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Cultural Liturgies #3
Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology
A leading Christian philosopher explores the religious nature of politics and the political nature of Christian worship, sketching how the worship of the church propels us to be invested in forging the common good.
363 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 7, 2017
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January 23, 2018
3.5/5.
One of the dangers of challenging yourself to read 75 books in a year is that it can make you read too fast to appreciate a book. This is only exacerbated if your reading of the book is fragmentary and even WORSE if you are not reading it alongside someone else so you can digest and discuss the book together. I might be guilty of a "poor" reading of 'Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology,' as a result.
This is the final volume in James K.A. Smith's masterful Cultural Liturgies trilogy. It builds off of the earlier two volumes, in which Smith makes a powerful and persuasive case that EVERYONE, not just the religious, are liturgical creatures - we ALL worship something or someone, whether that is the God of the Bible, Allah, money, sex, acclaim, etc...We become liturgical creatures through practice, whether that is through the liturgy of the church or the tithing of money at the mall or participation in the electoral calendar. Smith explores the interplay between liturgical practice/formation and politics most clearly in the first chapter, "Rites Talk: The Worship of Democracy."
Smith raised numerous points that I appreciate and affirm (through reading his earlier works I had already bought into his basic premise that worship forms us as liturgical creatures). For instance, he asserts that we must be aware of our historical context; particularity is important and we must be keen and observant cultural ethnographers (Smith highlights the role of ethnography for theology) of our society's zeitgeist (p. 124-25). He explains:
"We need to beware of policy proposals that are 'principled' but fail to attend to history. Society is never a blank slate. We always find ourselves in some historically determined moment. Our 'here and now' is always the product of a 'there and then.' While good policy should be informed by enduring, even timeless wisdom, it is always policy FOR a particular people at a particular moment with a particular history" (p. 128).
Smith follows many Reformed thinkers in advocating for a "prinicipled pluralism" but notes that this is a difficult concept to attain and he offers suggestions for how to "reform" it, particularly through inculcating the right habits and virtues of good citizenship (p. 144-45). He worries that a thin form of "prinicipled pluralism" can be too acquiescent, stating, "It's as if principled pluralism becomes a theological rationale for assuring liberal democrats that we're willing to play along with their functionally naturalized, secularized political game. Give us a seat at the table. We won't be a bother. We won't be so gauche as to invoke Jesus. We understand the rules. We promise to invoke only 'political' truth" (p. 141). He further laments that:
"as both liberalism and capitalism tend to devour and erode just these institutions and communities [which form good citizens], they end up being a parasite that, starved by its own hunger, consumes the host and thus endangers its own demise. This raises serious questions about the viability of pluralism FROM THE LEFT, which has of late exhibited neither patience nor tolerance nor humility. While Christian political theologians continue to fret about the perceived threat of a Constantinian 'takeover,' in fact the most potent forces of hegemony and homogeneity have been progressives who are all too confident that they know the truth and thus are disinclined to be tolerant of those who disagree, or to wait for them to catch up with the 'right side of history.' Thus, pluralism is looking less and less like a LIBERAL ideal. What if it is, in fact, religious communities that are best able to articulate WHY we ought to be tolerant and that have the resources to cultivate tolerant citizens?" (p. 147)
(This is particularly apropos considering the recent mandate by the Trudeau government that would make ineligible for summer job grant funding those organizations which affirm a pro-life stance).
Smith also counters the common condemnation of Christendom that is often launched by the Yoder/Hauerwas branch of Christian thinking. Christendom involves the relationship between the church and the state. Smith asserts that Christendom is itself "missional" and that Christendom is not just the idealization of Roman Catholic ultramontanists or Christian Reconstructionists - even the civil rights movement itself was a "Christendom project" for Christendom is truly a "MISSIONAL endeavor that hopes and aims to expose governments and systems to the transformative power of the gospel" (p. 163). Smith quotes Peter Leithart who pithily but forcefully states "There was no arena in Constantinople;" though many are suspicious of Emperor Constantine, upon his conversion the gospel began to make inroads into the empire (p. 114).
One of the philosophical/theological questions I constantly wrestle with is the validity and viability of "natural law." I believe that Roman Catholics tend to uphold natural law, noting that a certain sense of good and evil still, despite the Fall, lingers in human beings (Romans 2 appears to indicate this). However, Smith offers a persuasive critique of natural law, arguing:
"Much that traffics under the banner of 'Christian' political theology and public engagement has little to do with the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, what we get from allegedly 'Christian' public theologies are appeals to creation order and natural law, norms restricted to general revelation and the dictates of 'reason.' But where does reason dictate penance? And where does the natural law commend forgiveness and mercy? Did creation order ever drive us to our knees in a passionate prayer of confession? Yet are not such practices and virtues germane to the image-bearing task of governing?" (p. 153).
Smith, along with most Protestants, seems to affirm that the Fall has entirely warped our moral capacity so that natural law itself is insufficient (indeed, he notes that natural law tends to be unpersuasive, such as natural law arguments against same-sex marriage, p. 155); instead, we require the radical and alien proclamation and pedagogy of special revelation that the creation order cannot come to on its own. In fact, Smith remarks:
"Worship is not a rehearsal of a 'natural law' that can be known by reason or conscience; it is the restor(y)ing of a renewed humanity who are liturgically schooled. The index and criterion for justice and the right ordering of society is not some generic, universal, or 'natural' canon but rather the revealed, biblical story unfolded in God's covenant relationship with Israel and the church" (p. 60; see also p. 67n31).
Thus, worship is about pedagogy and must be EXPLAINED so individuals are formed rightly in community (p. 205; one of the things I most appreciate about the service sheet at St. John's Vancouver Anglican Church is that on the side of the page there are explanatory notes that inform readers about why we confess and which describes the Apostle's Creed as the "national anthem" of the Christian Church). This is crucial so that individuals are not MALformed. Smith uses the example of Michael Corleone from "The Godfather" films (in so doing, Smith is addressing a common critique of the Cultural Liturgies project - that even those who seemingly participate in liturgy often lead very hypocritical and sinful lives). Corleone puts on the public display of being devout, attending weddings, funerals, baptisms, but how much of this is performed merely as an act of ethnic function? There is no evidence that Corleone truly seeks to live out Christian practices intentionally; rather, he (inconsistently) participates in these rites for show (p. 203-04).
Lastly, following Hans Boersma, Smith worries that a frenetic swing of the pendulum has occurred among Christians. Before, fundamentalists and evangelicals were too focused on heaven (as Larry Norman sings "What a mess that world is in / I wonder who began it? / Don't ask me / I'm only visiting this planet") but in recent years we have reaffirmed the goodness of Creation (I think N.T. Wright's 'Surprised By Hope: Rethinking Heaven, Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church' has been especially influential). In doing so, believers have perhaps made Christianity TOO immanent and this has had the negative affect of poisoning our political discourse because the politics of the earthly city thereby becomes ultimate; rather, we need to be oriented to the heavenly city (p. 210, 212-13).
Still, I found myself a little underwhelmed by this last volume. The book at times felt discombobulated as Smith took excursions to tighten up arguments of the overall Cultural Liturgies project. There were stretches of "Awaiting the King," particularly the second chapter, that read more like "James K.A. Smith's Commentary on Oliver O'Donovan's 'Desire of the Nations'" (O'Donovan is a brilliant thinker, but I would've liked to have seen some more original thought; another problem is that I haven't read much O'Donovan myself). This also occurred in the sixth chapter on "Contested Formations: Our 'Godfather' Problem" with the works of Willie James Jennings and Ephraim Radner though in that case I can at least appreciate that Smith is using these two scholars' as interlocutors to address criticisms of the Cultural Liturgies project. I've read several books on Christianity and politics already (especially James Davison Hunter's excellent 'To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World') so I have already thought through a lot of what Smith covered.
Another reason for being underwhelmed could be that there is not a whole lot of concrete proposals offered (I admit, this is inherently difficult to do; Smith stresses the need for contextualization and so it is hard to offer broad, sweeping proposals for all of his readers to follow) save that Christians should champion the "common good," both for themselves and for their neighbour. But what does that look like on the ground? I think of a local controversy from a few years back, the opening of safe injections sites in the Downtown Eastside. Is the "common good" to allow these safe injections sites so that drug users can be monitored while they inject drugs into themselves or is the "common good" to oppose these facilities because they wink at narcotics? Or what about language laws when it comes to businesses? Is the "common good" acknowledging that not every immigrant is able to speak the official language(s) of a country fluently and so space should be made for ethnic enclaves where businesses needn't conduct themselves in the country's official language? But then is this forming good citizens? But should we be wary of too heavy a demand for cultural assimilation?
Absent from Smith's book is any interaction with the "social gospel" which is unfortunate, especially since I see it as itself a kind of "Christendom" project. Although the movement seemingly lacks modern leaders of the stature of Walter Rauschenbusch and Tommy Douglas, the social gospel was focused on addressing social problems, many of which now fall under "social justice" in today's parlance.
In a pluralistic, politically-turbulent, post-Christian society, Christians need to know how to participate in culture and politics in order to care for their neighbours while working towards shalom. Smith offers a thoughtful articulation, more measured perhaps, and optimistic than Rod Dreher's 'The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation,' but I would suggest reading both (and especially Hunter's 'To Change the World!').
One of the dangers of challenging yourself to read 75 books in a year is that it can make you read too fast to appreciate a book. This is only exacerbated if your reading of the book is fragmentary and even WORSE if you are not reading it alongside someone else so you can digest and discuss the book together. I might be guilty of a "poor" reading of 'Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology,' as a result.
This is the final volume in James K.A. Smith's masterful Cultural Liturgies trilogy. It builds off of the earlier two volumes, in which Smith makes a powerful and persuasive case that EVERYONE, not just the religious, are liturgical creatures - we ALL worship something or someone, whether that is the God of the Bible, Allah, money, sex, acclaim, etc...We become liturgical creatures through practice, whether that is through the liturgy of the church or the tithing of money at the mall or participation in the electoral calendar. Smith explores the interplay between liturgical practice/formation and politics most clearly in the first chapter, "Rites Talk: The Worship of Democracy."
Smith raised numerous points that I appreciate and affirm (through reading his earlier works I had already bought into his basic premise that worship forms us as liturgical creatures). For instance, he asserts that we must be aware of our historical context; particularity is important and we must be keen and observant cultural ethnographers (Smith highlights the role of ethnography for theology) of our society's zeitgeist (p. 124-25). He explains:
"We need to beware of policy proposals that are 'principled' but fail to attend to history. Society is never a blank slate. We always find ourselves in some historically determined moment. Our 'here and now' is always the product of a 'there and then.' While good policy should be informed by enduring, even timeless wisdom, it is always policy FOR a particular people at a particular moment with a particular history" (p. 128).
Smith follows many Reformed thinkers in advocating for a "prinicipled pluralism" but notes that this is a difficult concept to attain and he offers suggestions for how to "reform" it, particularly through inculcating the right habits and virtues of good citizenship (p. 144-45). He worries that a thin form of "prinicipled pluralism" can be too acquiescent, stating, "It's as if principled pluralism becomes a theological rationale for assuring liberal democrats that we're willing to play along with their functionally naturalized, secularized political game. Give us a seat at the table. We won't be a bother. We won't be so gauche as to invoke Jesus. We understand the rules. We promise to invoke only 'political' truth" (p. 141). He further laments that:
"as both liberalism and capitalism tend to devour and erode just these institutions and communities [which form good citizens], they end up being a parasite that, starved by its own hunger, consumes the host and thus endangers its own demise. This raises serious questions about the viability of pluralism FROM THE LEFT, which has of late exhibited neither patience nor tolerance nor humility. While Christian political theologians continue to fret about the perceived threat of a Constantinian 'takeover,' in fact the most potent forces of hegemony and homogeneity have been progressives who are all too confident that they know the truth and thus are disinclined to be tolerant of those who disagree, or to wait for them to catch up with the 'right side of history.' Thus, pluralism is looking less and less like a LIBERAL ideal. What if it is, in fact, religious communities that are best able to articulate WHY we ought to be tolerant and that have the resources to cultivate tolerant citizens?" (p. 147)
(This is particularly apropos considering the recent mandate by the Trudeau government that would make ineligible for summer job grant funding those organizations which affirm a pro-life stance).
