The Divine Magician: The Disappearance of Religion and the Discovery of Faith

by Peter Rollins

In this mind-bending exploration of traditional Christianity, firebrand Peter Rollins turns the tables on conventional wisdom, offering a fresh perspective focused on a life filled with love.

Peter Rollins knows one magic trick--now, make sure you watch closely. It has three parts: the Pledge, the Turn, and the Prestige. In Divine Magician, each part comes into play as he explores a radical view of interacting with the world in love.

Rollins argues that the Christian event, reenacted in the Eucharist, is indeed a type of magic trick, one that is echoed in the great vanishing acts performed by magicians throughout the ages. In this trick, a divine object is presented to us (the Pledge), disappears (the Turn), and then returns (the Prestige). But just as the returned object in a classic vanishing act is not really the same object--but another that looks the same--so this book argues that the return of God is not simply the return of what was initially presented, but rather a radical way of interacting with the world. In an effort to unearth the power of Christianity, Rollins uses this framework to explain the mystery of faith that has been lost on the church. In the same vein as Rob Bell's bestseller Love Wins, this book pushes the boundaries of theology, presenting a stirring vision at the forefront of re-imagined modern Christianity.

As a dynamic speaker as he is in writing, Rollins examines traditional religious notions from a revolutionary and refreshingly original perspective. At the heart of his message is a life lived through profound love. Just perhaps, says Rollins, the radical message found in Christianity might be one that the church can show allegiance to.

Genres: Theology, Spirituality, Nonfiction, Philosophy, Christianity, Religion, Faith

209 pages, Paperback

First published May 6, 2014

About the author

Peter Rollins is a Northern Irish writer, public speaker, philosopher and theologian who is a prominent figure in Postmodern Christianity.

Drawing largely from various strands of Continental Philosophy, Rollins' early work operated broadly from within the tradition of Apophatic Theology, while his more recent books have signaled a move toward the theory and practice of Radical Theology. In these books Rollins develops a "religionless" interpretation of Christianity called Pyrotheology, an interpretation that views faith as a particular way of engaging with the world rather than a way of believing things about the world.

In contrast to the dominant reading of Christianity, this more existential approach argues that faith has nothing to do with upholding a religious identity, affirming a particular set of beliefs or gaining wholeness through conversion. Instead he has developed an approach that sees Christianity as a critique of these very things. This anti-religious reading stands against the actual existing church and lays the groundwork for an understanding of faith as a type of life in which one is able to celebrate doubt, ambiguity and complexity while deepening ones care and concern for the world. As an outspoken critic of “worldview Christianity” he argues that the event which gave rise to the Christian tradition cannot itself be reduced to a tradition, but is rather a way of challenging traditions, rendering them fluid and opening them up to the new. This event cannot then be understood as a religious, cultural or political system, but is a way of life that operates within such systems.

In order to explore and promote these themes Rollins has founded a number of experimental communities such as ikon and ikonNYC. These groups describe themselves as iconic, apocalyptic, heretical, emerging and failing and engage in the performance of what they call 'transformance art' and the creation of "suspended space." Because of their rejection of "worldview Christianity" and embrace of suspended space these groups purposelessly attempt to attract people with different political perspectives and opposing views concerning the existence of God and the nature of the world.

Although Rollins does not directly identify with the emerging church movement,he has been a significant influence on the movement's development. As a freelance speaker and popular writer, Rollins operates broadly outside the walls of an academic institution, and currently lives in Greenwich, Connecticut. His most influential book to date is How (Not) To Speak Of God (2006).

Reviews

[Rebecca · Rating 2 out of 5]

I first encountered Pete Rollins at Greenbelt Festival. He’s a crazy Irish philosopher and postmodern theologian with possibly the most disorganized lecture style I’ve ever witnessed, but his writing is very logical and clear. I highly recommend his first book, How (Not) to Speak of God. That one felt groundbreaking and iconoclastic (in a good way). Unfortunately, since then his books have gone steadily downhill for me. So, for instance, Insurrection has some good ideas, but is repetitive and only has one stand-out chapter. Perhaps being too prolific is the problem: it would be better if Rollins let ideas germinate and published one longer book every five years rather than one thin one every year or two.

In essence, The Divine Magician argues that the sacred-object, whatever we believe “can offer us wholeness and lasting pleasure,” is an illusion. Believing in it and obsessing about it will only lead to dissatisfaction. For instance, the forbidden fruit was a sacred object for Adam and Eve; the prohibition on it was what gave it (false) value. Rollins extrapolates this to the Holy of Holies in the Hebrew Temple: behind the curtain was...nothing. Thus the central sacrifice of Christianity is like a magic trick, with Christ taking on the role of the traditional trickster figure to reveal that “the sacred is not to be found in some particular place.” By smashing our scapegoats, we expose the decay of false forms of religion and affirm how God has turned trash into something holy.

There are some valid ideas here, if nothing particularly new for me. However, I think Rollins takes the magic trick metaphor too far, in a way that many will find downright offensive. He also relies, more than ever, on a mixed bag of anecdotes, jokes, and bizarre pop culture references. There’s not enough in the way of original thought to fill even 120 pages. I’ll hope for better things from Rollins next time.

[Travis · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a relatively short book that, despite its brevity, has such depth and examines such important concepts that it is difficult to summarize. Broadly speaking, The Divine Magician is a hybrid of existentialist philosophy and death-of-God theology that presents a radical Christianity that can be embraced by both theists and non-theists--though the theists will likely have a more difficult time coming to terms with Christianity as conceived by the author, Peter Rollins. Non-theists will also find it problematic as Rollins pushes them to see religion, Christianity in particular, in a way that is not susceptible to the arguments of analytic philosophy because Christianity, for Rollins, is not just a set of doctrines to be tested as true or false--doctrine being entirely irrelevant to Rollins.

Christianity, for Rollins, is not a religion or an ideology. Christianity is an event--an ongoing event. This event is, in the extended metaphor he uses to explicate his thesis, a divine magic trick. Christianity presents, in the crucifixion, the death of God--the part of the trick referred to as the turn. In the turn, God disappears when Christ is killed. God is dead. The final act of the magic trick is called the prestige: the resurrection is the prestige. But it is not resurrection as the resuscitation of a corpse; instead, the resurrection event is the recognition that the God who was killed in the turn was not really God at all. The God as conceived as a sacred object that gives us meaning or hope in life does not exist.

The miracle of the resurrection is that we can live with the death of God, live in spite of the death of God, because the God that religion had presented to us previously was an idol: there is no ultimately sacred object or sacred realm. Everything is sacred. Traditional religion posits God as a sacred Other which will grant us what we think we most desire (immortality, meaning, hope, cosmic justice, etc.), but this God is an idol that will leave us unfulfilled. The prestige, the resurrection, reveals to us that, yes, we are living lives that will never ultimately be fulfilled, lives that have no ultimate meaning, and yet we can go on living by enacting the message of the love of Christ and bearing the burden of the absurdity of our existence together.

