind of tokenistic thing But then the more I read and particularly the more I read their scientific what we now refer to as their scientific work the more I realized that no Fundamental Christian ideas are at the heart of their work

Producer Kaley:

That was Friend of the Podcast, Dr. Sarah Irving Stonebreaker, talking with John way back in Season 1, in Episode 9, Dominus Illuminatio. Part of Sarah’s conversion story was realising that there was a rich history of Christians engaging with intellectual and scientific concepts. We spend a lot of time here at Undeceptions highlighting how some of history’s greatest minds have combined faith and reason. But some people do go the other way. Plenty of great thinkers have weighed the claims of Christianity against history, philosophy, and science, and decided that they don’t believe. Our next question is about these people. This one’s from Isaac.

Isaac:

Hi, John. My name is Isaac. I live in Germany. Really appreciate all the work that you do, um, listen to a lot of your Undeceptions podcasts, and really enjoy them and appreciate it. You came and spoke at an educator’s conference that I was a part of several years ago, and I’ve really kind of followed your work since then. So I really appreciate you and what all you and the team and what you guys all do. And what I really appreciate is your historical approach to Christianity, rooting the faith in its history and its past and using that to show the truth of it. So I think that’s, that’s really great and I’ve learned a lot that I pass on to my students from you. My question is a question about that, that issue, I guess, historical, the historical rootedness of the faith. So, one thing that’s kind of bothered me for a while now is the fact that secularism grew up within the context of a Christendom, that Christendom was sort of undermined from within, it seems. And one of the things that happened was that Christian biblical scholars and thinkers, when studying the text and the historical events behind the text, came to the conclusion – many of them that the texts were faulty or that what they recorded was not exactly true. I guess I’m thinking particularly about, you know, maybe German scholars in the 17th and 18th centuries. Yeah, I’m just wondering what your thoughts about are about how did people who were Biblical scholars who believed that the Bible was God’s revelation and they were trained in that, what led them to the conclusion that it wasn’t? I really appreciate your work defending the Christian faith from a historical perspective, but how is it that in the, that these people were led down the road to believe that the Bible was maybe just another book, or that the Bible contained a lot of errors or was, was false in some way? So yeah, I’d love your thoughts about that and appreciate all that you and the team do.

Studio – John Dickson:

Isaac, thank you. I remember that German educators conference. Wasn’t that in the Black Forest? What a beautiful place. I would love to go back there. So I’ll be waiting by the phone for your call. You’re right that the developments of the renaissance through humanism and into the enlightenment produced a lot of doubt and a lot of falling away from the Christian faith. German scholarship in particular became like an epicenter of doubt, with figures like Samuel Hermann Reimarus, David Strauss, and later Rudolf Bultmann, all basically saying nothing in Christianity can be believed anymore. It’s all historical made up junk. But honestly, I don’t think this was because of any particular insight from the Renaissance or Enlightenment that undermined the faith. Instead, I think it had more to do with the spirit of autonomy that arose in that period. Tradition no longer held the same authority. Individual insight became primary. So people felt free. Free to question the church and go their own way. That’s been the story of academia, especially in the humanities, ever since. At the same time, it’s worth remembering that the same renaissance and humanism that produced a sceptic like Voltaire also produced Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and later the theological giants Hermann Bavink or Karl Barth. This is basically the theological marvel universe. So, my point is, it’s a mixed story. That’s why I think the departure of many from the Christian faith in this period wasn’t just about discovering insights that undermined Christianity. The Enlightenment was more this giant intellectual choose your own adventure. It gave us the best and the worst of everything humanity desired. And here’s something specific about Germany. You rightly point out that it became a hotbed of scepticism in the 19th and early 20th centuries, but New Testament scholarship itself has seen quite a transformation in recent decades … in Germany! It was standard once upon a time to dismiss the New Testament as having almost no historical value. But over the last 40 years, there’s been this significant recovery of confidence in the Gospels as broadly historical. Take the inestimable Jens Schurter from Humboldt University in Berlin. He is one of the most respected voices in German New Testament history studies. Writing in 2013, he writes about the whole guild these words”

“In recent research, (he means the last three decades or so), one can discern a clear tendency to grant the Gospels the status of historical sources, thus to view their Jesus narratives beyond the faith convictions that undoubtedly came to expression in them. As also relevant in historical perspective.”