Smith also counters the common condemnation of Christendom that is often launched by the Yoder/Hauerwas branch of Christian thinking. Christendom involves the relationship between the church and the state. Smith asserts that Christendom is itself "missional" and that Christendom is not just the idealization of Roman Catholic ultramontanists or Christian Reconstructionists - even the civil rights movement itself was a "Christendom project" for Christendom is truly a "MISSIONAL endeavor that hopes and aims to expose governments and systems to the transformative power of the gospel" (p. 163). Smith quotes Peter Leithart who pithily but forcefully states "There was no arena in Constantinople;" though many are suspicious of Emperor Constantine, upon his conversion the gospel began to make inroads into the empire (p. 114).
One of the philosophical/theological questions I constantly wrestle with is the validity and viability of "natural law." I believe that Roman Catholics tend to uphold natural law, noting that a certain sense of good and evil still, despite the Fall, lingers in human beings (Romans 2 appears to indicate this). However, Smith offers a persuasive critique of natural law, arguing:
"Much that traffics under the banner of 'Christian' political theology and public engagement has little to do with the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, what we get from allegedly 'Christian' public theologies are appeals to creation order and natural law, norms restricted to general revelation and the dictates of 'reason.' But where does reason dictate penance? And where does the natural law commend forgiveness and mercy? Did creation order ever drive us to our knees in a passionate prayer of confession? Yet are not such practices and virtues germane to the image-bearing task of governing?" (p. 153).
Smith, along with most Protestants, seems to affirm that the Fall has entirely warped our moral capacity so that natural law itself is insufficient (indeed, he notes that natural law tends to be unpersuasive, such as natural law arguments against same-sex marriage, p. 155); instead, we require the radical and alien proclamation and pedagogy of special revelation that the creation order cannot come to on its own. In fact, Smith remarks:
"Worship is not a rehearsal of a 'natural law' that can be known by reason or conscience; it is the restor(y)ing of a renewed humanity who are liturgically schooled. The index and criterion for justice and the right ordering of society is not some generic, universal, or 'natural' canon but rather the revealed, biblical story unfolded in God's covenant relationship with Israel and the church" (p. 60; see also p. 67n31).
Thus, worship is about pedagogy and must be EXPLAINED so individuals are formed rightly in community (p. 205; one of the things I most appreciate about the service sheet at St. John's Vancouver Anglican Church is that on the side of the page there are explanatory notes that inform readers about why we confess and which describes the Apostle's Creed as the "national anthem" of the Christian Church). This is crucial so that individuals are not MALformed. Smith uses the example of Michael Corleone from "The Godfather" films (in so doing, Smith is addressing a common critique of the Cultural Liturgies project - that even those who seemingly participate in liturgy often lead very hypocritical and sinful lives). Corleone puts on the public display of being devout, attending weddings, funerals, baptisms, but how much of this is performed merely as an act of ethnic function? There is no evidence that Corleone truly seeks to live out Christian practices intentionally; rather, he (inconsistently) participates in these rites for show (p. 203-04).
Lastly, following Hans Boersma, Smith worries that a frenetic swing of the pendulum has occurred among Christians. Before, fundamentalists and evangelicals were too focused on heaven (as Larry Norman sings "What a mess that world is in / I wonder who began it? / Don't ask me / I'm only visiting this planet") but in recent years we have reaffirmed the goodness of Creation (I think N.T. Wright's 'Surprised By Hope: Rethinking Heaven, Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church' has been especially influential). In doing so, believers have perhaps made Christianity TOO immanent and this has had the negative affect of poisoning our political discourse because the politics of the earthly city thereby becomes ultimate; rather, we need to be oriented to the heavenly city (p. 210, 212-13).
Still, I found myself a little underwhelmed by this last volume. The book at times felt discombobulated as Smith took excursions to tighten up arguments of the overall Cultural Liturgies project. There were stretches of "Awaiting the King," particularly the second chapter, that read more like "James K.A. Smith's Commentary on Oliver O'Donovan's 'Desire of the Nations'" (O'Donovan is a brilliant thinker, but I would've liked to have seen some more original thought; another problem is that I haven't read much O'Donovan myself). This also occurred in the sixth chapter on "Contested Formations: Our 'Godfather' Problem" with the works of Willie James Jennings and Ephraim Radner though in that case I can at least appreciate that Smith is using these two scholars' as interlocutors to address criticisms of the Cultural Liturgies project. I've read several books on Christianity and politics already (especially James Davison Hunter's excellent 'To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World') so I have already thought through a lot of what Smith covered.
Another reason for being underwhelmed could be that there is not a whole lot of concrete proposals offered (I admit, this is inherently difficult to do; Smith stresses the need for contextualization and so it is hard to offer broad, sweeping proposals for all of his readers to follow) save that Christians should champion the "common good," both for themselves and for their neighbour. But what does that look like on the ground? I think of a local controversy from a few years back, the opening of safe injections sites in the Downtown Eastside. Is the "common good" to allow these safe injections sites so that drug users can be monitored while they inject drugs into themselves or is the "common good" to oppose these facilities because they wink at narcotics? Or what about language laws when it comes to businesses? Is the "common good" acknowledging that not every immigrant is able to speak the official language(s) of a country fluently and so space should be made for ethnic enclaves where businesses needn't conduct themselves in the country's official language? But then is this forming good citizens? But should we be wary of too heavy a demand for cultural assimilation?
Absent from Smith's book is any interaction with the "social gospel" which is unfortunate, especially since I see it as itself a kind of "Christendom" project. Although the movement seemingly lacks modern leaders of the stature of Walter Rauschenbusch and Tommy Douglas, the social gospel was focused on addressing social problems, many of which now fall under "social justice" in today's parlance.
In a pluralistic, politically-turbulent, post-Christian society, Christians need to know how to participate in culture and politics in order to care for their neighbours while working towards shalom. Smith offers a thoughtful articulation, more measured perhaps, and optimistic than Rod Dreher's 'The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation,' but I would suggest reading both (and especially Hunter's 'To Change the World!').
January 11, 2019
Humans are primarily creatures of love, not merely creatures of thinking. This is one of the primary insights James KA Smith has made throughout his three books in his Cultural Liturgies series. Drinking deeply from the well of modernity, too many Christians uncritically accepted that we primarily approach the world as thinkers. From this, if you want to change a person the place to start is to change their mind. Smith argues that it is in our liturgy - our practices of worship - that we are truly shaped. Further, life is filled with competing liturgies. No one is handed a textbook as a child that argues them into becoming good consumers or Americans. Instead, it is our experiences at shopping malls, hearing advertisements on tv, being given toys at holidays from our child years, and judging worth based on money that shapes us into consumers. The same goes for being patriotic Americans - fourth of July parades, pledges every morning at school and more shape us from our earliest years. The church offers a competing liturgy from the worship service each week (which Smith emphasizes in Desiring the Kingdom) to the church years, daily office and more.
In this final book, Smith turns to politics. But not politics as we often think about it, focused only on how we vote once a year. Politics encompasses the whole of public life, of Christian being in the world. Throughout the book he leans heavily on Augustine's classic City of God and Oliver O'Donovan's The Desire of the Nations. Smith writes from the Reformed perspective, speaking often of Kuyper, but not uncritically. He also is in conversation with Hauerwas, Milbank, MacIntyre and many others. That said, while this book is not an easy read by any stretch, it serves as a fantastic distillation of the work of these other writers. Smith is writing for pastors and while the typical pastor may not read City of God, she can read Smith.
Overall, this might be my favorite book in the series. I have long wrestled with what it looks like to bring my faith into the public square. Working with college students, discussions on this are a regular thing. What does it mean to be a loyal American and a Christian? Can you be? I tend to put myself in the Anabaptist camp (with some of my favorite writers/pastors being guys like Greg Boyd and Brian Zahnd). At the same time, I have often felt uncomfortable with a sort of retreat from society sectarianism implicit in much Anabaptism. Shouldn't our faith apply to public life in some way? These seems to be some sort of arbitrary line drawn in many cases. Voting, or even advocating, for truth and justice is fine, the Anabaptists tell me, but actually serving in law enforcement or politics is not. But why? And why are Christians in other businesses which are as steeped in injustice (and sin) not held to the same standard as Christians in politics.
Of course, I am even more uncomfortable with what passes for much Christian engagement in America. Progressive Christians often seem to basically look to government alone as savior and to jettison anything distinctly Christian in order to get on the cultural progress bandwagon. Conservative Christians have come out of the closet in recent decades, ultimately selling their souls for a taste of power by endorsing a megalomaniac narcissist in Trump.
Through all this, Smith offers what I think is a pretty tight way forward. He argues that Augustine's City of God has been misread into a sort of two-kingdoms theology where we Christians have different allegiances. This is to take later Christian thought and read it back to Augustine. Our allegiance, Smith argues Augustine is saying, is to God's kingdom. Period. The heavenly city is breaking into this world. The problem is that we substitute geography for time. So we see God's kingdom as over here, but then the earthly city is over there, and we owe allegiance to both in different levels. But the real issue is time - the earthly city exists but is passing away as the heavenly city becomes more a reality.
From this, Smith offers an argument that essentially redeems Christendom. The radical idea underpinning Christendom was that these earthly kingdoms are all subject to something greater - God's kingdom. The Church was meant to function in Christendom as a prophetic voice. We Christians live in these earthly cities, but the ultimate city is God's.
This is one huge place I think many of my Anabaptist friends are sloppy in their analysis. The rhetoric often goes that Christendom was bad. Period. Constantine converted and everything went downhill. The question is, should Constantine not have been allowed to convert? Should he have resigned as emperor? Does faith not have a place in public life? Further, Smith briefly contrasts Eusebius with Augustine. Eusebius is the sort of apologist for Empire that Anabaptists are right to be deeply critical of. But like any historical analysis, things are more complex in the details. In other words, not all Christian political thinkers were Eusebius. There was Ambrose of Milan challenging Emperor Theodosius after the slaughter of Thessalonika. Augustine is more in line with Ambrose then he was with Eusebius. Christendom cannot simply be seen as evil all through. Further, and this is much more of Smith's book than I am mentioning, he argues that the assumptions of our liberal democracy (freedom of speech, representative democracy, etc.) are all rooted in the Christian faith. A large part of Christian political theology is reminding the culture that these ideas at the core of our post-Christian secular societies are not a given but are instead rooted in Christian thought.
At the same time, Christendom was not perfect. Smith ends the book with discussing the challenge of Christian failure. If formation happens in a life of liturgy, then how come so many Christians steeped in the rhythms of Christian life, failed miserably. How was it that Christians not only reluctantly went along with the trans-Atlantic slave-trade but endorsed it wholeheartedly? Smith's answer is to remind us we live in a world of competing liturgies. These evils happened when other liturgies (nationalism, racism) twisted authentic Christian liturgy. The solution is not no liturgy because we cannot have no liturgy. This is the point he made earlier in the book, and throughout the series. You cannot escape liturgy. If we think we can enter the political realm as a sort of neutral sphere, we are wrong. Even the political realm and the public place shape us. Sometimes, both present and past, these other liturgies have snuck into the church and shaped us more than the story of Jesus (think of the Christians today who attend church faithfully but spend the other six days immersed in Fox News or CNN and talk radio...which is shaping them more?).