Christianity is not about belief or unbelief, dogmas or doctrines. It is not about church structures, religious authority, sacred texts, and polity. It is not an ideology or an institution. It is a Hegelian dialectic of synthesizing our longing for meaning with the recognition that there is no ultimate meaning, but it is a synthesis that is never complete and is always ongoing. As we work out our existential position together in mutual love and fraternity, we become the living Christian community. We become the disciples on the road to Emmaus: Christ appears among us in the spirit of our shared work. And in the Eucharist, the sacred is fully recognized in us as we come to the "realization that we are the body that we consumed" (page 6).

Rollins's Christianity will probably be unpalatable both to conservative Christians and to the New Atheists. Yet it is even more radical than that: even liberal and progressive Christians will find themselves uncomfortable with Rollins's conclusions: his Christianity is not just an ethical system that strives to bring about social justice. His Christianity is a dark Christianity that embraces the absurdity of life yet calls us to all embrace this very absurdity as a part of the sacred nature of the whole of existence.

[Eric · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ive heard Rollins talk about this content for years now so it was fun to read the book with a lot of context. I was still challenging and thought provoking and I realized that I still am in the process of internalizing what this book is searching toward. And I enjoyed his interaction with the biblical texts, though I have enough Biblical Studies under my belt to know how difficult it might be to integrate Radical Theology with a thorough reading of Paul. There has of course been a renewed interest in Paul and Radical Theology and Continental Philosophy in the last few years but I wonder what a thorough going interpretation of the Pauline Corpus and its' theology would look like. I feel like the worlds would be incommensurable. But maybe not. Perhaps.

[Abalyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this book Peter Rollins deconstructs traditional Christianity and remakes it into something much more...Buddhist, for lack of a better work. It's an interesting premise, and I appreciate the idea, as well as the effort. That said, even after finishing the book, I'm not sure I entirely understand it. It would be easy to blame the author for this, especially given his penchant for dense prose, but I think there's a legitimate argument that his ideas themselves resist full description and he's doing the best he can.

The book is small, but a slow read, as page after page require re-reading or thoughtful consideration. In the end, I'm not sure Rollins has convinced me—or completely convinced me, at any rate—but I'm also positive that his ideas will be bouncing around in my brain, coloring my experience and offering random insights, for years to come.

[Raoul G · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a rather easy but enjoyable read. Rollins again draws from what seem to generally be his main influences (Hegel, Lacan, Žižek and Caputo), in order to present his perspective on the disrupting and life-giving 'event' harbored in Christianity. This event he likens to a magic trick which gives this title its general theme.

Throughout the book Rollins touches upon different interesting topics. He offers a good critique of the belief-oriented understanding of faith and explains how the way in which we hold our believes is much more interesting and important. He talks about how the theological notion of an everlasting life can never be reduced to the mere continuation, but requires a different quality of life. When he speaks about desire and scapegoating he is clearly strongly influenced by René Girard's mimetic theory, although he does not mentions him here. And when he talks about ideology, the social laws holding a group together and even more than that, the acceptable ways of transgressing this law, I seem to hear some of Žižek's ideas. Towards the end of the book there is an insightful discussion of Derrida's undeconstructable and the way that faith can be seen as undeconstructable.

The major topic of the book is lack and the sacred-object (Lacan's 'objet petit a' ), which we believe can fill the lack, but which doesn't exist other than in our imagination. Rollins also talks about how the sacred-object is created in fact by prohibition and offers insightful readings of Bible passages to make his point: the fruit in Eden taking on excessive value because of the prohibition and the inaccessibility of the holy of holies in the temple creating the illusion of the sacred being present there.
Regarding the origin of the lack he draws from Freud, assessing that "our entry into the world involves a traumatic experience of lack" and that "this original gap occurs the moment we experience ourselves as individuals, for at that moment we feel separation from our caregivers".

The following quote illustrates how he ties this topic together with the theme of the magic trick:
"Just as the dramatic pulling back of a curtain by the magician reveals an empty space, so in Christianity the temple curtain was ripped in half to reveal an empty room. In the same way that the audience watching the magic trick falsely believed that the Pledge was behind the magician’s curtain, so we believe that the answer to all our problems lies behind the prohibition. The one who experiences the event operating within Christianity is then the one who confronts the falsity of this idea. Not, however, as some kind of intellectual insight but rather through a type of earth-shattering, existential revelation. For this is not about understanding something, but about undergoing a transformation in how we live."

The prestige of this magic trick is then explained in the third section of the book:
"In the Prestige, we receive back the sacred, but no longer as an object that seems to dwell just beyond our reach. It returns as a type of ghostly presence that haunts our reality, as an experience of indefinable depth and density in some part of our world... This is not about some belief in the inherent meaning of things; rather it is living as though everything has meaning—a life that cannot help but relate to the world as rich, regardless of what we think. The sacred thus is not some positive thing, but the experience of depth and density operating in things."

Experiencing the sacredness and the depth of our world is what then leads us to have hope for the world. He even uses the expression 'hope against hope' which is a nod to John D. Caputo, from which he heavily borrows in this section:
"It is a hope that tells us we can make the world a better place, that we can transform society and enact justice, but only if we put our effort into it... To hope is to heed a call—a call to act."

As I hope can be seen from this review Rollins manages once again to tie together the ideas of many brilliant thinkers into a compelling book about the radical nature of the insight Christianity might offer us and the way that this 'event' might change our way of 'being in the world'.

[Eric Gambill · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very enjoyable read if you don't mind being pushed.

I'm amused by all the reviews that say the theology presented by Rollins is "wrong", "incorrect", etc. Every theology in existence is wrong. They're all human (flawed) attempts at describing the indescribable. What these reviewers really mean is that Rollins' ideas make them uncomfortable, and this is good. If you are not being pushed, then you aren't growing.

In this book, Rollins is essentially discussing the empty pursuit of completion that all humans can relate to. We try to fill the missing holes with countless objects: cars, houses, flashy jobs, the right spouse, and yes...even religion. As long as we are trapped in this pursuit we will all be confined to our own inescapable prisons and are destined for disappointment. He offers (as does Christianity) a freedom from this pursuit, which is the only way to live life to the fullest.

If falls one start short for me due to some places where I feel Rollins stretches for dramatic impact. He can wander off course and get a little lost in the weeds from time to time.

However, those diversions often present some of my favorite moments. The following quote critiquing the modern church is, on its own, worth the price of admission:

"Since being wedded to the state with Constantine, the church has been justifiably viewed as serving the interests of those in power by placating those without power. The general view of the enlightened secularist is that the church is neck deep in the ideology of the world it finds itself in - either through direct justification or by telling people not to worry about the current state of the world because things will be better in the next one".

