For centuries the story of the prodigal son has been called “the gospel in the Gospel.” If across the centuries this is the way the church has seen this parable, how is it that the atonement appears to be missing in the story? If the cross is essential for forgiveness, why does it seem to be absent in this parable?

If this kind of question intrigues you…stay tuned! I’m going to be updating my front page with a series of reflections from Kenneth Bailey’s The Cross and the Prodigal: Luke 15 Through the Eyes of Middle Eastern Peasants.


Monday, October 27, 2008

Letter to friend on baptism

Hi Jim:

Thanks so much for responding to my initial email. It’s music to my ears to read from you: “Discussing these things is right where I’m at…” I wish I could write like you at the computer screen. I have to work with pencil and paper, then enter it. (Thus, I’m writing you from one of the many panaderías (bakeries), drinking a nice cup of Venezuelan coffee, looking over a hard copy of your email.) I so identify with your longing to “understand the revelation of God through his word and how it affects transformational change in our lives”. That expresses the journey I’m on, too.

I must say that the kind of brokenness you encounter on your journey seems more severe than what we face in Venezuela. At least of the three emerging house churches, one has a rather stable family at the core (Elizabeth and Tati), economically they’re above the survival mode and come from a relatively stable family background. The other two groups are deeper in economic poverty, though still not as broken as your folks. In these two cases (Maria and Antonio, and Luisa and Gonzalo) they are surrounded by very broken people and broken homes, but they themselves are the care-givers within their family clans. Thus, the people we’re investing the most in are almost islands of relative stability amidst a sea of instability and brokenness. What makes them stable is that each of the emerging groups has a family at the core that is whole – husband, wife and kids (even as I write this, though, in our last visit to Maria and Antonio, she was so tired of the lawlessness and apathy in their neighborhood that she was talking like if Antonio doesn’t do something serious by the end of the year to move somewhere out of the frying pan, then she’ll leave with the kids).

Thanks for sharing about baptism. What a big topic; and a difficult one. I bet that you’ve been very clear in your teaching on baptism. You’re such a good, solid, conscientious teacher. One thought is that baptism will never be a guarantee of faithfulness. Even though couples continue getting divorces, we still keep marrying them and believing in public vows.

I do think we need to re-consider baptism both theologically and logistically. By theologically I mean we have to ask the question: Biblically speaking, what is the point of baptism? Is it my obedience? Or is it something else? (Maybe to exalt what God has done…his saving act which has welcomed me into his family?). By logistically, I mean the question: What alternatives exist between the two extremes of immediate dunking on the one hand and “lengthy classes and a testing period” on the other?

I think the impulse for many of our logistical ideas is pragmatic. That is, we approach baptism as a tool to be maximized for people’s faith development. How can we do baptism in such a way that will lead to the greatest chance of the person succeeding as a disciple of Christ? But is this the right question?

If the point is to make baptism “work”; that is, to maximize its use as a means for our faithfulness, then I think we will come up with lots of interesting ideas…from George Patterson’s “do it right away” approach (so that a habit of obedient responses is cultivated and nurtured as a Christian lifestyle from the get-go), to requiring a testing period and classes in order to ensure (as much as possible) the on-going faithfulness of those baptized.

Another way of looking at the logistical question is through the lenses of form and function; form referring to symbols and structures and functions referring to lived reality, that which is experienced. Fernando Mora of the Venezuelan Vineyard that we’re partnering with, and who is coaching us, believes in putting function before form. Thus he would say, help the people live the truth of baptism (a life of being dead to sin and the power of death, and alive to God’s gifts, etc. a la Romans 6), be patient and keep on teaching and orienting your people, making space for them to learn about baptism. Then, when the form of baptism can confirm the function (that which is already being lived), then encourage them to take that step. As I write this I realize that what motivates Fernando to do it this way is because he is consciously working against a religious-orientation that interprets forms, like the act of baptism, as a hoop that provides the individual with an objective status (“now I’m on the right side of the fence. I’m okay.”), yet without the subjective reality (that is, experiencially being headed toward Christ, in a growing relationship with Christ). Paul Hiebert’s theory of bounded sets vs centered sets is helpful in this.