I do wish this is one place Smith had gone a little farther. Smith emphasizes that if we believe the Christian story of who God is and what God has done in Jesus, this is good news for everyone. So we owe it, out of love, to not lay aside our faith as we enter the public sphere but to be driven by our faith. A culture infused with the gospel at all levels is going to lead to flourishing for all people. Yet, the question is, what do we do about those who cannot help but see the spectre of Christians wanting to take over and force their morality on other people? History is littered with the bodies of those who died at the hands of others who thought they knew what was best. Of course, Smith would argue that the Christian story has no place for such destruction. But do Christians today have any standing to convince the watching world we actually want what is best for them?
For example, Smith uses "evangelical" throughout the book. I think to most people today, "evangelical" means "white Christian Republicans". I don't think that is what Smith means. He might respond he is using the word in its proper, scholarly meaning. But the 99% of people who don't read books like this don't think of evangelicals in the proper, historical way. Smith might say that most "evangelicals" in America have been more shaped by the liturgies of Fox News, the Republican party and talk radio (Progressive Christians have their own liturgies corrupting them). But if that is the case, is it a helpful word on a practical level?
Along with that, I wonder about the example Smith gives on p. 156-157. Here he talks about how some have realized that arguing on the terms of "natural law" has failed so why not just argue honestly from their faith. This is a good point. But his example is arguments against the legality of same-sex marriage. Whatever the individual reader personally thinks about same-sex marriage is not the point here; my question is, why that issue? The argument is that a Christian public theology will be good for everyone. But the example is the one issue conservative Christians always focus on. The curious reader may wonder, does such a political theology really want what's best for me? Is a committed same-sex couple that has been married for four decades bad for society? Really? If we think it is, then okay, then say same-sex marriage should be illegal. Logically, a promiscuous straight man is also bad for society. Shouldn't all sex outside marriage be illegal. Perhaps excessive sugar is bad for society as it leads to obesity which leads to healthcare costs and such. What about violent movies? Women showing too much skin? Men showing too much skin? Playing cards?
My point is that even as I agree with 95% of what Smith is saying, there are hints like the one above that make me wonder if a Christian political theology that he endorses has really learned from the errors of Christendom? After all, why the focus on sex and not on violence. My Anabaptist friends would say (and I agree here) that Jesus' teaching is clearly for his followers to not take up the sword. But, as Smith illustrates with a fantastic story of Augustine, a Christian political theology can leave room for military force in some cases, why couldn't a Christian political theology essentially leave same-sex couples alone. Again, my issue is not necessarily with whether or not same-sex relationships per se, it is with singling them out. Maybe I am reading a lot into two pages and one illustration. But, for the curious outsider wondering if a Christian public theology is really good for them, this might make them wonder if legislating Christian morality will lead to the worst of Puritanism.
That aside, this book is excellent. It leaves room for more discussion and thought. Smith helps me see the good in Christendom and reminds us to be humble in our work in the world. May we be truly humble as we both speak truth in love and work for the good of everyone.
In this final book, Smith turns to politics. But not politics as we often think about it, focused only on how we vote once a year. Politics encompasses the whole of public life, of Christian being in the world. Throughout the book he leans heavily on Augustine's classic City of God and Oliver O'Donovan's The Desire of the Nations. Smith writes from the Reformed perspective, speaking often of Kuyper, but not uncritically. He also is in conversation with Hauerwas, Milbank, MacIntyre and many others. That said, while this book is not an easy read by any stretch, it serves as a fantastic distillation of the work of these other writers. Smith is writing for pastors and while the typical pastor may not read City of God, she can read Smith.
Overall, this might be my favorite book in the series. I have long wrestled with what it looks like to bring my faith into the public square. Working with college students, discussions on this are a regular thing. What does it mean to be a loyal American and a Christian? Can you be? I tend to put myself in the Anabaptist camp (with some of my favorite writers/pastors being guys like Greg Boyd and Brian Zahnd). At the same time, I have often felt uncomfortable with a sort of retreat from society sectarianism implicit in much Anabaptism. Shouldn't our faith apply to public life in some way? These seems to be some sort of arbitrary line drawn in many cases. Voting, or even advocating, for truth and justice is fine, the Anabaptists tell me, but actually serving in law enforcement or politics is not. But why? And why are Christians in other businesses which are as steeped in injustice (and sin) not held to the same standard as Christians in politics.
Of course, I am even more uncomfortable with what passes for much Christian engagement in America. Progressive Christians often seem to basically look to government alone as savior and to jettison anything distinctly Christian in order to get on the cultural progress bandwagon. Conservative Christians have come out of the closet in recent decades, ultimately selling their souls for a taste of power by endorsing a megalomaniac narcissist in Trump.
Through all this, Smith offers what I think is a pretty tight way forward. He argues that Augustine's City of God has been misread into a sort of two-kingdoms theology where we Christians have different allegiances. This is to take later Christian thought and read it back to Augustine. Our allegiance, Smith argues Augustine is saying, is to God's kingdom. Period. The heavenly city is breaking into this world. The problem is that we substitute geography for time. So we see God's kingdom as over here, but then the earthly city is over there, and we owe allegiance to both in different levels. But the real issue is time - the earthly city exists but is passing away as the heavenly city becomes more a reality.
From this, Smith offers an argument that essentially redeems Christendom. The radical idea underpinning Christendom was that these earthly kingdoms are all subject to something greater - God's kingdom. The Church was meant to function in Christendom as a prophetic voice. We Christians live in these earthly cities, but the ultimate city is God's.
This is one huge place I think many of my Anabaptist friends are sloppy in their analysis. The rhetoric often goes that Christendom was bad. Period. Constantine converted and everything went downhill. The question is, should Constantine not have been allowed to convert? Should he have resigned as emperor? Does faith not have a place in public life? Further, Smith briefly contrasts Eusebius with Augustine. Eusebius is the sort of apologist for Empire that Anabaptists are right to be deeply critical of. But like any historical analysis, things are more complex in the details. In other words, not all Christian political thinkers were Eusebius. There was Ambrose of Milan challenging Emperor Theodosius after the slaughter of Thessalonika. Augustine is more in line with Ambrose then he was with Eusebius. Christendom cannot simply be seen as evil all through. Further, and this is much more of Smith's book than I am mentioning, he argues that the assumptions of our liberal democracy (freedom of speech, representative democracy, etc.) are all rooted in the Christian faith. A large part of Christian political theology is reminding the culture that these ideas at the core of our post-Christian secular societies are not a given but are instead rooted in Christian thought.
At the same time, Christendom was not perfect. Smith ends the book with discussing the challenge of Christian failure. If formation happens in a life of liturgy, then how come so many Christians steeped in the rhythms of Christian life, failed miserably. How was it that Christians not only reluctantly went along with the trans-Atlantic slave-trade but endorsed it wholeheartedly? Smith's answer is to remind us we live in a world of competing liturgies. These evils happened when other liturgies (nationalism, racism) twisted authentic Christian liturgy. The solution is not no liturgy because we cannot have no liturgy. This is the point he made earlier in the book, and throughout the series. You cannot escape liturgy. If we think we can enter the political realm as a sort of neutral sphere, we are wrong. Even the political realm and the public place shape us. Sometimes, both present and past, these other liturgies have snuck into the church and shaped us more than the story of Jesus (think of the Christians today who attend church faithfully but spend the other six days immersed in Fox News or CNN and talk radio...which is shaping them more?).
I do wish this is one place Smith had gone a little farther. Smith emphasizes that if we believe the Christian story of who God is and what God has done in Jesus, this is good news for everyone. So we owe it, out of love, to not lay aside our faith as we enter the public sphere but to be driven by our faith. A culture infused with the gospel at all levels is going to lead to flourishing for all people. Yet, the question is, what do we do about those who cannot help but see the spectre of Christians wanting to take over and force their morality on other people? History is littered with the bodies of those who died at the hands of others who thought they knew what was best. Of course, Smith would argue that the Christian story has no place for such destruction. But do Christians today have any standing to convince the watching world we actually want what is best for them?
For example, Smith uses "evangelical" throughout the book. I think to most people today, "evangelical" means "white Christian Republicans". I don't think that is what Smith means. He might respond he is using the word in its proper, scholarly meaning. But the 99% of people who don't read books like this don't think of evangelicals in the proper, historical way. Smith might say that most "evangelicals" in America have been more shaped by the liturgies of Fox News, the Republican party and talk radio (Progressive Christians have their own liturgies corrupting them). But if that is the case, is it a helpful word on a practical level?
Along with that, I wonder about the example Smith gives on p. 156-157. Here he talks about how some have realized that arguing on the terms of "natural law" has failed so why not just argue honestly from their faith. This is a good point. But his example is arguments against the legality of same-sex marriage. Whatever the individual reader personally thinks about same-sex marriage is not the point here; my question is, why that issue? The argument is that a Christian public theology will be good for everyone. But the example is the one issue conservative Christians always focus on. The curious reader may wonder, does such a political theology really want what's best for me? Is a committed same-sex couple that has been married for four decades bad for society? Really? If we think it is, then okay, then say same-sex marriage should be illegal. Logically, a promiscuous straight man is also bad for society. Shouldn't all sex outside marriage be illegal. Perhaps excessive sugar is bad for society as it leads to obesity which leads to healthcare costs and such. What about violent movies? Women showing too much skin? Men showing too much skin? Playing cards?
My point is that even as I agree with 95% of what Smith is saying, there are hints like the one above that make me wonder if a Christian political theology that he endorses has really learned from the errors of Christendom? After all, why the focus on sex and not on violence. My Anabaptist friends would say (and I agree here) that Jesus' teaching is clearly for his followers to not take up the sword. But, as Smith illustrates with a fantastic story of Augustine, a Christian political theology can leave room for military force in some cases, why couldn't a Christian political theology essentially leave same-sex couples alone. Again, my issue is not necessarily with whether or not same-sex relationships per se, it is with singling them out. Maybe I am reading a lot into two pages and one illustration. But, for the curious outsider wondering if a Christian public theology is really good for them, this might make them wonder if legislating Christian morality will lead to the worst of Puritanism.
That aside, this book is excellent. It leaves room for more discussion and thought. Smith helps me see the good in Christendom and reminds us to be humble in our work in the world. May we be truly humble as we both speak truth in love and work for the good of everyone.
February 1, 2018
Summary: A theology of public (and not just political) life exploring both how public life is "liturgical" and the church "political" and the possibilities and limits on engagement in the life of the "city of Man" for those who identify their hope and citizenship with the "city of God."
The 2016 election season in the U. S. underscored how vitally needed is a "public theology" among Christians in the U.S., both to shed light both on the outcome, and the path forward. But this is not new. People have been lodging unrealistic hopes in political figures, and churches have permitted themselves to be held captive by glittering images since the time of Augustine.
In this work, the third volume in his "Cultural Liturgies" series James K. A. Smith articulates a public theology that is both corrective and visionary. Drawing on Augustine, he develops an understanding of the two cities that both requires us to determine which city will hold our love and loyalty, and how we might live in the "city of man." He articulates a vision that leads neither to withdrawal into religious enclaves nor to becoming captive to a particular party, ideology, or leader.
Building on his earlier works, he observes that it is not only the liturgies of our church communities, but also those of our public life that shape our loves and our actions, sometimes far more than those of our churches. He also observes that we cannot retreat from political life, because our churches, and wider Christian movements are also a polis of people who are part of the already/not yet "city of God" which is our ultimate hope and primary allegiance.