This signifies, he says, a turning point in Jesus research to the extent that they were denied this status for quite some time. As I said, it’s mixed, but in the end, people don’t make up their minds about Christianity based purely on evidence or intellect. More often than not evidence and intellect serve our desires and preferences. And that’s what the modern world inherited from the Renaissance, humanism, and the enlightenment. Powerful intellectual tools, yes, but also a burning desire to chart our own path without mother church, breathing down our necks.

Director Mark:

Our next question comes from our Facebook page, posted by Jen. Why are both New Testament genealogies focused on Joseph’s lineage, despite him not being related to Jesus biologically? Was Mary a descendant of David? How do we know? Thanks

Studio – John Dickson:

Thanks Jen. The genealogies in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke pose numerous problems. Reconciling them has been a fun scholarly party for centuries. They are different enough to produce about seven or eight academic proposals, including of course that the whole thing is just invented. But there are numerous ways to approach them as basically in harmony. Personally, I’ve never gone for that kind of harmonizing apologetics. The historian in me just wants to stand back and notice that they are pretty similar for the first couple of generations before Jesus. And they both stress the lineage of Jesus to King David. So that’s not bad historical evidence that the family of Jesus was remembered as belonging to the family of David. But you’re asking a more straightforward question. Why do both genealogies go back through Joseph instead of Mary, when according to Luke and Matthew, Joseph wasn’t physically involved in the production of Jesus? I always think the first thing we should ponder when we come across a question like this is that Matthew and Luke probably weren’t idiots. If they wrote about both the virgin birth and the genealogy through Joseph, there must be some reason why that wasn’t a problem for them. You’ve got to give them the benefit of the doubt. Now, there’s certainly a decent possibility that Mary herself was a descendant of David. It was very common for families to betroth their children to other families with similar heritages. But honestly, I don’t think we need to worry about that kind of explanation. So I’ve got one speculation for you. It’s pretty wild. And one historical observation that’s pretty mundane. First, my crazy speculation. I see no problem with God giving Jesus, miraculously, paternal DNA from Joseph. Think about it. If Jesus was human, and he was, he would have had male DNA, right? I mean, if we gave him a blood test, he’d have an X and a Y chromosome. The Y chromosome had to come from a male. So my question is, which male? Of course, sure, God could have created paternal DNA out of nothing, but I don’t see any problem with God actually using Joseph’s DNA. In that case, Jesus would be biologically Joseph’s son, even with a virgin birth. Okay, you can do with that what you like. Now, the simpler, more mundane solution. According to Jewish custom and law, an adopted son was regarded as a blood son. No distinction at all. Leverite marriage, you may have heard of this, is a good example. When a husband dies, the widow marries the husband’s brother. And the resulting children are legally considered descendants of the dead husband. Some people even think this explains the discrepancies in the genealogies. But that’s for another discussion. My simple point is this, while we might have a modern biological quibble about Jesus being a descendant of Joseph, Matthew and Luke writing from their cultural perspective would have no issue seeing Jesus as Joseph’s legitimate descendant and, therefore, a son of David, even if Joseph never had sex with Mary.

Producer Kaley:

Okay, this question touches on the idea of comparative religion. That’s a field of study that looks at the similarities and differences between beliefs. It’s a topic we’ll have much more to say on next season, but we’ll look at it briefly now. This question comes from Jesse. Here it is. “I don’t really know how to word this, but could you please shed some light on John Marco Allegro and his input and research with the Dead Sea Scrolls? I’ve heard Joe Rogan talk about him and his book, The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross. I don’t know much about him or his books, but would love to get your insight.” Okay, that’s the question. Here’s a piece of the Joe Rogan episode that Jesse is referring to.

Joe Rogan:
They, they realize this is the oldest version of the Bible by far, and it’s the, I think it’s in Aramaic, it’s one of the only ones in Aramaic, and at the end of this translation, over 14 years, John Marco Allegro writes a book called The Sacred Mushroom in the Cross, and he says the entire religion was a misunderstanding, and what it was originally about was psychedelic mushrooms and fertility rituals, and that that’s what Created this religion these people were taking mushrooms and they were experiencing God and they were having Fertility rituals because they were trying to be as bountiful and have as many babies as possible And that’s what the Bible was originally all about now, by the way, it’s heavily disputed A lot of people don’t agree with them. A lot of people think it’s blasphemy But the fact remains that this guy was a legit scholar, rock solid credentials, not a drug addict, not a, not a, not a guy who even did psychedelics. But it was his interpretation after all this time that these, a lot of the things in the story had meanings that would go back to psychedelic mushrooms. And one of them was the word Christ. He said you could trace the word Christ back to an ancient Sumerian word that meant a mushroom covered in God’s semen.