What a powerful warning for the lukewarm churches sitting idly by in these times.

[Zech Soakai · Rating 3 out of 5]

I DID IT! This gave me a lot to think about. Was quite profound actually. I do think he stretched a lot of his analogies too far, but I feel enlightened after reading this and will probably read it again in another two or three years or so :) First Theology/philosophy book I've read and I'm glad I decided to take notes in my journal... coz this book is a bit of an intellectual exercise -- but it's worth it.

[Zachary · Rating 4 out of 5]

Peter Rollins is part of a radical movement that started with Friedrich Nietzsche and extends to the philosophical work of Slavoj Žižek and John Caputo. Unlike these other modern thinkers, however, Rollins seems to command a bit more of an audience (Žižek, I admit, is quite famous), probably from his association with the famous former Mars Hill Bible Church pastor Rob Bell, whose books are frequent bestsellers. Rollins is a subversive thinker well-versed in existentialism, poststructuralism, psychoanalysis, and political theory; his expertise in these areas, coupled with his provocative hermeneutical approach toward biblical texts, drive Rollins toward some truly radical conclusions about Christianity, faith, and what a church collective can look like as per his materialist worldview. This text is deceptively simple; Rollins’s prose is lucid and easy to read, his stories are persuasive and well-told, and his numerous pop culture references all serve to lull the reader into concurrence with some revolutionary ideas, some of which, had they been presented differently, those same readers, I reckon, would find abhorrent.

For example, Rollins is clearly influenced by the Death of God, an idea made most famous by Nietzsche, which in turn inspired Paul Tillich and a whole host of twentieth century postmodern thinkers. While the Death of God movement is complex and difficult to condense to a mere phrase or idea, it essentially posits that it has become impossible to believe in the Christian God of metaphysics, a transcendent deity, in our modern secular era, and that all which has been associated with the literal existence of that God, such as Christian morality, will or already has collapsed. When God is dead, what is not permitted?

Nevertheless, when Nietzsche’s madman proclaims that “God is dead,” this is hardly the Good News for atheists; it demands that we all work to deconstruct incoherent assumptions and systems premised on the existence of a metaphysical and beneficent deity and rebuild them anew. The Death of God shakes us all out of our sense of safety and security—moral, political, spiritual, and otherwise. In any event, Rollins is committed to the idea that the God of metaphysics is dead. Rather than put forth new content with which to replace the God of metaphysics, rather than take issue with any particular tradition’s conception of God, Rollins paradoxically claims that Christianity clues us into this event, that is, the disappearance of God. We think that the sacred-object—the God of metaphysics, for instance—will satiate all our desires and satisfy our profound sense of lack, yet the Crucifixion reveals how perverse our obsessions are; it is “the demise of that which promises us life,” which nevertheless can only lead to existential death. The Resurrection, likewise, directs us toward salvation, which, rather than help us acquire what we think will make us whole, redirects us toward care and concern for the world, “the idea of God in the midst of life.” Christianity therefore presents us with a different way to be in the world, “a way that is free from the [endless] pursuit of wholeness and satisfaction.” Christian faith, then, is in fact an embrace of the world and its worldliness—in all its flawed facticity—and, quite importantly, it describes “lived protest” of “forms of life that treat existence as worthless.”

Rollins presents this material in the form of a metaphor, that of the illusion, yet one need not fret over whether his metaphor works exceptionally well in order to understand his main point. I do find the tripartite structure Rollins outlines helpful: first, the illusionist presents the object of desire, that which will disappear; next, she performs the trick itself, when the object is made to disappear behind a curtain or some similar facade; finally, she reveals the appearance of what seems to be the same object in an unexpected location; of course, the reappeared object is in fact a different object quite separate from the object first presented. In Christian terms, as alluded to above, the sacred-object is the God of metaphysics and the promise of wholeness and fulfillment; the Crucifixion constitutes the disappearance, or “Turn,” when the “rabble” present at the Crucifixion discover the sacred-object as a fiction, a ruse (the Holy of Holies is empty, Christ is crucified yet his death reveals the absence of what we hoped to find); and in the Resurrection, we receive the sacred as that which emanates from the profane—i.e. the world that we are called to transform. Rollins’s ultimate conclusion is that Christianity is fundamentally deconstructionist; it calls on us to tear down oppressive institutions and structures, to foster liberation, and to participate in the awesome task of restoration that Nietzsche called attention to way back at the end of the nineteenth century. Rollins advocates for a community that the apostle Paul first envisioned, where there is no Jew or Gentile, no male or female, no slave or free, “a collective where [different] identities are drained of their operative power and where everyone has equal access to the universal. . . . To identify with someone on a cross was to identify with someone robbed of identity.”

Rollins is keen to critique both conservative-fundamentalist and liberal-reformist iterations of contemporary Christianity. Whereas debate between these factions involves disputes over the content of Christian faith, Rollins is concerned with the how of faith, not the what of faith. For Rollins, faith does not constitute the affirmation of a set of creeds or doctrines, it describes a certain (re)orientation toward the world. However different fundamentalist and liberal Christian communities are, faith operates similarly in both churches; whereas “fundamentalist communities offer a security blanket” via belief that “is a fantasy supported by a repressed unbelief,” the prayers, sermons, hymns, and rituals of liberal communities “serve to prop up the very system that is intellectually questioned” by skeptical, humanistic Christian liberals. In both systems, the sacred-object remains an object of desire; the metaphysical God “protects us from difficulties and doubt” and will one day take care of all our problems. I think Rollins’s critique of the liberal church is less well-developed than his critique of fundamentalism. While I understand that Rollins is probably (and appropriately) concerned that liberals will discount his accusation that their faith is idolatrous and reinforces the systems and structures they claim Christianity helps us deconstruct, I fail to see how the purported ends that many liberal Christians strive for are so different from Rollins’s own. I think many liberal Christians are enthusiastic to endorse a Christianity that demands care and concern for the world and a radical transformation of systems of oppression and exclusion. I wonder if Rollins worries that however ostensibly prepared such Christians are to strive for liberation, they may either resist the radical collective’s attempt to tear down certain institutions (for instance, liberal Catholics may protest the deconstruction of the patriarchal Catholic Church), or that they will be complacent when liberation is at hand, since their anti-oppression discourse was only ever lip-service. Whatever the case may be, I would like to hear more from Rollins about why the liberal church cannot accommodate some of his ideas in an authentic way.