In Augustine's day, this led him to counsel rulers to exercise Christian virtues in ruling justly as servants of the people while recognizing the disordered love of the city of man. Augustine recognized that rulers could herald the kingdom while realizing that their just and diligent rule only accomplished penultimate aims.
He makes the interesting proposal that our liberal tradition that has allowed freedoms of speech and even pluralism is both rooted in and may best be sustained by Christian principles rather than a Rawlsian secularism. He also criticizes the applications of Kuyperian "sphere sovereignty" that exclude explicitly Christian referents from the spheres of public life. What he calls for is not a new Constantinianism (which he would contend is actually the propensity of secular ideologies), so much as John Inazu's "confident pluralism" that protects all religious expressions in the public square through the virtues of tolerance, humility, and patience. He thinks a "return to natural law" is not what is called for but a full recovery of the Christian story of the death, resurrection and coming kingdom of Jesus lived out in the church's formative practices. These ought to primarily shape our lives and concerns in the public arena while we recognize that our ultimate concern is not to "transform culture" but to point, in our public life, to the coming kingdom.
Chapter Six on contested formations, with its example from the Godfather of a Corleone mob hit occurring simultaneous with one of the family's children being baptized, was sobering. It explains how pious religion can walk hand in hand with invidious forms of nationalism, racism, violence, and tyrannies of the left and right. Our public formation trumps our Christian formation, and our Christian formation ends up baptizing the public one. Smith admits there is no "silver bullet" (an interesting metaphor in the context of The Godfather!) but this underscores the role of pastor as public theologian, connecting the church's formative practices to life outside the church walls. He then concludes with four rules for ad hoc collaborations that delineate the possibilities and boundaries for Christians in public life.
Smith gives us a public theology rooted in Augustine yet conversant with Rawls, Hauerwas, Kuyper, and Charles Taylor. This is a book that needs to be read by any thoughtful Christian who cares about our public life. It is a book for pastors who want to better help their people understand the present time. It is a book for church leaders wrestling with how their church's liturgical life, and formative practices might shape a counter-cultural people. Give this book your full attention and I believe it will open your eyes to new possibilities beyond our political divides and politically captive imagination. It did for me.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
The 2016 election season in the U. S. underscored how vitally needed is a "public theology" among Christians in the U.S., both to shed light both on the outcome, and the path forward. But this is not new. People have been lodging unrealistic hopes in political figures, and churches have permitted themselves to be held captive by glittering images since the time of Augustine.
In this work, the third volume in his "Cultural Liturgies" series James K. A. Smith articulates a public theology that is both corrective and visionary. Drawing on Augustine, he develops an understanding of the two cities that both requires us to determine which city will hold our love and loyalty, and how we might live in the "city of man." He articulates a vision that leads neither to withdrawal into religious enclaves nor to becoming captive to a particular party, ideology, or leader.
Building on his earlier works, he observes that it is not only the liturgies of our church communities, but also those of our public life that shape our loves and our actions, sometimes far more than those of our churches. He also observes that we cannot retreat from political life, because our churches, and wider Christian movements are also a polis of people who are part of the already/not yet "city of God" which is our ultimate hope and primary allegiance.
In Augustine's day, this led him to counsel rulers to exercise Christian virtues in ruling justly as servants of the people while recognizing the disordered love of the city of man. Augustine recognized that rulers could herald the kingdom while realizing that their just and diligent rule only accomplished penultimate aims.
He makes the interesting proposal that our liberal tradition that has allowed freedoms of speech and even pluralism is both rooted in and may best be sustained by Christian principles rather than a Rawlsian secularism. He also criticizes the applications of Kuyperian "sphere sovereignty" that exclude explicitly Christian referents from the spheres of public life. What he calls for is not a new Constantinianism (which he would contend is actually the propensity of secular ideologies), so much as John Inazu's "confident pluralism" that protects all religious expressions in the public square through the virtues of tolerance, humility, and patience. He thinks a "return to natural law" is not what is called for but a full recovery of the Christian story of the death, resurrection and coming kingdom of Jesus lived out in the church's formative practices. These ought to primarily shape our lives and concerns in the public arena while we recognize that our ultimate concern is not to "transform culture" but to point, in our public life, to the coming kingdom.
Chapter Six on contested formations, with its example from the Godfather of a Corleone mob hit occurring simultaneous with one of the family's children being baptized, was sobering. It explains how pious religion can walk hand in hand with invidious forms of nationalism, racism, violence, and tyrannies of the left and right. Our public formation trumps our Christian formation, and our Christian formation ends up baptizing the public one. Smith admits there is no "silver bullet" (an interesting metaphor in the context of The Godfather!) but this underscores the role of pastor as public theologian, connecting the church's formative practices to life outside the church walls. He then concludes with four rules for ad hoc collaborations that delineate the possibilities and boundaries for Christians in public life.
Smith gives us a public theology rooted in Augustine yet conversant with Rawls, Hauerwas, Kuyper, and Charles Taylor. This is a book that needs to be read by any thoughtful Christian who cares about our public life. It is a book for pastors who want to better help their people understand the present time. It is a book for church leaders wrestling with how their church's liturgical life, and formative practices might shape a counter-cultural people. Give this book your full attention and I believe it will open your eyes to new possibilities beyond our political divides and politically captive imagination. It did for me.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
January 23, 2018
A nice conclusion to a remarkable trilogy. While each volume seems to have to have it's own eclectic style and concerns, this seemed to me to be the most eclectic of the three. I began this trilogy now around 5 years ago and to finish it now I can see how it has shaped my thoughts on things like theological anthropology, and ecclesiological practice. This book strikes an interesting note as it touches on the intersection between ecclesial practices and "politics"—understood as the day in, day out living in a community.
There are Smithian idiosyncrasies, and some of the chapters are better than others. I also wonder if Smith's criticisms of things like the two kingdoms doctrine, and the natural law, are aimed at straw men. There was plenty of his proposals that, on my reading, are consonant with certain articulations of those proposals. Recent scholarship has also showed the way that even Kuyper himself is working with a form of the 2K doctrine (see, e.g., Going Dutch in the Modern Age: Abraham Kuyper's Struggle for a Free Church in the Nineteenth Century Netherlands by J. H. Wood).
In addition, it's important to read early Dutch Neocalvinists (like Bavinck) in light of the papal encyclical Aeternis Patris and the way in which that shaped later Thomism. Bavinck's rejection of natural law, for example, is only intelligible within that context.
Regardless, I love this trilogy. This final volume did not disappoint. The best chapters, in my opinion, were on the "craters of the gospel" and liberalisms borrowed capital from Christianity, and Smith addressing the "godfather problem" related to his project. Well worth the read and a brilliant conclusion to an important work in 21st c. theology.
There are Smithian idiosyncrasies, and some of the chapters are better than others. I also wonder if Smith's criticisms of things like the two kingdoms doctrine, and the natural law, are aimed at straw men. There was plenty of his proposals that, on my reading, are consonant with certain articulations of those proposals. Recent scholarship has also showed the way that even Kuyper himself is working with a form of the 2K doctrine (see, e.g., Going Dutch in the Modern Age: Abraham Kuyper's Struggle for a Free Church in the Nineteenth Century Netherlands by J. H. Wood).
In addition, it's important to read early Dutch Neocalvinists (like Bavinck) in light of the papal encyclical Aeternis Patris and the way in which that shaped later Thomism. Bavinck's rejection of natural law, for example, is only intelligible within that context.
Regardless, I love this trilogy. This final volume did not disappoint. The best chapters, in my opinion, were on the "craters of the gospel" and liberalisms borrowed capital from Christianity, and Smith addressing the "godfather problem" related to his project. Well worth the read and a brilliant conclusion to an important work in 21st c. theology.
December 5, 2017
This is the book I’ve desired to read for about the past three to four years. Someone finally wrote it. (I was starting to worry I’d have to write it myself). Chapters one and two bolster the political nature of the church. Then chapters three through six work out the implications for Christian participation in earthly politics. Smith sketches what it might look like to do politics in a hopeful key, from a place of cruciform authority rather than sheer power.
In brief, Smith takes the concept of “church as polis” seriously (contra court-evangelicals), without over-realizing eschatology (contra Hauerwas). The church is the primary polis, which forms saints and funds imaginations. But—and this is a crucial but—we live in the saeculum, a passing age in which earthly authority has a mitigated, but necessary role. And because Christ is king over all of creation, Christ’s kingship has implications for political authority (Psalm 2). The church is to constantly witness to the state that it’s living on short time and borrowed authority; the King will return soon. But this does not mean abandoning the political arena. Rather it means calculated, measured participation driven by the evangelical proclamation for the sake of the common good.
(If this sounds like Christendom, that’s because it is. And if that scares you, it’s almost certainly because nobody knows what Christendom actually is; they just know it’s an undesirable political scheme of ages passed. Read this book if you’d like to hear a winsome case for actual Christendom.)
In brief, Smith takes the concept of “church as polis” seriously (contra court-evangelicals), without over-realizing eschatology (contra Hauerwas). The church is the primary polis, which forms saints and funds imaginations. But—and this is a crucial but—we live in the saeculum, a passing age in which earthly authority has a mitigated, but necessary role. And because Christ is king over all of creation, Christ’s kingship has implications for political authority (Psalm 2). The church is to constantly witness to the state that it’s living on short time and borrowed authority; the King will return soon. But this does not mean abandoning the political arena. Rather it means calculated, measured participation driven by the evangelical proclamation for the sake of the common good.
(If this sounds like Christendom, that’s because it is. And if that scares you, it’s almost certainly because nobody knows what Christendom actually is; they just know it’s an undesirable political scheme of ages passed. Read this book if you’d like to hear a winsome case for actual Christendom.)
November 18, 2017
One of the brilliant insights of Smith’s book (and others in the trilogy) is that we are worshiping creatures whose hearts are formed and deformed by the million competing liturgies to which we are exposed. In the past, I've envisioned myself as keeping politics at arm's length. I had no use for its "liturgies." I've come to realize, more and more, not only the impossibility of such insular living but the abdication of my responsibility in doing so. What this books calls for is an awareness and critique of those political liturgies, which all too often are idolatrous in their goals, and the need for the liturgy of the church to (re)shape our hearts so that we are prepared to live and work and vote in the world as Christian citizens. This liturgy of the Gospel, in recalibrating our hearts toward the love of God and neighbor, prepares us to engage politically in such a way that, remaining faithful to our King, we endeavor also to shape culture and politics to reflect, however feebly, God's design for creatures made in his image.
Want to read
January 6, 2018
February 23, 2019
Awaiting the King is the third and final installment in James KA Smith’s Cultural Liturgies series. In this final book, Smith considers what it looks like for Christians to engage in a democracy. Given the state of political tension in America, Smith’s book is timely.
The foundation for Smith’s answer is found in an Augustinian anthropology. Smith believes that when we consider ourselves as those who are fundamentally shaped by our hearts and not our minds that the way in which we engage our world changes. What if we aren’t fundamentally thinking things, but those whose passions guide us? Smith asks, “What if politics… is really about ‘longing in the world?’”
If we are worshipers, then democracy also has its own worship. Our question as Christians should be what that worship is and how we should challenge it. Politics always seeks more: more commitment, more allegiance. In Smith’s words, “[T]he political is not content to remain penultimate.”
What is ultimate culturally and politically shapes its citizens. “Every society makes a ‘people’; every polis breeds character. Laws function as ‘nudges’ that are habit-forming.” And yet, while those values look vaguely Christian, they are cut off from the proper telos and so they can never be truly Christian. “Late liberalism, one may say, in taking up the banner of ‘pluralism,’ has made itself self-consciously polytheistic.”