If we focus on people‚s relationship with God, rather than people‚s beliefs
or actions, as central to defining who is within a community‚s boundary we
will end up having boundary lines of a very different character. Paul
Hiebert a missionary anthropologist offers a description of these two
different approaches. He calls one a bounded group and the other a centered
group. In general terms a bounded group creates a list of essential
characteristics that determine whether a person belongs to that group or
not. Anyone who meets the requirements is considered “in”. Hiebert explains
that bounded groups have a clear boundary line that is static and allows for
a uniform definition of those who are within the group. In contrast a
centered group is created by defining a center and observing a person’s
relationship to the center. He states that some people may be far from the
center, but they are moving toward the center, therefore they are part of
the centered group. On the other hand, some people may be close to the
center, but may be moving away from it, and therefore are not part of the
centered group. The group is made up of all objects moving toward the
center. Therefore one can still make a distinction between those who are
“in” and “out”, but the focus is on the center itself and not the boundary.
The people within the group will not necessarily be uniform in their
characteristics, but they will be heading the same direction. (Received the quote in an email from Mark Baker.)

My guess is that most of us don’t go any deeper than this kind of logistical question. We don’t question the deeper theological question of what the point of baptism is. Most people in our circles are satisfied with “it’s a matter of our obedience.” Yet, like Fernando, I suspect that the “me-orientation” of my obedience as the point of baptism invites a human-oriented / religious orientation to the Christian life.

The delayed baptism for the sake of a testing period is also a “me-orientation”, because the point is becoming “ready” or obedient enough to receive baptism. This logistical solution is all about us, the humans. I wonder if such a message is actually good news. It could instead create fear and apprehension. T. F. Torrance writes in The Mediation of Christ, pp. 99-100:

“The holy sacraments, baptism and eucharist, are acts of human response to the proclamation of the gospel…they are above all divinely provided…we recall that in the divinely instituted form and order of worship described in the Old Testament the people of Israel were not allowed to come before God with any kind of offering or sacrifice of their own choosing, or with some liturgy they had invented for themselves. From beginning to end all cultic acts were ordained by God and were to be regarded as the provision he had made…so it is in the new covenant in which the divinely instituted forms of human response vicariously provided in Jesus Christ are represented by baptism and eucharist which replace the rites of circumcision and Passover…they are sacraments which by their nature direct us away from ourselves to Jesus Christ in whom all God’s blessings for us are embodied, out of whose fullness we receive grace for grace. Granted that they are responses which we are commanded to make in our worship of God, they are nevertheless not sacraments of what we do but of what Christ Jesus has done in our place and on our behalf…”

Mark Baker’s Religious No More has a helpful section on what he refers to as religion versus revelation -- He borrows the key illustration from Jacques Ellul. The illustration is simply two arrows…one points upward, the other points downward. It’s so simple, but it provides a great framework for differentiating between biblical Christianity which is God acting first, initiating toward us – marked by the downward arrow (what Ellul refers to as, revelation). Then, religious Christianity that emphasizes human actions toward God – marked by the upward arrow (something much deeper and insidious than the typical “works” orientation that we fear so much). Parenthetically, the two arrows paradigm become so helpful to Steve Scharf and I that we would as a matter of routine walk out of a church service, look at each other, and remark “Pura flecha para arriba…ayúdame!– only the upward arrow…give me some air! An all-too-common experience in many churches.

I love the way you articulate this in your teaching. You have been a wonderful example and an inspiration to many with the vivid strokes you’ve painted of God as the One we so desperately need. In your email you write: More than ever I don’t take for granted this kind of teaching. I can see more clearly today than I did five years ago why you so passionately insist on it. (And the coolest thing is that I learned it first hand from the way God snuck up on me through my experiences in Caracas of getting held up, to teach me some life lessons that I hadn’t been open to, much less able to initiate movement on. But I saw how clearly God initiated, ambushing me in his love and patience. I see also more clearly how slow and stubborn I am, which has given me greater patience with those we minister among.)

This thing of God being the initiator and the master lover is bedrock, isn’t it? I can’t get away from it. Some examples of the ways I’ve been trying to re-orient pastors here is:
• The creation story; how a day according to God begins when we are resting, “it was evening and morning, the first day.” Eugene Peterson inspired me with this insight a few years ago.
• The pattern of Paul’s letters. It’s interesting how Paul’s letters are usually divided quite cleanly between the early chapters which exalt God and what he has accomplished for us. Then the second part of the letters delve into the exhortations, clearly as a human response to God’s initiative which is celebrated first. This is evident even in many individual verses from Paul, “By the mercies of God…offer your bodies…” (highlights God’s action first, then our response). Ephesiasn 5.1 “as beloved children, etc…” Our theme verse here has become: “We love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19).
• The deep well illustration from UNOH. I love this story and it puts in helpful imagery Paul Hiebert’s bounded vs centered group theory.

With this I have to bring it to a close. (We didn’t even get to the issue of individual vs family baptism or other issues like how folk religions give their own twist to Catholic baptism; here baptism is seen as a way to make sure the baby has protection from evil spirits.)

Gratefully together on the journey,

John in Caracas

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