Toward the end of the book, Rollins asserts that in order to understand our faith at a structural level, and thus in order to move beyond mere sets of beliefs which we swap in and out, each of which ultimately functions as a “security blanket, a tribal identity” with which we cope with “cosmic insecurity,” we must participate in “practices that disrupt, disturb, surprise, and confront us”—more precisely, practices that constitute what Rollins calls a dialectical movement in those who participate in the rituals of the “radical church.” He discusses the importance of decay, which the radical church actively promotes, since decay presents before us the death of that which we presumed to have wanted and additionally frees up “the raw materials necessary for new life.” The subversive church leader whom Rollins envisions as essential to this process of decay, one who strives to be true to the event of Christianity, is therefore unconcerned with creeds and doctrines that delineate one tribal community from the next. Instead, this leader “introduces people to a different way of life” that throws her listeners into a deep concern and care for the world. I think it is clear that Rollins, albeit an intellectual and a theorist, is one such leader, and that this text is part of the dialectical movement itself. It serves to disrupt its readers, to wake them up from their soporific yet obsessive pursuit of the sacred-object and to identify, accept, and experience the Death of the God of metaphysics. While Rollins’s view of what the radical church looks like and what it seeks to accomplish are somewhat muddled, he offers Christians, theists, and non-theists alike a persuasive account of the first step one must take to acquire true faith. It is a step that many of us, myself included, are terrified to take.

[Robert D. Cornwall · Rating 2 out of 5]

The times are changing. We have moved into a post-Christendom/postmodern age in which the possibility of certainity in matters of religion have been abandoned. We live with a much greater amount of gray area than before. Yes, there are those who want to hold on to long-since discredited ideas, but there's is an illusion and not reality.

Is Christianity as we know it based on an illusion? Peter Rollins believes this to be true. In fact, in his latest book he uses the analogy of the magician (a divine magician) to unveil the idol -- the sacred object hiding behind the curtain, the sacred object that is created through religious prohibition, but which when the curtain is drawn we discover that there is nothing there. While he uses the image of the magician's trick of making an object disappear, the religious version of this is the Temple Holy of Holies. There is supposed to be something behind the curtain, but when you pull it back you realize that not only isn't God not there, nothing is there.

Rollins' work is rooted in deconstructionist postmodernist philosophy. His purpose, it would seem, is to deconstruct traditional forms of Christianity both conservative and liberal, which he believes seek to help us hold on to beliefs, that no longer make sense either through narrow creedalism or through liturgical practices. He proposes instead a radical form of Christianity that appears to go beyond atheism. We need to let go of the illusion that there's something there and gather as a community to share not answers, but to try to live well.

His vision of Christianity is a radical one, that might look a bit like the Occupy Movement, a movement without leadership and without ultimate goals. There is no need for clergy, just agents of decay as he calls them. Could this be Christianity after religion? Perhaps.

So, why did I give the book just two stars? While I realize that Rollins speaks to many persons, most of whom are younger than me, I find him to be unsatisfying. Could it be that I fail to understand his message? That's quite possible. I do find reading him to be laborious. In the end, it seems to me that I am not a radical. It is like with the Occupy Movement, which he lifted up. While I agreed with many of the critiques offered by the movement, I didn't see it as a viable movement of reform. That is me. Others might find this enlightening. And perhaps that's okay!

[Ian · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think that progressive and liberal Christians will enjoy this book, however in my view the only way it is profound is in being profoundly wrong, however entertaining it may be at times. To treat the Gospel as some kind of intellectual game is to miss the whole point.

Mystification and false consciousness (Marxism), bad faith (existentialism), reading against the grain or resistant reading, psychoanalytic and postmodern approaches along with a dash of pop culture...it’s ironic that a book so opposed to worldviews and ideologies is riddled with the very things it opposes while at the same time seamlessly using the strategies of those ideologies without acknowledging what it is doing.

What it doesn’t owe much to is the plain meaning of the Bible.

To give two examples, the author’s reading of Paul as a crypto-atheist is simply ridiculous and without any foundation, as is his reading of the Prodigal Son as a (Marxist) fable about a plutocrat with a failed revolutionary son who he welcomes back to maintain the status quo. I was surprised that in all his talk about curtains, he didn't reference “The Wizard of Oz” but that would make all too evident what he is really saying in this book.

Once you cut through the conceit of a magic trick around which the book is organised and catch phrases such as the 'radical Christian collective' and 'the Christ event', what he is saying boils down to "forget about God and just love the world". To quote the book "the question is no longer about the existence or inexistence of some being but rather about whether or not one is responding to a call that throws him into a deep concern for the world. This approach is not concerned with whether we label ourselves theist, atheist or agnostic." What is interesting is that nowhere does this 'deep concern for the world' seem to include loving ones neighbour or actually helping the poor and marginalised in any material way.

The irony is that this anaemic intellectualising of Christianity is ultimately unsatisfactory. The Christians I know who are happiest with their lives are those who have no doubts about the Gospel or its meaning in their lives and thus have a stable foundation for living lives of love and service. If you were to take this book seriously it would have the opposite effect.

[Zach Christensen · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great book. It is as if someone took Kierkegaard, Tillich, Camus, Derrida, Nietzsche, Heidegger, alongside other existentialist figures and put them all together to be synthesized with Christianity. I should say that Rollins contends that Christianity is existential at its heart rather than needing the philosophy to be added.

The main theme of this book is that the Christian experience is letting go of the so-called "sacred object" that we believe will make us whole and complete. The message of Jesus is frequently spun in a way that, if you "believe in Jesus," all your turmoil will disappear and you will enter a state of perfect satisfaction and harmony. Rollins turns this on its head and says that following Jesus actually leads you to accept the reality of discontentment and incompleteness. Rather than Jesus filling the cavernous "God-sized gap," we embrace this gap as part of being human. In so doing, we are set free from its bondage. When we accept that all of the "sacred objects" are simply illusions, that is when we step into the fullness of life.

Rollins is also a masterful story-teller. This book is full of parables and illustrations to give clearer vision of the points made. I recommend this book - it was lucid, fun, and enriching.

[Joel Wentz · Rating 5 out of 5]

A searing critique of religion, ideology and belief-systems that is hard to put down, equally energizing, convicting, disturbing and relentlessly hopeful (in the best sense of the word, which Rollins himself is careful to define here.)

Overall, this book struck me as a sort of "Christian Midrash," interestingly tying together thematic elements from the story of Adam and Eve and the crucifixion. Rollins weaves together insights from psychology, existential philosophy, and even numerous pop-culture references and humorous parables, which combine to provide a blistering, radical take on one of the most "popularly-understood" elements of Christianity: the cross.

I loved 'Divine Magician', though I also understand completely why people struggle with Rollins. He's a brilliant, funny and prophetic voice that we desperately need, and I suspect his true value will be seen in years to come (a la Kierkegaard, one of his own heroes).

[Steven Fouse · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Divine Magician by Peter Rollins is a slow-to-get going explanation of Christianity specifically focusing on the Cross and Paul's discussion of sin and the law. This book moves from okay to excellent the further in you go.