There is a “prescience of GK Chesterton’s observation that ‘the modern world is full of old Christian virtues gone mad’—virtues ‘isolated from each other and wandering alone.” We can examine how we are being formed by our culture by examining what our culture loves. “Since as [Augustine] memorably puts it, ‘a people is an association of a multitude of rational beings united by a common agreement on the objects of their love, then it follows that to observe the character of a particular people we must examine the objects of its love.’ And if you want to see what a people loves, look at what they worship, what they devote themselves to.”
Later, Smith examines those loves: “Hence it shouldn’t be a surprise that the liturgies of consumerism, nationalism, militarism, and egoism effectively trump the limited, token-ish participation in merely one facet of Christian discipleship—that is, Sunday gathered worship.” This is dangerous, because, “It’s not long before we see the specter of nationalism and the shadow side of the political, the ways in which the political is often not content to be penultimate but rather slides toward its own kind of civil religion.”
In fact, politics creates its own version of religious ritual: “A secularized culture has its own renditions of original sin, its own version of sanctification (a sort of politically correct form of enlightenment), its own exercises in purification and excommunication… These are not habits of an ethos that is agnostic about what’s ultimate.”
The idea that the Christian can just enter into the political world without accommodation is false, then. What should the Christian do, then? Separate him or herself from politics? No. But our worship of the true King, must shape our engagement in the political arena. Our allegiance is to one king alone: “Worship is ultimately and fundamentally a theocentric act, commanded and invited by the King.”
There must be tension between the political world and the church. “The introduction of the church into any city means that the city has a challenger within its walls.” And every time the church gathers, the church recommits itself to its true object of worship. “The weekly gathering of the saints is a rite that rehearses their heavenly citizenship.” Our heavenly citizenship isn’t just an idea, it’s an affection that must be cultivated.
The Christian is one who lives in a foreign land and awaits the return of the King. Our hope is never in the politics of this age, but in the coming King. In fact, Smith says, “Our most revolutionary political act is to hope.” It is because of this that we aren’t trapped by the 24 hour news cycle and demagoguery that fills our age. “To be a Christian is to be a person who engages in politics but does so without fear.”
Smith acknowledges that while his own vision might seem more aggressive than many more tentative visions of Christian engagement in the political sphere, that corrective is necessary, especially when the secular political vision is totalizing: “While Christian political theologians continue to fret about the perceived threat of a Constantinian ‘takeover,’ in fact the most potent forces of hegemony and homogeneity have been progressives who are all too confident that they know the truth and thus disinclined to be tolerant of those who disagree, or to wait for them to catch up with ‘the right side of history.’ Thus pluralism is looking less and less like a liberal ideal. What if it is, in fact, religious communities that are best able to articulate why we ought to be tolerant that have the resources to cultivate tolerant citizens?”
I commend Smith’s Awaiting the King to you. My only critique is that Awaiting the King is less accessible than Desiring the Kingdom and Imagining the Kingdom. It requires a fair amount of intellectual heavy lifting. I hope that Smith, as he has done with some of his other books, puts out a slimmer, more accessible volume of this important work.
The foundation for Smith’s answer is found in an Augustinian anthropology. Smith believes that when we consider ourselves as those who are fundamentally shaped by our hearts and not our minds that the way in which we engage our world changes. What if we aren’t fundamentally thinking things, but those whose passions guide us? Smith asks, “What if politics… is really about ‘longing in the world?’”
If we are worshipers, then democracy also has its own worship. Our question as Christians should be what that worship is and how we should challenge it. Politics always seeks more: more commitment, more allegiance. In Smith’s words, “[T]he political is not content to remain penultimate.”
What is ultimate culturally and politically shapes its citizens. “Every society makes a ‘people’; every polis breeds character. Laws function as ‘nudges’ that are habit-forming.” And yet, while those values look vaguely Christian, they are cut off from the proper telos and so they can never be truly Christian. “Late liberalism, one may say, in taking up the banner of ‘pluralism,’ has made itself self-consciously polytheistic.”
There is a “prescience of GK Chesterton’s observation that ‘the modern world is full of old Christian virtues gone mad’—virtues ‘isolated from each other and wandering alone.” We can examine how we are being formed by our culture by examining what our culture loves. “Since as [Augustine] memorably puts it, ‘a people is an association of a multitude of rational beings united by a common agreement on the objects of their love, then it follows that to observe the character of a particular people we must examine the objects of its love.’ And if you want to see what a people loves, look at what they worship, what they devote themselves to.”
Later, Smith examines those loves: “Hence it shouldn’t be a surprise that the liturgies of consumerism, nationalism, militarism, and egoism effectively trump the limited, token-ish participation in merely one facet of Christian discipleship—that is, Sunday gathered worship.” This is dangerous, because, “It’s not long before we see the specter of nationalism and the shadow side of the political, the ways in which the political is often not content to be penultimate but rather slides toward its own kind of civil religion.”
In fact, politics creates its own version of religious ritual: “A secularized culture has its own renditions of original sin, its own version of sanctification (a sort of politically correct form of enlightenment), its own exercises in purification and excommunication… These are not habits of an ethos that is agnostic about what’s ultimate.”
The idea that the Christian can just enter into the political world without accommodation is false, then. What should the Christian do, then? Separate him or herself from politics? No. But our worship of the true King, must shape our engagement in the political arena. Our allegiance is to one king alone: “Worship is ultimately and fundamentally a theocentric act, commanded and invited by the King.”
There must be tension between the political world and the church. “The introduction of the church into any city means that the city has a challenger within its walls.” And every time the church gathers, the church recommits itself to its true object of worship. “The weekly gathering of the saints is a rite that rehearses their heavenly citizenship.” Our heavenly citizenship isn’t just an idea, it’s an affection that must be cultivated.
The Christian is one who lives in a foreign land and awaits the return of the King. Our hope is never in the politics of this age, but in the coming King. In fact, Smith says, “Our most revolutionary political act is to hope.” It is because of this that we aren’t trapped by the 24 hour news cycle and demagoguery that fills our age. “To be a Christian is to be a person who engages in politics but does so without fear.”
Smith acknowledges that while his own vision might seem more aggressive than many more tentative visions of Christian engagement in the political sphere, that corrective is necessary, especially when the secular political vision is totalizing: “While Christian political theologians continue to fret about the perceived threat of a Constantinian ‘takeover,’ in fact the most potent forces of hegemony and homogeneity have been progressives who are all too confident that they know the truth and thus disinclined to be tolerant of those who disagree, or to wait for them to catch up with ‘the right side of history.’ Thus pluralism is looking less and less like a liberal ideal. What if it is, in fact, religious communities that are best able to articulate why we ought to be tolerant that have the resources to cultivate tolerant citizens?”
I commend Smith’s Awaiting the King to you. My only critique is that Awaiting the King is less accessible than Desiring the Kingdom and Imagining the Kingdom. It requires a fair amount of intellectual heavy lifting. I hope that Smith, as he has done with some of his other books, puts out a slimmer, more accessible volume of this important work.
April 19, 2024
This was the most disappointing end to a series since GOT or Lost… I’m giving it 3 stars because it is intellectually sound and relies heavily on the work of other smart (though wrong lol) authors whose contributions are relevant to the field. Smith basically restates and fleshes out the work of Oliver O’Donovan. I disagree with O’Donovan and with Smith on political theology but respect their intellect and desire to do careful, nuanced work in a tradition that was either a state church (O’Donovan) or one riddled with Theonomist (Smith). While I think some of their criticisms of Hauerwas and the Anabaptists are valid, much of it doesn’t resonate.
I did appreciate Smiths work with Augustine and the city of God.
I did appreciate Smiths work with Augustine and the city of God.
June 1, 2024
Full disclosure, a substantial amount of this went over my head. I think I might need to go do some pre-reading around liturgy, Kuyperian thought and Hauerwas and then come back to this!
That said, his central idea, that all politics involves a directive stance, and that being part of the church enables us to conduct ourselves in politics knowing that we await the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, is a solid reminder of a fundamental principle. I just wish I could've engaged with the rest of his thought!
That said, his central idea, that all politics involves a directive stance, and that being part of the church enables us to conduct ourselves in politics knowing that we await the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, is a solid reminder of a fundamental principle. I just wish I could've engaged with the rest of his thought!
August 18, 2018
There were a lot of good ideas in Awaiting the King but Smith's writing style was overly academic and opaque. In that sense it was a missed opportunity; a more accessible version of his cultural liturgy series could be a very relevant book (or books) to American Christians.
May 15, 2018
Ever heard of a reviewer posting a disclaimer at the start of their review?
After reading James K.A. Smith’s AWAITING THE KING (the third volume in his Cultural Liturgies series) I feel obligated.
First, I’m not a theologian. Second, I’m not from academia. Third, I’m pretty sure I’m not within the target audience that Professor Smith had in mind when he began his ambitious project.
What motivated me to read King’s volume is a deep interest in the current political climate in the US, and the role that evangelical Christians seem to be playing in it.
Right off the bat, Smith offers a definition of political that I found extremely helpful. He writes, “The political is not synonymous with or reducible to, the realm of ‘government,’… The political is less a space and more a way of life.”
Building upon this definition, Smith goes on to say, “So a Christian account of our shared socio-economic political life might be described more properly as a ‘public’ theology – an account of how to live in common with neighbors who don’t believe what we believe, don’t love what we love, don’t hope for what we await.”
One of the major points Smith makes in AWAITING THE KING is that politics isn’t just something Christians engage in, or influence; it’s something that influences them. He puts it this way: “Governing isn’t just something you do; it does something to you.”
So, there’s a sort of cross-assimilation going on when it comes to worship and politics. Hence his admonition, “Shalom is not biblical language for progressivist social amelioration. Shalom is a Christ-haunted call to long for kingdom come.” And if the Christian church doesn’t understand this, it becomes at the beck and call of any political organization (left, right or in-between) that seeks to rubber-stamp God’s approval on its agenda.
Smith offers the example of the slave trade, and how the Church was complicit in forming the concept of whiteness; quoting Willie James Jennings (THE CHRISTIAN IMAGINATION: THEOLOGY AND THE ORGINS OF RACE): “Whiteness from the moment of discovery and consumption was a social and theological way of imagining, an imaginary that evolved into a method of understanding the world.”
Smith sums up Jennings’ point: “The church-as-polis did nothing to prevent the construal of Africans as chattel, commodifying human beings made in the image of God. The seeming magic of “the liturgy” did nothing to prevent or even temper this descent into inhumanity.” In other words, Christianity became complicit with racial prejudice by intertwining capitalism and nationalism.
Smith goes on to call this danger of the “world” being assimilated into the “church” as an example of “the Godfather problem.”
The problem is a complex one. And Smith says we need to tread carefully. “Ultimately, ecclesiology as ethnography is a set of disciplines for paying attention to the lived reality of our congregations, diagnosing our between-ness, our hybridity, but also our complicity and compromise.”
Then Smith nails it: “[M]y claim about the liturgical formation of desire (and hence identity and action) is not a claim only made about how Christian worship creates an ‘alternative polis’ or ‘contrast society.’ To the contrary, our liturgical anthropology is equally offered as a way to diagnose and make sense of our cultural assimilation to the disordered loves of consumerism, militarism, nationalism, and other performative idolatries that bend our hearts and actions toward rival ‘kingdoms.’”
Towards the end of the last chapter of AWAITING THE KING, Smith makes a succinct statement which could be taken to be the catalyst behind his Cultural Liturgies project: “When we are never invited to understand why we do what we do when we worship, then the repertoire of practices is no longer worship but something else – an ethnic identifier, a superstitious hedge, a way to consolidate social capital… Liturgical catechesis is an integral aspect of formative worship.”