Studio – John Dickson:

I’ll be honest with you, Jesse. Allegro did some legitimate work on the Dead Sea Scrolls themselves, though he was criticized even for that. But his ideas about the fertility origins of Christianity have convinced precisely no one in New Testament scholarship, regardless of their religious perspective. His views matter not because they’re scholarly, but because people like Joe Rogan endorse them as you point out, it’s not relevant to the field, but it is relevant, I guess, to the public. As I understand it, Rogan is into psychedelics, so it’s no surprise that he’s drawn to the idea that Christianity started as a magic sex cult, where people ate magic mushrooms as the key sacrament and then experienced oneness with the universe and with each other. According to Allegro, to see this secret Christianity that’s been there all along, you have to ignore the actual words of the New Testament, along with the Greek and Roman authors who report about Jesus, and instead, what you have to do is focus on the secret etymology of key words, like the word “Jesus”. In Allegro’s view, Jesus is code for a particular psychedelic mushroom. Nevermind that Jesus was also the fifth most popular boy’s name in Israel at the time. The real meaning, he claims, is all about the drugs and the sex. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Allegro’s views on the origins of Christianity have about as much credibility among ancient historians as the moon landing denial has at NASA. By the way, Joe Rogan doubts the moon landing too.

*Break 2*

Clip from ‘The Patriot’

Studio – John Dickson:

That’s a clip from the American Revolutionary War epic, The Patriot, from the year 2000. It stars Australian A-listers Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger. But they’re acting as Americans. They pulled it off, I think, but I’d love to hear what Americans actually think of it. In fact, Buff and I just coincidentally watched this movie last week with Josie and it’s awesome. Especially there’s this scene overlooking Charleston and I love Charleston, South Carolina. I have lots of friends down there. Hello to all my besties in Charleston. Anyhow, this particular scene gets at a really interesting tension that still exists in the world today. The place of patriotism within the church. Heath Ledger in that clip specifically goes to a church to recruit soldiers for the revolution against the British. The history does tell us that clergy and churchgoers played an important role in the conflict. And we’ve linked to an article you can see in the show notes. We’ve looked at the problematic theology behind the American version of Christian nationalism in the episode American Evangelical. That’s number 129. It also touched on the problems of church based nationalism in our Dietrich Bonhoeffer podcast. That’s number 139. But what about normal patriotism, love of country? Does that have a place in our in Christianity, or is it a real red flag? Our next question gets at this. It’s an audio question from Ben.

Ben:

Hey, John, Ben here, a minister in Sydney. I want to say a massive thank you for your Underceptions podcast. I found it profoundly helpful over many years. Recently, I’ve been listening to your podcast. Uh, on American evangelicalism and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. And my question is, uh, something I’ve noticed from those podcasts, and something I’ve been thinking about particularly recently after hearing about books such as Jesus and John Wayne and, and a few other books in that similar vein, is, The damage that patriotism can have on evangelical Christianity. Listening to your American Evangelicalism podcast, for example, it seems like many of the issues in those circles come when Christians stop thinking about their identity when primarily as being a child of God and start to think also about their identity primarily as being an American or as, you know, an Australian or from whatever country they’re coming from. And similar in the Bonhoeffer episode, it seemed like many of the issues for the church came when the church stopped thinking about what does it mean to be a Christian and started thinking about what does it mean to be a German Christian. In other words, there are these patriotic ties to their German heritage that caused a lot of their problems. I’m just wondering if you could speak into this a little bit and talk about how you feel about patriotism and whether we as Christians should flee from that due to the the way it potentially dehumanizes others and makes them seem lesser because they’re not of our race. You know, I think about the treatment of refugees and the treatment of people from other backgrounds to our own, or whether you think there is a place for patriotism and whether it can be helpful, both historically in Christian circles and also for the modern evangelical church?