The Good: Peter's explanation of the relationship between belief and unbelief (150-155) is excellent. This section alone is worth the price of the book.

The Bad: This book starts slow. I did not like it until about half-way through - then it became excellent.

The Ugly: Are you a religious fundamentalist/conservative? Peter will point out the flaws in your belief/unbelef system. Are you are religious progressive/liberal? Peter will point out the flaws in your practices and liturgy. This is not a bad thing, but it could be a bit ugly.

I became much happier with this book the more I read. If you start it but aren't thrilled, give it time - it's worth it.

[Allison Gregory-Graff · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been talking to everyone about this book as I was reading it, and in some cases I received awestruck responses from others about Rollin's unique theology and perspective, and in other cases I struggled to describe the impact of what I was reading to others, and may or may not have confused my listeners. This book is layered, and Rollins helped me to dig deeper into my thoughts. He pulled me into his world of viewing our faith. I'd like to discuss with others that have read the book for themselves!

[Brian · Rating 2 out of 5]

Theological gymnastics. Author seems less interested in a search for truth than getting his clever interpretation of the Genesis story out - even in my limited reading these interpretations have already become tired. What he says is essentially true, but more worthy of a few sentences than a book. Also, have fun trudging through the boring stories and pop references. Should be noted, I like Peter Rollins' talks.

[James · Rating 3 out of 5]

Many interesting ideas, not sure the value of them yet, this review only some immediate overall thoughts. I apologize for writing at such length, but perhaps you are someone who enjoys reading long things.

Rollins likes the words "subversive" and "radical". I've observed that questioning (subversive, radical) people tend to have a few things they never really question. For instance, a philosophy club may most lamentably never come to any consensus on any of the topics they debate, but they celebrate and affirm the role of (at least what they understand to be) critical thinking, by, for instance, calling out fallacies of arguing. That's what they're really arguing for, in the midst of such window dressing as "free will" or "ethics".

It seems Rollins argues most consistently (persuasively?) for "Love and care for the world" and for "the therapeutic approach" (derived from psychotherapy / psychoanalysis, I think). And, of course, for the motions of subversion and radicalness.

I don't think Rollins provides much of any case for the value of these three things. I think that I would be persuaded by him on these three important points (what I take to be so sacred to him that he won't question them) based on how he makes me feel. Those interesting ideas, that feeling that he cares for what I care for (for in some sense I already care for the world, at least the idea of "love and care" pleases me), this all makes me want to slide alongside him on the radical, therapeutic, free-floating love and care approach, while training my gaze on what I do or do not agree about in those ideas. The delight I have in arguing and agreeing with his emphasized face enables me to out of the corner of my eye take in his never-concealed but never examined assumptions. It's a sort of magic trick, an illusionist act of misdirection.

How can a person get another person to really love love? My guess is, by having them go through the motions until they acquire a taste for it. One might want there to be an argument for it, so that simultaneously one would love love because it was authoritative and that authority was what had the power to change your mind. But I don't know that there is such an argument, which isn't after all grounded in something other than love. (Should I love love because it's in my best interest? But then I wouldn't really be loving love when I loved love.) Similarly, by going through the motions of radicalness and therapy, by reading through Rollins' arguments and assertions, we may eventually develop a taste for these. And eventually we may then come to love them for their own sake.

But this is a dangerous move. Radicalness for its own sake pushes us away from love for its own sake, toward nihilism and interestingly enough rampant technological development, the two things that most threaten our existence physically and as a culture. The therapeutic approach is dangerous for being almost right (unless someone cares to examine it to the point of demonstrating its rightness?), for saying "the thing to care about is the individual, subjective human and their" (Aristotelian?) "well-being. Not, say, faithfulness to God." Therapy does not say that God does not exist, it says, similarly to Rollins, that it doesn't matter if God exists or not. But therapy doesn't even go so far as to say that out loud, it says it through the mechanism of a kind of "deceptive truth": it says a lot of true things, making you think that it's said enough or all of the relevant ones. If you've known God yourself, you'll be impatient with thought-systems that would leave you in the impoverished world of therapy: including all of that self-acceptance and human flourishing. Therapy is what may be necessary to get us through a temporary difficulty, but when consumed regularly (and I think this fits Rollins) it prevents us from real life. Isn't life more valuable than health?

Rollins very much wants to emphasize that what he (Christianity?) is preaching is for atheists, theists and agnostics alike. As though this love and care for the world thing is something that anyone can believe in. Now, I can think of two obvious reasons why we should believe in love and care (although I imagine there are others). The theistic, which is that God establishes the authority of love for the world in us directly, as a kind of "basic knowledge"; or the Nietzschean, (from Book 1 of The Gay Science) which is that such it favors the preservation of the species. "Should" means something different in each context. In the theistic sense, "should" means "this belief has a right to claim our allegiance"; in the Nietzschean sense, "should" means "this belief is something that we can expect humans to have, for very good reason: (Otherwise we wouldn't be around)". In the theistic case, this right is something that is entirely inexplicable to those who have not experienced God, who in some sense is-or-contains that love of the world. As is noted, it's hard (impossible even?) to get from "is" to "ought". God has to actually exist and we have to actually experience him in a way that violates and transcends the usual order of reason and human experience (although it may not be so dramatic in presentation as that sounds) in order for us to ground that "should" in the most honorable form: a belief that deserves to rule us. Otherwise we are dishonorably bound to this thing which I'll agree with the atheistic egoists is a false god, humanism. Notably, radicalism, therapy and a free-floating care for the world don't love you back, because they are stupid, mindless, empty tendencies and ideas. You can consider them useful for some purpose to some good effect, but to make them into gods is to do dishonor to your own being as someone who should only worship a worthy God.

This is a key difference between therapy and what I think is more Biblical, which is that human well-being involves not only freedom from suffering and a kind of "bourgeois" inner peace, but also self-respect and having a value for something that is worth (almost) infinite suffering and lack of inner peace. I think humans need both to become better people and to become healthier people, and have to go between both poles in ways that defy logic ("When should I switch between trying to be healthier to trying to be more transcendent?" There is no answer.) Rollins may be getting that "transcend your healthy self" motion enacted by his attachment to radicalism. This, if so, enables him to bring a kind of balance which I suppose will ultimately prepare him to meet God. The radicalism will teach him something about having a love that goes beyond reason, because I sense that his love for subversion and radicalism is something unhealthy, that is, much larger in proportion in his writing and thinking than fits the reality of the world he wants to love. Perhaps his love for the world will teach him to go beyond reason as well, but while he's influenced by postmodernism, and thus questions reason from one front, I'm not sure that he really strikes at reason where it counts most, by becoming alienated from materialism. (But perhaps he indicates that in some other book.) But his love for the world could easily fall within the horizon of materialist therapy, which threatens to fix us and takes away our passion simultaneously. I would hope that his love for the world teaches him to really love the world and then to love love and thus to love God, and maybe it has.