Rather than leaving us with this challenge, in the conclusion of his book, Smith offers an ultimately positive take. “There is no politics that isn’t ultimately religious. And so the opportunity and opening is for the proclamation of the gospel to be offered as a radically different way to imagine politics – a rival version of faith, hope, and love that doesn’t paper over reality but discloses it. It all depends upon who you think narrates the world. What if it’s a King who loves us, laid down his life for us, and rose from the dead?”
Smith is tackling an enormously complicated subject. And he handles it well. There are footnotes on almost every single page of his book, and Smith references a multitude of theologians in his discussion, leaning heavily on St. Augustine, for one.
He takes us through a philosophical mine-field, and he earns our confidence while doing so.
After reading James K.A. Smith’s AWAITING THE KING (the third volume in his Cultural Liturgies series) I feel obligated.
First, I’m not a theologian. Second, I’m not from academia. Third, I’m pretty sure I’m not within the target audience that Professor Smith had in mind when he began his ambitious project.
What motivated me to read King’s volume is a deep interest in the current political climate in the US, and the role that evangelical Christians seem to be playing in it.
Right off the bat, Smith offers a definition of political that I found extremely helpful. He writes, “The political is not synonymous with or reducible to, the realm of ‘government,’… The political is less a space and more a way of life.”
Building upon this definition, Smith goes on to say, “So a Christian account of our shared socio-economic political life might be described more properly as a ‘public’ theology – an account of how to live in common with neighbors who don’t believe what we believe, don’t love what we love, don’t hope for what we await.”
One of the major points Smith makes in AWAITING THE KING is that politics isn’t just something Christians engage in, or influence; it’s something that influences them. He puts it this way: “Governing isn’t just something you do; it does something to you.”
So, there’s a sort of cross-assimilation going on when it comes to worship and politics. Hence his admonition, “Shalom is not biblical language for progressivist social amelioration. Shalom is a Christ-haunted call to long for kingdom come.” And if the Christian church doesn’t understand this, it becomes at the beck and call of any political organization (left, right or in-between) that seeks to rubber-stamp God’s approval on its agenda.
Smith offers the example of the slave trade, and how the Church was complicit in forming the concept of whiteness; quoting Willie James Jennings (THE CHRISTIAN IMAGINATION: THEOLOGY AND THE ORGINS OF RACE): “Whiteness from the moment of discovery and consumption was a social and theological way of imagining, an imaginary that evolved into a method of understanding the world.”
Smith sums up Jennings’ point: “The church-as-polis did nothing to prevent the construal of Africans as chattel, commodifying human beings made in the image of God. The seeming magic of “the liturgy” did nothing to prevent or even temper this descent into inhumanity.” In other words, Christianity became complicit with racial prejudice by intertwining capitalism and nationalism.
Smith goes on to call this danger of the “world” being assimilated into the “church” as an example of “the Godfather problem.”
The problem is a complex one. And Smith says we need to tread carefully. “Ultimately, ecclesiology as ethnography is a set of disciplines for paying attention to the lived reality of our congregations, diagnosing our between-ness, our hybridity, but also our complicity and compromise.”
Then Smith nails it: “[M]y claim about the liturgical formation of desire (and hence identity and action) is not a claim only made about how Christian worship creates an ‘alternative polis’ or ‘contrast society.’ To the contrary, our liturgical anthropology is equally offered as a way to diagnose and make sense of our cultural assimilation to the disordered loves of consumerism, militarism, nationalism, and other performative idolatries that bend our hearts and actions toward rival ‘kingdoms.’”
Towards the end of the last chapter of AWAITING THE KING, Smith makes a succinct statement which could be taken to be the catalyst behind his Cultural Liturgies project: “When we are never invited to understand why we do what we do when we worship, then the repertoire of practices is no longer worship but something else – an ethnic identifier, a superstitious hedge, a way to consolidate social capital… Liturgical catechesis is an integral aspect of formative worship.”
Rather than leaving us with this challenge, in the conclusion of his book, Smith offers an ultimately positive take. “There is no politics that isn’t ultimately religious. And so the opportunity and opening is for the proclamation of the gospel to be offered as a radically different way to imagine politics – a rival version of faith, hope, and love that doesn’t paper over reality but discloses it. It all depends upon who you think narrates the world. What if it’s a King who loves us, laid down his life for us, and rose from the dead?”
Smith is tackling an enormously complicated subject. And he handles it well. There are footnotes on almost every single page of his book, and Smith references a multitude of theologians in his discussion, leaning heavily on St. Augustine, for one.
He takes us through a philosophical mine-field, and he earns our confidence while doing so.
May 7, 2020
Awaiting the King brings Smith's Cultural Liturgies series to a satisfying conclusion. He helpfully reframes discussions surrounding church and state, Christianity and politics, and like dichotomies. As always, he returns to Augustine, showing a new dimension of his political theology that I'd missed until now.
Smith's whole thesis is that humans are primarily creatures of love, and that our liturgies (habits/rituals) form our loves. I really love this theological anthropology, because it is the only one I've found that has room for everyone. The "humans as thinking things" concept that I was raised with, where every problem can be solved by right thinking leading to right action, has always seemed deficient. It has no room for those with special needs, very young children, people suffering from dementia, people in comas, et c. [In my experience the communities espousing this concept do care for such people, though their philosophy is insufficient for reasoning why they care for people who cannot be packaged as "minds," and they usually turn away from this philosophy to explain why.] Understanding humans as lovers provides a comprehensive and robust theological anthropology. Love is the constant in the human experience, from the most violent places to the most sorrowful stories. To understand oneself and others as lovers is to recognize the driving forces behind all actions.
Chapter 6, "Contested Formations," was a necessary, and well-executed, answer to the problem of, "what about when liturgies don't form us properly?" Smith brilliantly calls this the "Godfather problem," turning to Francis Ford Coppola's film. No one who has seen that movie could forget the chilling ending, when Michael Corleone becomes the godfather of his sister's child, renouncing Satan and all of his works while his hit men murder his rivals. He then turns to the work of Willie James Jennings and Brian Bantum to interrogate Christianity's contesting formations expressed through racism, beginning centuries ago with the birth of the slave trade. I won't say much more--this chapter is the penultimate one of his whole project, and stands on the rest of his work in a way that is difficult to summarize. Of course, I was drawn to this chapter because of its historical focus on matters I study.
A big takeaway from Smith's work for me is asking, "what do I love?" Do I truly order my loves, beginning with God and descending into everything else? This is not a compartmentalization, or a way of "putting Christ first," a phrase I hear all the time without any concreteness. Ordered love means loving the Trinity wholly and completely, such that all other loves flow from this primary love. How is my life, my sleeping and waking, ordered by this love? It's a question to ask of oneself, but once we live this question (as Rilke would have it), it becomes a way of interpreting the world.
Recently, I considered this question in light of someone--what orders his love?--because it is easy to see what people truly love by their actions. At first, I considered that his love is wealth, fame, power. But then the answer was clear: himself. He loves himself first and foremost, and his desires are ordered by his pride. I do not say this in judgment, but as a way to understand this person, and as a way to understand myself, because I am also driven to love myself before anything else. Love of self, Smith argues, is the default setting for humans (huzzah, I'm not the only one). Love of the Triune God, then, is kenotic, but also a replenishment by Holy Wisdom, the God-who-is-Love, the Comforter, the Merciful Judge. Rightly ordered love is self-sacrificial and self-denying, but it is not self-hatred or self-apathy, but is a properly ordered love of self, recognizing that life flourishes in the garden of the Lord.
I'm looking at this on a micro scale, but Smith's work has many macro implications that I am (and he is) still weighing. I expect that On the Road with Saint Augustine addresses issues he raised here, that were not addressed in You Are What You Love, which was published before Awaiting the King. I look forward to continuing to follow Smith's project in the coming years, and to keep interrogating myself and others about becoming what we love.
Smith's whole thesis is that humans are primarily creatures of love, and that our liturgies (habits/rituals) form our loves. I really love this theological anthropology, because it is the only one I've found that has room for everyone. The "humans as thinking things" concept that I was raised with, where every problem can be solved by right thinking leading to right action, has always seemed deficient. It has no room for those with special needs, very young children, people suffering from dementia, people in comas, et c. [In my experience the communities espousing this concept do care for such people, though their philosophy is insufficient for reasoning why they care for people who cannot be packaged as "minds," and they usually turn away from this philosophy to explain why.] Understanding humans as lovers provides a comprehensive and robust theological anthropology. Love is the constant in the human experience, from the most violent places to the most sorrowful stories. To understand oneself and others as lovers is to recognize the driving forces behind all actions.
Chapter 6, "Contested Formations," was a necessary, and well-executed, answer to the problem of, "what about when liturgies don't form us properly?" Smith brilliantly calls this the "Godfather problem," turning to Francis Ford Coppola's film. No one who has seen that movie could forget the chilling ending, when Michael Corleone becomes the godfather of his sister's child, renouncing Satan and all of his works while his hit men murder his rivals. He then turns to the work of Willie James Jennings and Brian Bantum to interrogate Christianity's contesting formations expressed through racism, beginning centuries ago with the birth of the slave trade. I won't say much more--this chapter is the penultimate one of his whole project, and stands on the rest of his work in a way that is difficult to summarize. Of course, I was drawn to this chapter because of its historical focus on matters I study.
A big takeaway from Smith's work for me is asking, "what do I love?" Do I truly order my loves, beginning with God and descending into everything else? This is not a compartmentalization, or a way of "putting Christ first," a phrase I hear all the time without any concreteness. Ordered love means loving the Trinity wholly and completely, such that all other loves flow from this primary love. How is my life, my sleeping and waking, ordered by this love? It's a question to ask of oneself, but once we live this question (as Rilke would have it), it becomes a way of interpreting the world.
Recently, I considered this question in light of someone--what orders his love?--because it is easy to see what people truly love by their actions. At first, I considered that his love is wealth, fame, power. But then the answer was clear: himself. He loves himself first and foremost, and his desires are ordered by his pride. I do not say this in judgment, but as a way to understand this person, and as a way to understand myself, because I am also driven to love myself before anything else. Love of self, Smith argues, is the default setting for humans (huzzah, I'm not the only one). Love of the Triune God, then, is kenotic, but also a replenishment by Holy Wisdom, the God-who-is-Love, the Comforter, the Merciful Judge. Rightly ordered love is self-sacrificial and self-denying, but it is not self-hatred or self-apathy, but is a properly ordered love of self, recognizing that life flourishes in the garden of the Lord.
I'm looking at this on a micro scale, but Smith's work has many macro implications that I am (and he is) still weighing. I expect that On the Road with Saint Augustine addresses issues he raised here, that were not addressed in You Are What You Love, which was published before Awaiting the King. I look forward to continuing to follow Smith's project in the coming years, and to keep interrogating myself and others about becoming what we love.
February 11, 2018
In James K.A. Smith's 3-volume series "Cultural Liturgies," he has argued that all human beings (not just the religious) are religious. All humans have a notion of the "good life" and engage in "worship" and "liturgical practices" to get to that telos. Though the Reformation and Enlightenment taught that we are creatures of reason, we are actually creatures of desire. Since we are creatures of desire, our own desires are shaped and molded by systems with their own liturgical practices: consumerism, entertainment, sports, the military, etc. In Awaiting the King, Smith specifically focuses on how the political world attempts to shape our desires through its "liturgies." How should a faithful Christian live in the "City of Man" (to use Augustine's terminology)? Should Christians engage in a culture war and revive Christendom? Are Christians to flee from the City of Man and solely focus on the City of God? Can a Christian participate in politics without "taking over"? Should Christians separate their religious beliefs from their political beliefs? These are all questions Smith tries to answer using Augustine's City of God as his guide.