Studio – John Dickson:

Well, Ben, thanks for such an easy question … not. Actually, the theological answer is probably. Straight forward enough. Jesus and the apostles consistently urged their hearers to see themselves first and foremost as citizens of another kingdom shaped by the values of God, not the values of any particular nation. You can see this everywhere in Jesus teaching, but it’s especially clear in the opening words of the Sermon Matthew’s gospel, we call these words The Beatitudes. Now, everything in the Beatitudes seems to stand against the nationalistic mindset of dominating others, starting with the Roman enemies. And against this, Jesus says, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who Who mourn. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. The contrast with the nationalistic spirit of the day couldn’t be more striking. For example, there’s a Jewish nationalist song that I’m pretty sure I’ve read before on Undeceptions that was written just after the Romans arrived and conquered Judea, and just a little before Jesus arrived on the scene. The song says,:

“The kingdom of our God is forever over the nations in judgment. See, O Lord, raise up for your people their king, the son of David, undergird him with the strength to destroy the unrighteous rulers, to purge Jerusalem from Gentiles, to smash the arrogance of sinners like a potter’s jar, and their king shall be the Lord Messiah.”

That’s from the Psalms of Solomon, chapter 17, if you’re interested. Now imagine having that nationalistic sentiment and then hearing Jesus talk about the meek inheriting the earth, or the peacemakers being the true children of God. At the very, very least, Jesus is demanding that his followers live by the values of the future kingdom over the values of any particular present nation. Since these are the first recorded words of Jesus in the gospel of Matthew, we have to take them seriously. The Beatitudes serve as a kind of interpretative key for unlocking the whole message of Jesus. Another favorite passage of mine that relates to this question is in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. In chapter three, Paul explicitly contrasts living by the culture of your day with living for our true citizenship. He says, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their God is their stomach and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things, but our citizenship – ‘Polytuma‘ in Greek – is in heaven. And Paul returns to this theme throughout the whole letter really. And Philippi was a really proud Roman colony, and its residents were deeply anxious to exalt the privileges and favors that the emperor had bestowed on this city. And in Philippians chapter one, verse 27, Paul uses a citizenship related verb when he writes the very first injunction of the letter. Here it is:

“Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.”

The phrase, conduct yourself in a manner, translates a Greek verb, “politu esthe.” It refers to behaving as a citizen. It’s the word that gives us all of our words about politics. Paul is explicitly saying that our true citizenship, our values, our very constitution is not Roman, nor Australian, nor even American. It’s got to be rooted in the Gospel of Christ. I love how Marcus Bokmul puts this in his commentary on Philippians (Bokmul is a great Oxford New Testament scholar). He writes:

“Against the colonial preoccupation with the coveted citizenship of Rome, Paul interposes a counter citizenship, whose capital and seat of power are not earthly, but heavenly, whose guarantor is not Nero but Christ. Philippi may be a colony enjoying the personal imperial patronage of Lord Caesar, but the church at Philippi is a personal colony of Christ, the Lord above all.”

Man, I love it. So, as I say, the theology of all this is simple. Any Christian who sees themselves first as an Australian or an American and secondarily as a Christian is living at odds with their Christianity. The central biblical principle is that we must be willing cheerfully to sacrifice or criticize any value of our nation that contradicts the values of the kingdom of our true citizenship. But there’s also an important point to make about language. Personally, I make a distinction between nationalism. and patriotism. Nationalism is, to my mind, a devotion to a geographical place. It’s a commitment to the land and structures and institutions and people within a certain border. A nationalist stays loyal to that nation, even if that nation’s values shift in ways that are contrary to Christianity. That’s a nationalist. Patriotism, on the other hand, comes from the word “fathers”, and it refers more to a love for the heritage of a place rather than an allegiance to the place itself. Patriots value the ideals and traditions handed down by the ancestors, especially when they align with God’s kingdom. Now, this distinction explains why a patriot can sometimes appear anti nationalist. For example, a patriot might cherish values like charity, equality, free speech, and then notice that the nation is turning its back on those very values. In that case, the true patriot will be opposed to the nationalist. Christians won’t be nationalists, but they absolutely can be patriots, people who love their country’s best traditions, particularly those traditions that reflect the kingdom of God. And they may even be willing to fight for those traditions, but a true patriot will also be. Criticize their own nation when it departs from the good. I hope that makes sense.

Producer Kaley:

Here’s our last question for regular listeners. John’s actually answered two more, one on creationism and the other on the book of Daniel and the end times, but they’re just for plus subscribers head to undeceptions. com forward slash plus to sign up and get a bunch of extras and extended episodes. This question comes from Deb. If, as you say, Jesus is a man of peace, and we are to turn the other cheek to personal violence and mistreatment, rather than hit him back, how does this, or even does this, apply to governments, or men or women who God has charged to protect family members and citizens? Is violence to establish peace ever the answer? What about Christians serving within governments who are battling terrorism or wars of aggression? Should they promote turn the other cheek policies? Is that not an open invitation to being abused? And are we called to live in peace when being attacked by terrorists or fundamentalists? Or should we defend ourselves?