In any case, is radicalism a good way to escape oneself (and in a sense, this self-escape is a necessity rather than "the enemy")? I think it leads to nihilism and technological suicide. Better than that would be to accept the call of the New Testament (found in Paul and the Gospels but also James, 1 John, 1 Peter, and Revelation), to overcome (as impossible as this is) all of your own sinful habits (by dependence on God who violates impossibility, as well as by pouring out all your effort in trying to love as he does), and in this, to be held to a standard that leads to you really becoming a better person, apart from empty worldly concepts of "best", rather, to actually love, from your heart, both yourself, God, your "neighbors" and the world. This provides a better prize than either radicalism or therapy and fulfills-and-contains free-floating "love and care for the world".

Ultimately, I think what is better in the end and more spiritually rigorous (provides both a more peaceful outcome and is more challenging, brutal, maturity-making in the achievement of it) is to have the right sacred-object, a really worthy one, (rightfully critiquing unworthy ones, which would include perhaps all those offered in Rollins' book) and pursue it wholeheartedly though it is "impossible". There really was a time of peace and beauty in the past, it's authentic and original. So it really was a tragedy when that was lost, long before any of our lives began. And we long for it to come in the future, and have no power to fully bring it about, but we strive to bring it about anyway, and almost die for needing it. And eventually, when we have been pushed through our paces and we've really given up our sins, we'll be ready to experience it forever. This is harder, I think, than coming to believe that there's no such thing as a sacred object, there's no god (or is there?) and that we're merely agents of humanism, a different kind of humanism.

I think this answers many, if not all, of the psychological longings that I see behind Rollins work, and answers many, if not all, of his critiques of more literal Christianity as it happens nowadays. (I'm indebted in all this to Phillip Brown's book, New Wine for the End Times)

[Giovanni Generoso · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pete Rollins is a maverick theologian influenced by Hegel, Jacques Lacan, Slavoj Žižek and Jack Caputo who wants to rethink the meaning of faith for “a world come of age,” as Bonhoeffer once said. There is much to wrestle with in these pages, and I hope, many conversations to be had about the ideas and ways-of-being that it presents.

“What if we witness this three-part sacramental act [the Eucharist seen through the lens of a magic trick: pledge, turn, and prestige] as a fundamentally irreligious movement that has nothing to do with theism or atheism, or with doctrines, dogmas, or denominations? But rather as an event that we participate in, an event that takes what we hold as most sacred, makes it disappear before our very eyes, and then returns it to us in an utterly different way.”

“Not, however, as some kind of intellectual insight but rather through a type of earth-shattering, existential revelation.”

“Incompleteness [lack]… is felt to be constitutive of life itself.”

“Faith, then, is not a set of beliefs about the world. It is rather found in the loving embrace of the world.”

“The person of faith is not known by which philosophical outlook she affirms, but rather by her commitment to life. She can take any stand or no stand concerning the meaning or absurdity of the universe, for faith does not operate at that level. The lived certainty of faith has nothing to do with belief or nonbeliever in gods, natural law, or karmic returns. It has no regard for metaphysical systems or carefully constructed worldviews. It instead describes a lived protest against forms of life that treat existence as worthless.”

“The true miracle of faith is not something natural, but something that takes place in the natural.”

“He changes his name to Paul, and he dedicates himself to the formation of a new type of community—one that questions the final legitimacy of a religious identity or confessional tradition. He dedicated himself to a community of neither/nor—neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female. By breaking down these tribal identities, he drinks scapegoating of its power.”

“Paul’s conversion offers us a glimpse of what it might mean to form communities of practice where the scapegoat is smashed and where we exorcise the demonic power of exclusionary systems—communities where we learn what it might look like to embrace equality, solidarity, and universal emancipation. This new community envisaged by Paul is not some alternative to what already exists, but rather a vision that can be adopted by already existing communities. If it were as simple as the idea of creating some new group, this would itself become its own new tradition that would need to be challenged. This idea of the neither/nor should be approached as a way of revolutionizing already existing communities.”

“What we are faced with in the conversion of Saul is the possibility of a community dedicated to the undermining of systems that would seek to enshrine inequality. When Paul writes of a community where there is no Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free, he is describing a collective where these identities are drained of their operative power and where everyone has equal access to the universal. This is not a new system, but rather a way of living out the system that one already inhabits. Paul introduces a truly shattering alternative to the system of his day, in which everything was ordered in strict hierarchies. He directly connects this new approach with Christ crucified. For Crucifixion describes one who was stripped of all identity. To be crucified meant to be robbed of one’s political and religious status. The person being executed was no longer a citizen and was considered cursed by God. Thus to identity with someone on a cross was to identify with someone robbed of identity.”

“What we learn here is that the boundaries between pure and impure are placed into question and the outside becomes the inside—something that we even see played out in the doctrine that seems most resistant to such ideas: predestination. For the Scriptures name only one man predestined for the bowels of hell, and that is Jesus. Here the outside is seen as the very place Christ enters. Thus the radical collective is found in those who identity as the outsiders, as those who are nothing and nobodies: this is the meaning of Christ’s descent into hell.”

“What we see in this reading of Paul’s conversion is a move from a religious worldview to a faith that embraces the world regardless of worldview. We see the formation of groups that constantly question, critique, and undermine their own belief systems, in light of a call to enact greater liberation and democracy.”

“In fundamentalist communities, the explicit beliefs of the community can continue to exist precisely because they are supported by a disavowed unbelief. For instance, a congregation might affirm the idea that if you show no doubt, God will always bring healing, or that we will be much better off in the next life than this one, or that our loved ones who do not express a belief in Jesus are going to an unending punishment. Yet in such communities, most still call the ambulance if their loved one is having a seizure, they don’t shoot their children to hasten their journey to heaven, and they don’t act as one would who knew that most of his friends were on the verge of entering a hell of unending torture. Their belief is a fantasy that is supported by a repressed unbelief.”

“Many of the people who move beyond Fundamentalist communities are not the ones who avoid taking it seriously, but precisely those who take it more seriously than the majority. It is these individuals who are confronted with the true horror of what they affirm. In contrast, the ones who continue in a mode of disavowed disbelief are the ones who find it easier to stay in Fundamentalist communities because they’re able to pay lip service to the dogmas of the church without really experiencing their impotence. The problem with unbelief here is precisely that it enables people to keep believing.”

“The church reveals that it has no mystical power to grant us what will make us whole and that what we have, instead, is each other.”

“Radical [theology] draws out how the subversive and scandalous heart of Christianity invites us to experience this death [“of God,” or, the theological death of the sacred-object] in the very core of our being. An experience that is open to those who are theists, atheists, and agnostics. Radical theology is thus not following in the footsteps of religious apologists, who wish to step back from New Atheism, but rather seeks to take a step further.”