I will wholly confess that I did not understand 100% of this book (as is true with all of the Cultural Liturgies Project) but here are some thoughts that I had and some things that stood out to me from the book:
- It is impossible to separate the religious life and the political life. The two things refuse to stay in their own spheres. The prevailing notion is that while we can't agree on the ultimate things, we can agree on the penultimate things. However, Smith shows that penultimate things lead to ultimate things. Therefore, we can't (won't?) simply agree on penultimate things.
- Politics/government promote religious-like worship. Smith recounts David Foster Wallace's take on patriotism in sporting events. He also points out the religious nature of the National Mall.
- "Shalom is not biblical language for progressivist social amelioration. Shalom is a Christ-haunted call to long for kingdom come."
- Most modern liberals champion the Enlightenment and blame Christianity for all of the horrors from Constantine onward. Smith argues that this is a lazy reading of history. He suggests that many hallmark elements of liberal democracy come from Christianity (for example, freedom of speech and the idea that "penitentiaries" are places for reform). I would like to look further into these ideas.
- Smith argues that one of the problems of atheism is that there is no community where they can gather and form their values. He argues that the church can show liberal democracy how to use communities to shape values that shape a culture.
- Smith gives an interesting account of Augustine's relationship with an African ruler named Boniface. Augustine acts as pastor-theologian and counsels Boniface on how to rule for the public good. However, Augustine also rebukes Boniface when he begins to be shaped by his political aspiration and desires. Smith sees this as a model for the church.
I will wholly confess that I did not understand 100% of this book (as is true with all of the Cultural Liturgies Project) but here are some thoughts that I had and some things that stood out to me from the book:
- It is impossible to separate the religious life and the political life. The two things refuse to stay in their own spheres. The prevailing notion is that while we can't agree on the ultimate things, we can agree on the penultimate things. However, Smith shows that penultimate things lead to ultimate things. Therefore, we can't (won't?) simply agree on penultimate things.
- Politics/government promote religious-like worship. Smith recounts David Foster Wallace's take on patriotism in sporting events. He also points out the religious nature of the National Mall.
- "Shalom is not biblical language for progressivist social amelioration. Shalom is a Christ-haunted call to long for kingdom come."
- Most modern liberals champion the Enlightenment and blame Christianity for all of the horrors from Constantine onward. Smith argues that this is a lazy reading of history. He suggests that many hallmark elements of liberal democracy come from Christianity (for example, freedom of speech and the idea that "penitentiaries" are places for reform). I would like to look further into these ideas.
- Smith argues that one of the problems of atheism is that there is no community where they can gather and form their values. He argues that the church can show liberal democracy how to use communities to shape values that shape a culture.
- Smith gives an interesting account of Augustine's relationship with an African ruler named Boniface. Augustine acts as pastor-theologian and counsels Boniface on how to rule for the public good. However, Augustine also rebukes Boniface when he begins to be shaped by his political aspiration and desires. Smith sees this as a model for the church.
December 7, 2017
Preachers are often cautioned to steer clear of politics, and yet the biblical story is very political. Jesus himself was executed as political figure. The Romans didn't care about intricacies of Jewish theology, but they did pay attention to claims of being a king. So, Pilate had him executed. The prophets of Israel often stepped on the toes of the political establishment. So it goes. Politics and religion have long been connected, even if the relationship is often tenuous. This leads us to the point of "Awaiting the King," the third volume of James K. A. Smith's Cultural Liturgies project. It is, as the subtitle claims, an attempt to reform public theology (by public he means more than simply the state).
I approached this book with a degree of eagerness. For one thing, I am very interested in public theology (having written a book titled Faith in the Public Square and having been actively engaged in public life as a pastor. Although I hadn't read the first two volumes in this series, I had read his book "You Are What You Love," which is a more popular version of the earlier volumes. The point of that book, which I read and enjoyed, was this -- we are what we worship. That is, liturgies form us, whether they're Christian or secular (thus the liturgies of the mall or sports have an important formational effect on us.) Having completed the book, I'm not sure what to make of it. In large part this has to do with my own spiritual/theological inclinations. I'm not evangelical in the current sense of the word, nor am I Reformed in the way that Smith is?
What caught my interest in this book was Smith's response to the Hauerwasian "church as polis" perspective on political theology. He does respond, calling into question that project that suggests that the church should be an alternative polis, with the focus on building the community as a witness, but not necessarily participating fully in public life. While I'm not a Hauerwasian, neither am I a Kuyperian. In fact, I'm more a Niebuhrian in my political theology.
There is much to like in the book, but there are parts that I found less than helpful. I appreciate the emphasis on worship forming us as people of God, who can enter the world and be change agents. Like Smith I'm cautious about the relationship of church and state, and with him affirm that there "liturgies" related to the state that can form us in ways contrary to the Gospel. I appreciate the conversation about the "military-entertainment complex" that has so captivated us as a people. At the same time Smith has a higher view of Christendom than do I (though I do think some of the critique of Christendom is overblown). There is something about being a "resident alien" who is invested in the state that is appealing, I at times found myself uncomfortable with his understanding of the relationship of church and state. That is, he seems to envision a return to power on the part of Christians that I'm not as comfortable with. But such is his reading of Augustine's City of God and the political philosophy of Oliver O'Donovan.
Part of my problem is of my own making. I've read O'Donovan, so I'm at loss there. Neither am I all that acquainted with Abraham Kuyper, other than knowing that he was an important political figure who sought to bring faith and politics together in a way that has influenced Reformed political theology in the United States.
So, he begins in chapter one exploring the notion of liturgy and worship in relationship to democracy. Then in chapters 2 through 4, he gets to the heart of the issue, that is understanding what it means for the church to exist in a political context. He addresses the question of the church as polis, and then moves into a discussion of the influence of Christianity on liberal democracy. He suggests that are many ways in which the church has influenced the development of democracy. Thus, it is appropriate to engage. It is here in chapter three, as he begins to engage with Oliver O'Donovan, that I became uneasy. There is a strong inclination here toward affirming the priority of law and order. I'm not against law and order, but I'm more open to the need for revolution on occasion (I didn't know that the name of Kuyper's party in Holland was the "Anti-Revolutionary Party."). There is in this proposal a certain conservativeness that doesn't resonate with me. This is seen in an extended conversation about "school choice," which Smith seems to endorse, and which Betsy DeVos, the current Secretary of Education is seeking to install nationally. DeVos comes out of this Kuyperian milieu, which gave me pause. The chapter that follows, on pluralism, also gave me pause, because Smith appears to me to be suggesting that we should embrace a "Christian Diversity State." There is room for pluralism in the land, but one granted by Christians. I'm not sure this works out well in practice. In any case, these are questions we need to wrestle with in this time and place where religion and politics are increasingly intermingling, not always with good effect.
Chapter five raises questions about natural that are worth exploring, but more imporant is chapter six, which is subtitled "Our 'Godfather' Problem." The point of this very important chapter, in which Smith engages in conversation with Willie James Jennings, an African American theologian who is a graduate of both Calvin College and Fuller Seminary (we overlapped briefly). The focus of the chapter is addressing the reality that Christian liturgy has too often failed to form us into good citizens. That is, one can worship and still be a racist. Thus, the point of the Godfather films, which the Godfather participates in religious ritual, but then engages in criminal behavior. There seems to be a disconnect. Smith understands this dilemma because it challenges his premise that liturgy forms us. So the question is, why do we see malformed persons engaging in worship, but living contrary to the Gospel. In this chapter he invites pastors to become ethnographers who examine the culture and its liturgies, so as to be better prepared to respond. He suggests that "part of the pastor-theologian's political work is to enable the people of God to 'read' the practices of the regnant polis, to exegete the liturgies of the earthly city n which they are immersed." (p. 195). This is good advice, though it is dangerous, for we have too often merged cities in such a way that the faith side gets submerged. By helping cultivate heavenly citizens, resident aliens, who can engage in public life in ways that are just and right is good, but not easy.
So what do I do with this book? I'm not sure. There is much to engage with, but elements I'm uncomfortable with. While I acknowledge that Niebuhr lacked a strong ecclesiology, I wish Smith had engaged him so as to see how that might work.
I approached this book with a degree of eagerness. For one thing, I am very interested in public theology (having written a book titled Faith in the Public Square and having been actively engaged in public life as a pastor. Although I hadn't read the first two volumes in this series, I had read his book "You Are What You Love," which is a more popular version of the earlier volumes. The point of that book, which I read and enjoyed, was this -- we are what we worship. That is, liturgies form us, whether they're Christian or secular (thus the liturgies of the mall or sports have an important formational effect on us.) Having completed the book, I'm not sure what to make of it. In large part this has to do with my own spiritual/theological inclinations. I'm not evangelical in the current sense of the word, nor am I Reformed in the way that Smith is?
What caught my interest in this book was Smith's response to the Hauerwasian "church as polis" perspective on political theology. He does respond, calling into question that project that suggests that the church should be an alternative polis, with the focus on building the community as a witness, but not necessarily participating fully in public life. While I'm not a Hauerwasian, neither am I a Kuyperian. In fact, I'm more a Niebuhrian in my political theology.
There is much to like in the book, but there are parts that I found less than helpful. I appreciate the emphasis on worship forming us as people of God, who can enter the world and be change agents. Like Smith I'm cautious about the relationship of church and state, and with him affirm that there "liturgies" related to the state that can form us in ways contrary to the Gospel. I appreciate the conversation about the "military-entertainment complex" that has so captivated us as a people. At the same time Smith has a higher view of Christendom than do I (though I do think some of the critique of Christendom is overblown). There is something about being a "resident alien" who is invested in the state that is appealing, I at times found myself uncomfortable with his understanding of the relationship of church and state. That is, he seems to envision a return to power on the part of Christians that I'm not as comfortable with. But such is his reading of Augustine's City of God and the political philosophy of Oliver O'Donovan.
Part of my problem is of my own making. I've read O'Donovan, so I'm at loss there. Neither am I all that acquainted with Abraham Kuyper, other than knowing that he was an important political figure who sought to bring faith and politics together in a way that has influenced Reformed political theology in the United States.
So, he begins in chapter one exploring the notion of liturgy and worship in relationship to democracy. Then in chapters 2 through 4, he gets to the heart of the issue, that is understanding what it means for the church to exist in a political context. He addresses the question of the church as polis, and then moves into a discussion of the influence of Christianity on liberal democracy. He suggests that are many ways in which the church has influenced the development of democracy. Thus, it is appropriate to engage. It is here in chapter three, as he begins to engage with Oliver O'Donovan, that I became uneasy. There is a strong inclination here toward affirming the priority of law and order. I'm not against law and order, but I'm more open to the need for revolution on occasion (I didn't know that the name of Kuyper's party in Holland was the "Anti-Revolutionary Party."). There is in this proposal a certain conservativeness that doesn't resonate with me. This is seen in an extended conversation about "school choice," which Smith seems to endorse, and which Betsy DeVos, the current Secretary of Education is seeking to install nationally. DeVos comes out of this Kuyperian milieu, which gave me pause. The chapter that follows, on pluralism, also gave me pause, because Smith appears to me to be suggesting that we should embrace a "Christian Diversity State." There is room for pluralism in the land, but one granted by Christians. I'm not sure this works out well in practice. In any case, these are questions we need to wrestle with in this time and place where religion and politics are increasingly intermingling, not always with good effect.