Studio – John Dickson:

Thanks, Deb. This question deserves a whole episode. In fact, we touched on some of this in episode 55, titled Just War. Go and have a listen to that if you haven’t already. It might help flesh out some of the ideas. There’s no doubt that Jesus hated violence and urged peace. All that stuff about blessed are the meek, they’ll inherit the earth. Blessed are the peacemakers, they’ll be called just and Children of God. He also famously taught us to love our enemies and turn the other cheek as you point out. So on the surface, it all sounds very pacifist. However, there’s a little small technical point that’s worth noting. The turn the other cheek stuff seems to be primarily about interpersonal relationships. It’s about responding to personal insult, the slap on the cheek, rather than a formal doctrine of violence or conflict at the larger societal, let alone governmental level. Does it apply to governments or larger societal structures? I think that’s less clear. There’s a mix of evidence in the Bible, even with Jesus. On the one hand, yes, God’s people are meant to be peacemakers in the world and Christians are forbidden from extending God’s kingdom through force. On the other hand, Jesus didn’t outright reject all forms of violence or military activity. Here’s a few things to hold in mind. At least they’ve given me pause over the years. In John 10, Jesus attended the Hanukkah festival, which celebrates the Maccabean military victory over the Greek tyrant Antiochus, the fourth epiphanies. This was a war event. He didn’t criticize. He actually went there to praise God. He interacted with Roman centurions, uh, both he and John the Baptist did without suggesting their roles as soldiers were in any way wrong. In Luke 14, Jesus used the example of a wise war preparation as a positive analogy for counting the cost of discipleship. In Luke 22, just before his arrest, he even told his disciples to buy a sword. Not to defend him, not to attack anyone, but probably for self-defense. Jesus didn’t want them getting wound up in what was about to happen to him. None of this aligns with a strict interpretation of pacifism. At least I don’t think so. The perspective fits really well though with what the apostle Paul taught in Romans 12 and Romans 13, because this also informed the church’s view about violence. In Romans 12, Paul insists that Christians must never use violence to further their own causes or God’s kingdom. Instead, they are to return evil with good and respond with love. This all echoes the Sermon on the Mount, but then you turn the page over. Romans 13. Paul recognizes that governments may use force to defend the public good, to restrain evil. And Paul says that Roman authorities do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath, to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. This doesn’t negate the central call of the Sermon on the Mount, or of Romans 12, to seek Peace above all else and never use force to extend Christian influence or God’s kingdom. I’ve said before many times, the only tools Christ gave the church to do the work of the kingdom are prayer, persuasion, service, and suffering. Prayer, persuasion, service, and suffering. However, governments under their God-given authority may legitimately use the sword to protect against evil and to maintain justice. That’s what the Apostle taught. This wasn’t an issue for Christians in the first three centuries, as they had no involvement in government and left the fighting to Roman officials. But in the late 4th and early 5th centuries, with many Christians beginning to hold government positions, the question arose: Can Christians engage in violence in their roles as citizens or officials? It was a good question. And the only person really equipped to answer it was St. Augustine. He provided the answer. Drawing on both Jesus and Paul, he maintained that the ultimate aim of any engagement through force must be peace. Now, he made clear that violence can never be used to advance God’s kingdom, but since governments are tasked with using the sword to protect the innocent and punish evil, it is permissible, He said, for Christians to participate in this activity, not as a means of spreading the gospel, not as a means of spreading the kingdom, but as a way of serving their neighbors and friends as citizens. From these reflections, Augustine developed the framework that we call just war theory. Go listen to episode 55 to get all the details, but the basic outline is this: just war must respond to an actual evil or injustice. It must never be preemptive. Proportionality: the response must not exceed the evil being addressed. Honor in victory: those who surrender must be treated humanely. And restoration: the war must be fought in a way that doesn’t diminish the humanity of the defeated. Now, we can debate whether any war in history has actually ever ended up being a just war on these principles, but this way of looking at things from Augustine has shaped the Western view of warfare. Finally, Augustine makes a crucial point. He ends his discussion by saying that no just person, and certainly no Christian should ever think of war as good or the cause of celebration, even when forced to use violence for the sake of others, because it is just, it has to be done, he said, with tears and only ever with the aim of establishing peace.

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