“One of the ways that the event sheltered in the name of Christianity has been obscured is in the obsession with belief. Whether it’s an interfaith dialogue or a debate between a theist or an atheist, the intellectual affirmations of each party are placed at the forefront of the discussion as having central importance. The problem here, however, is that it would be perfectly possible to change the entire content of our beliefs without altering the way our beliefs function. Take the example of someone who identifies as an evangelical Christian and for whom that belief acts as a type of emotional crutch. Let us imagine this person growing up in an overtly religious environment in which evangelical belief functioned primarily as a means of defining oneself over and against others. If this belief is later rejected in favor of some other religious or political system, it might look like a fundamental change has taken place. However, at a structural level, these different beliefs will operate in broadly the same way as the old ones. Regardless of which view might provide a more accurate description of reality, we discover that the new set of beliefs also function as a security blanket, a tribal identity, and as a means of coping with the sense of cosmic insecurity.”

“The focus on ‘correcting’ a religious belief that we think is incorrect thus obscures the more important and difficult task of discovering why a particular belief is held in the first place and how it functions in our lives. When we situate the question of faith at the level of the how rather than the what, the question regarding what it means to believe in God is transformed. In properly theological terms, the question is no longer about the existence or inexistent of some being, but rather about whether or not one is responding to a call that throws how into a deep concern and care for the world. This approach is not concerned with whether we label ourselves theist, atheist, or agnostic. Indeed, such a perspective allows us to open ourselves up to the possibility that the boundaries that supposedly separate these different positions are in fact fluid. Despite the territorial divisions that separate theists from atheists, many of us are very aware that we dwell on the border—occasionally passing from one side to the other or finding ourselves in a liminal space hat doesn’t quite belong to any side. Whether it’s a church leader who finds herself embarrassed by what she preaches, a humanist who sings humans with the conviction of a saint, a theist who finds the idea of God absurd, or an atheist who secretly prays—the walls that separate can often be more permeable than we might like to admit. If we move away from the importance of what we believe to questions concerning how our belief functions, then it’s easier for us to acknowledge that there might be some of the theist, atheist, and the agnostic in each of us, even though one might take precedence over the others.”

[Jesse · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've become quite familiar with Peter Rollins' work over the past few years, mainly through video clips and a seemingly endless string of podcast appearances (in conversation with people like Rob Bell, The Liturgists, and comedian Pete Holmes), and I finally buckled down to read some of the "source text" that he gives such dynamic life to as a speaker. I've always enjoyed the way Rollins attempts to create a dialogue between the worlds of critical/literary theory and theology (both of which I'm fascinated by) in a way that enhances both frames of reference, and for the most part, he does so in a deft and rich way here.

Many have complained that his use of the metaphor of a magic trick (Pledge - Turn - Prestige) to frame and shed light on the Christian Eucharist can seem thin or strained at times, but as someone who looks at the Bible as a text like any other that one must learn how to read properly (albeit one that I gain a great deal of pleasure and insight from reading), I appreciated the way he meets both Christianity and humanity as a whole on the most primal level: at the level of story, of narrative, of metaphors that say more than their constituent parts.

It does seem that Rollins, in many cases, is speaking to a specific audience (i.e. the established Christian Church, particularly the fundamentalist branches). At his best, he's performing the age-old role of the prophet who critiques the dominant institutions of the day that have grown gluttonous and lethargic (a tradition that was established - surprise! - in Biblical history itself), calling them to the fire of greater refinement and lived truth. As someone who is relatively new to Christian practice - but who was raised with somewhat spiritually "fundamentalist" attitudes (it's a long story) - I found myself feeling both galvanized by his calls to forfeit the "Sacred Object(s)" that we fool ourselves into believing will make us whole, as well as somewhat threatened by his seeming disregard for any kind of useful Church framework. Indeed, I do think that Rollins' ruthless interrogation of religion becomes almost giddy at times (the word "scandalous" appears often when describing the event of the Crucifixion, used with a kind of alacrity), and consequently becomes sloppy in its deconstruction without any attempt at a form of reconstruction.

Ultimately, though, I think he gets to something like that when he states:

"...the question is no longer about the existence or inexistence of some being, but rather about whether or not one is responding to a call that throws him into a deep concern and care for the world."

This seems to land his argument in a decidedly materialist form of Christianity. Although such a faith has a considerable merit (especially in these current times of social inequality and division), I wonder how Rollins would address more mystical, internal experiences that go beyond both intellectual belief and "right action." Personally I definitely relate strongly to this aspect of religion/spirituality (which often goes beyond language into "I don't know, I only experience" territory), and I wonder if it exists outside of what Rollins is trying to address.

Whatever the case, this book felt like Rollins at his most sustained and depth-diving, and did ultimately leave me with a sense of both destabilization and ideological clarity...which is maybe what he's ultimately going for. The questions will never stop, but the book helps to remind me that act of questioning is ever-more essential.

[Sam · Rating 3 out of 5]

For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles (1 Cor. 1:22–23)

The Crucifixion is at its core an absurd and senseless act that the modern church has sanitized and distorted. In truth, the structure of Christianity's central event is not dissimilar from a magic trick:

1. The Pledge - we believe there exists some object out there that can make us whole and complete (money, power, sex, God)
2. The Turn - God dies, and the curtain separating us from the Holy of Holies is torn. But rather than finding God behind the curtain, we realize that there's nothing there -- the object we thought would complete us doesn't exist. Further, a rift within God is revealed as Christ proclaims he has been forsaken by the Father.
3. The Prestige - rather than being given back our life as it was, we are shown a different way of living and being. We are freed from the pursuit of that which we believe will satisfy us; free to acknowledge our repressed doubts and fears; free to admit that life is difficult and we don't know the answers.

Rollins advocates for a liturgy of "transformance art" that enables us to confront the lack we experience within ourselves to rob it of its sting. These decentering practices act as "agents of decay" -- bacteria that eat through our dead beliefs to free nutrients and enable new life.

I still don't know exactly how I feel about Rollins' "pyrotheology", but he brings a fresh, valuable perspective to Christian thought. In particular, his work affirms the difficulties of being human more than perhaps any other author I have read (Christian or otherwise).

[Jon · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some thoughts I jotted down while reading. I enjoyed parts of it, would’ve given more stars if he was more clear on his points not based on whether I agree or disagree with him


-Uses scripture to fit his ideas rather than leaning more into scripture to hear what it says- Paul and Good Samaritan (there is no way those listening to that pranks would have walked away hearing a message about class systems and privilege like he and Frewin suggest)

-The prestige turn gimmick don’t really work well. I find it confuses things more than gets his points across

-Jesus already says everything he does about community and not focusing on religion, but in a better way so I’d point people there rather than this book

-Feels like he uses words that he’s not totally sure what they mean

-Best when he’s directly saying what he wants to instead of trying to make it work into a magic gimmick. His thoughts on community and church are great in terms of what it could be, I’d like to read more about that

-First hundred pages can be summarized in focusing on Jesus and not idols (whatever those idols may be)

-The ideas he has are not really founded in anything besides his own thoughts. So everything built off of those ideas feels flimsy

-I think it would do him well to approach his audience if someone was to be entering into this conversation blind. He makes assumptions of Christian beliefs and background that are too small for such a wide scope. He seems to be writing in his context, which coming from Belfast would make sense. It’s highly religious and a lot Irish like to use lots of words

[Ariel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read this at an opportune time in my life, which I think is crucial to feel the real impact that any book can really have. I can understand how the constant breaking down of thought that Rollins does can turn ones head one too many times, but it felt very satisfying for me right now.
Growing up as a moderately conservative evangelical, this book brings to the forefront many questions and critical thoughts I’ve had for many years with the church and does more for me in the breaking down of the system than the offering the solution. Though his solution is intriguing, I feel like it has the same potential as the other side to end up right back where you began the more you continue to break down motive and direction of each movement. It left me with more questions, but definitely no longer felt alone in the inconsistencies that I feel in the current evangelical Christian tradition.
Definitely recommend for anyone ready and willing to face the inconsistencies of the current Christian structure that feels safe right now.
And perhaps some of my dissatisfaction just comes from even seeking a solution or thinking he is offering a solution, when he really is pointing out that seeking a solution or “sacred-object” is the false reality. The practical living out of this lifestyle is what I am questioning, is it really possible, valuable, beneficial?

[Shane Budd · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ok so this isn’t a typical book review. I’m not good at those. I’ve been bad at book reviews and reports all of my life.
I gave this book 3 stars because I hated it but I liked it at the same time. This isn’t my first encounter with Peter Rollin’s writings. In fact, I’ve listened to him on several podcasts as well as read his books. I knew what I was possibly getting into.
First, if you hold traditional church beliefs near and dear, or the way things have always been done. You’ll probably find some of his material heretical, especially when he brings in other author’s views. So read at your own risk ( I couldn’t find a better word).
I like this book because it proposes a different lens to view faith and belief. Again, Rollin’s unorthodox approach can be a blockade for some. Most of the time I find it refreshing.
I hate this book because Rollin’s unorthodox approach really requires you to take out anything you’ve learned in church, personally, seminary, etc...(you get it) and kind of unlearn that to view faith and belief through this lens. It’s uncomfortable at times.
This book is a smoothy of theology, philosophy, faith, belief, doubt, wrestling, and Star Wars. So go for it if you want, if not ok.

[Robert Irish · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have now read four of Peter Rollins' books, and hung out with him in Crawfordsburn Inn for five days at one of his events. I like Pete a lot, and I absolutely love his speaking style and story-telling, even when I am ambivalent or worse about his ideas.
I think his best book is Insurrection and I also think his first book, How (Not) to Speak of God is outstanding. His more recent books seem to be Pete trying to be too clever but losing the plot about what has made his work valuable.
Some moments of this book are excellent. Some of the observations are insightful. But the overall premise is just too thin and requires too much mental gymnastics to really be worth the time.
I was sorry not to like this book, but I'm thinking about re-reading Insurrection as an antidote.

[Sarah Gagnon · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading the reviews I didn’t expect to like this as much as previous books but it quickly became one of my favorites and what I would consider the best first Rollins to recommend. The structure holds the ideas together so cleanly. I love teaching styles that circle one idea over and over going deeper and deeper. The concept is fun and I find this book easiest to hold together in my mind as a cohesive single argument. While I really enjoyed the previous books they were just more complex and took more time to get through. I enjoyed this as kind of a playful intro to existential theology.

I’d be curious to see how his analysis of biblical texts would hold up. The statements he made were philosophically coherent but without more references to support his analysis from a literary point of view I wasn’t sure I was sold on those points. Not that I mind a playful approach to story interpretation.

[Mats Winther · Rating 1 out of 5]

Peter Rollins (The Divine Magician) thinks that the tearing of the curtain in the Jerusalem temple (Matt. 27:51) means that the inner sanctum was revealed as empty, an event that is symbolic of the "loss of the sacred object." It is supposed to make people realize the falsity of transcendental religion, which allows them to live life to the full. In fact, the Jews already knew that the inner sanctum was empty, because God is spirit: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image" (Exodus 20:4). The event really means that "God moved out of that place never again to dwell in a temple made with human hands" (Acts 17:24). The fact that Rollins tries to recruit St Paul to his anti-religious project is laughable. I only managed to read half of the book, because it offended my intellect. I give it 1 star out of 5.

[Scott · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting - if uneven - book. With his writing, I can be amazed with his profound insights, and then immediately after that get lost in prose that makes no sense to me. Ultimately, the couple of really great chapters elevates the book.

If anything, his take on the institutional church makes me pause. It's not as much criticism as reflection, and his optimism comes through when talking about the larger picture of faith. I'm not sure if I'd recommend, but will be quoting some pages in my own conversations.

[Pamela · Rating 5 out of 5]

After years of feeling like all my religious foundations have been pulled out from beneath me Divine Magician is just what my heart needed: a new interpretation of “the gospel” or what Rollins describes as the three movements. Beware that the first 70 or so pages may leave you feeling like everything you were ever taught just disappeared. But carry on. It’s worth reading to the very end. I’ll be reading this book twice because I’m sure there is gold that I missed. 5 Star reviews for books I’ll read twice!

[Clint · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed this second reading of The Divine Magician. The book is an excellent dive into radical Christianity, a set of theological and philosophical ideas that argue for an unique understanding of the Christian religion. Rollins primary argument is that the Resurrection of Christ serves as the penultimate disruption: an event that painfully upends all things, including theology and religion. In a post-pandemic world, the need for religious folks to embrace this pain is more important than ever.

[Heather · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was really excited with the subtitle thinking this would be a book about developing a relationship with Jesus over following religious forms. Sadly, Rollins’ version of ‘radical Christianity’ is devoid of the living Christ and the fulfillment Jesus promises in the end. He does have a lot of good points about how we can be aiming to live in rich community and not deny the struggles and difficulties in this world, but it feels hollow without the Hope.

[Kathryn Wickward · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't buy into all of Rollins theology and his full-on rejection of Catholic understanding, but his idea of "faith beyond belief" (my words) sticks with me as a viable way to approach the fact that no Christian denomination will have a perfect handle on the truth. In fact, it would seem like choosing a faith community solely on "right doctrine" might not be the best way to go about it. It may even hinder our search for God. Great food for thought.