Chapter five raises questions about natural that are worth exploring, but more imporant is chapter six, which is subtitled "Our 'Godfather' Problem." The point of this very important chapter, in which Smith engages in conversation with Willie James Jennings, an African American theologian who is a graduate of both Calvin College and Fuller Seminary (we overlapped briefly). The focus of the chapter is addressing the reality that Christian liturgy has too often failed to form us into good citizens. That is, one can worship and still be a racist. Thus, the point of the Godfather films, which the Godfather participates in religious ritual, but then engages in criminal behavior. There seems to be a disconnect. Smith understands this dilemma because it challenges his premise that liturgy forms us. So the question is, why do we see malformed persons engaging in worship, but living contrary to the Gospel. In this chapter he invites pastors to become ethnographers who examine the culture and its liturgies, so as to be better prepared to respond. He suggests that "part of the pastor-theologian's political work is to enable the people of God to 'read' the practices of the regnant polis, to exegete the liturgies of the earthly city n which they are immersed." (p. 195). This is good advice, though it is dangerous, for we have too often merged cities in such a way that the faith side gets submerged. By helping cultivate heavenly citizens, resident aliens, who can engage in public life in ways that are just and right is good, but not easy.
So what do I do with this book? I'm not sure. There is much to engage with, but elements I'm uncomfortable with. While I acknowledge that Niebuhr lacked a strong ecclesiology, I wish Smith had engaged him so as to see how that might work.
November 4, 2017
Smith is a scholar for whom I have great respect. I have not had the chance to read the first two volumes of the Cultural Liturgies series, but I am planning on it. "Awaiting the King" is a volume that can stand on its own, especially if you have read some of Smith's other work. "You Are What You Love" remains one of my favorite books, and serves as a nice appetizer for "Awaiting the King."
In this newest volume, Smith examines the idea of public theology. To do so, he engages in significant conversation with many texts and authors, but most extensively with Oliver O' Donovan and Augustine's "City of God." With the appropriates caveats of "I am not a scholar" and "Remember, I have not spent much time with the previous volumes of this series" in place, I will share a bit of what I took away from the text. First, Smith is fun to read. He interacts with complex ideas but is able to convey them in a manner that is both approachable and enjoyable.
Smith describes how our nation's democratic structure rests on ritual and worship. He is not making a "The U.S. is a Christian nation" argument. Rather, he is making the argument that our democracy is structured around worship. He continues by examining the "Church as Polis" and what it should look like for Christians and the church to faithfully engage the world in which they exist.
Smith highlights how political life is not to be separated from the rest of life, all of life is political. Options of life that suggest wholesale assimilation or total abandonment of the culture are both wrong. He also shows how politics is not a sphere solely comprised of common grace issues, the death and resurrection of Christ is of the utmost political importance. He revisits the formative power of liturgy and addresses how to account for "the Godfather Problem" in Christianity.
From his particular Reformed tradition, Smith has an interesting take on the renewed embrace of certain Kuyperian ideals. He seems to be concerned that pendulum for many Evangelicals has swung from the Fundamentalist "I'll Fly Away" anti-creation perspective to an over-realized Kuyperianism that has lost its eschatological and alien hope. Nature is neither bad nor all, and it is important to keep this balance in mind.
Suffice it to say; there is much more in the book. And it is better structured and more connected than I am sure that I am representing it to be. The key takeaway from my thoughts should be, go and read the book. "Awaiting the King" is thought-provoking, challenging, and entertaining, and it warrants more than one trip through.
ARC provided.
In this newest volume, Smith examines the idea of public theology. To do so, he engages in significant conversation with many texts and authors, but most extensively with Oliver O' Donovan and Augustine's "City of God." With the appropriates caveats of "I am not a scholar" and "Remember, I have not spent much time with the previous volumes of this series" in place, I will share a bit of what I took away from the text. First, Smith is fun to read. He interacts with complex ideas but is able to convey them in a manner that is both approachable and enjoyable.
Smith describes how our nation's democratic structure rests on ritual and worship. He is not making a "The U.S. is a Christian nation" argument. Rather, he is making the argument that our democracy is structured around worship. He continues by examining the "Church as Polis" and what it should look like for Christians and the church to faithfully engage the world in which they exist.
Smith highlights how political life is not to be separated from the rest of life, all of life is political. Options of life that suggest wholesale assimilation or total abandonment of the culture are both wrong. He also shows how politics is not a sphere solely comprised of common grace issues, the death and resurrection of Christ is of the utmost political importance. He revisits the formative power of liturgy and addresses how to account for "the Godfather Problem" in Christianity.
From his particular Reformed tradition, Smith has an interesting take on the renewed embrace of certain Kuyperian ideals. He seems to be concerned that pendulum for many Evangelicals has swung from the Fundamentalist "I'll Fly Away" anti-creation perspective to an over-realized Kuyperianism that has lost its eschatological and alien hope. Nature is neither bad nor all, and it is important to keep this balance in mind.
Suffice it to say; there is much more in the book. And it is better structured and more connected than I am sure that I am representing it to be. The key takeaway from my thoughts should be, go and read the book. "Awaiting the King" is thought-provoking, challenging, and entertaining, and it warrants more than one trip through.
ARC provided.
October 8, 2022
Read this for a Political Theology course, and unfortunately I have not read the first two. It's not imperative, yet I think it may have been a helpful base. I've read enough of Smith to feel comfortable, as he makes many of the same arguments in other works.
This book is dense, particularly the first couple of chapters. I was really only able to read it productively during moments of full attention, particularly because of the number of footnotes (which are worth reading). Smith takes a 200 page book and packs much, much more into it.
Ultimately, I think I disagree with some of his optimism toward the ability of public reform. He might be a bit too Kuyperian for me. However, he is brilliant in his exegesis of O'Donovan and Augustine (particularly toward the end of the book).
This book is dense, particularly the first couple of chapters. I was really only able to read it productively during moments of full attention, particularly because of the number of footnotes (which are worth reading). Smith takes a 200 page book and packs much, much more into it.
Ultimately, I think I disagree with some of his optimism toward the ability of public reform. He might be a bit too Kuyperian for me. However, he is brilliant in his exegesis of O'Donovan and Augustine (particularly toward the end of the book).
January 1, 2018
I love Smith, and I loved this book. I wrestle with so many of the things that Smith talks about in this book, related to politics, political action, the role of faith, cynicism, doubt, skepticism and hope. I think chapters 3 and 4 provided some tough sledding through O'Donovan and his thought, but I think the work was worth it. Chapters 1, 2 and 6 were money all the way through. An important book!
February 26, 2019
I think this book is deep, nuanced, and very interesting. I do wish it were more readable and accessible. Perhaps Smith will provide a “You Are What You Love” political edition, simplified for the somewhat educated among us. That would have been more helpful to myself and my fellow elders at church.
December 27, 2019
A refreshing thinker and a brilliant writer! His thinking in the Cultural Liturgies series is well presented. However, I found the books in the series quite redundant. He does, however, build on his thinking on each of the books that keeps the reader engaged even when I find myself not fully agreeing.
February 20, 2022
I have mixed feelings about this book. It is not my favorite of the trilogy. At times, it seems he is trying way to hard to be super original, and in doing that, his arguments become a bit capricious. However, the book’s overall argument -sans the author’s particular ideological bent- is quite challenging and worthy of consideration.
November 23, 2018
Probably 3.5 stars.
September 27, 2022
Amazing!
March 7, 2023
There are so many beautiful and complex ideas and theories in this book... but wow... that has got to be the hardest book to understand that I have ever read. I am glad it was a textbook and our prof took time to explain it because I could not make heads or tails of it reading alone. There has got to be a simpler way to discuss the ideas presented because they are great and worth interacting with
December 31, 2018
Incredible conclusion to an amazing series. Smith’s call to engage in the life of the earthly city with hope instead of fear, faith instead of empiricism, and love instead of posturing are wise words for all Christians. We do not build the kingdom, we patiently await the coming of our victorious King.
November 13, 2017
In this final installment of the heralded Cultural Liturgies trilogy, James K.A. Smith invites us to reexamine the way we approach politics – and, even more, the ways politics "disciple" us. Continuing his ongoing engagement with Augustine, Smith argues that we are liturgical creatures, shaped for better and worse by rites both within and outside the church. For those of us who are persuaded of "the good of politics" but recognize all the ways governments and citizens fall short in this time between the times, Awaiting the King is the book we have been waiting for.
I received an ARC of this book. Full review to come.
I received an ARC of this book. Full review to come.
July 23, 2019
In de eredienst gevormd voor de samenleving
Wat is de plek van christenen in de samenleving? Dat is een vraag die christenen al vanaf de 19e eeuw bezig houdt, toen niet meer het christendom, maar het liberalisme de bepalende factor in de maatschappij werd en de bestuursvorm democratie werd. De vraag werd nog acuter in de afgelopen decennia door de opkomende secularisatie en de toenemende marginalisering van de kerk.
Moet je je als christen afzijdig houden? Moet je je plek bevechten om de maatschappij om de negatieve gevolgen van de seculiere maatschappij tegen te gaan? Moet je daarvoor de politiek gebruiken? Moet je als christen juist positief in deze maatschappij staan? Voor veel christenen is het een zoektocht.
Neocalvinisme
In het werk van de van oorsprong Canadese filosoof James K.A. Smith is die zoektocht te zien. Hij groeide op in een piëtistische gemeenschap, die meer afzijdig stond van de maatschappij. Tijdens het studeren ontdekte hij dat de neocalvinistische traditie, waarin hij opgegroeid was, met Kuyper en Bavinck juist een maatschappelijke betrokkenheid van christenen wilde stimuleren.
Hauerwas
Nadat hij kennis maakte met de kritische visie van Stanley Hauerwas ontdekte hij dat zijn neocalvinistische traditie wel heel optimistisch en naïef was in hun houding naar de cultuur toe. Hauerwas is van mening dat de kerk een contrastsamenleving moet vormen vanuit het evangelie. De gelovige leeft wel in deze wereld, maar kan niet volop meedoen, omdat veel facetten in de maatschappij, en zeker in de politiek, botsen met de normen van het evangelie. In een tijd waarin veel evangelicale christenen zich in de VS verbonden aan de conservatieve stroming binnen de Republikeinse partij werd Hauerwas als kritische stem belangrijker.
Smith wilde een boek schrijven waarin hij wilde aangeven hoe zijn eigen neocalvinstische traditie, die optimistisch is over de rol van christenen in de samenleving, gecorrigeerd diende te worden vanuit de gedachten van Hauerwas. Hauerwas heeft er geen bezwaar tegen als christenen in de samenleving actief zijn. Hij wil vooral de kerk a-politiek houden. Wanneer de kerk in aanraking komt met politiek komt er een conflict met de normen van het evangelie.
Toch kon Smith het bij Hauerwas niet helemaal vinden. Smith vond dat Hauerwas, ondanks dat hij pleit voor gelovigen die een contrastsamenleving vormen, geen werkbare visie op de kerk in deze samenleving heeft.
O’Donovan
Bovendien leerde door de Britse theoloog Oliver O’Donovan kennen. O’Donovan is, op basis van zijn studie van Augustinus, veel positiever over de huidige samenleving. Op allerlei manieren wordt onze moderne samenleving nog gestempeld door het christendom. Al willen velen dat niet meer zien, de christelijke wortels blijven onmiskenbaar.
Door O’Donovan leert Smith Augustinus waarderen. Augustinus helpt Smith bij een visie die christenen niet stimuleert om zich terug te trekken van de samenleving en de politiek en zich alleen op de kerk te richten en de samenleving en de politiek alleen aan niet-christenen over te laten. Augustinus beschrijft in zijn boek De stad van God twee steden: een aardse en een hemelse stad. In de visie van Augustinus gaat het om twee samenlevingen, die tegenovergesteld van elkaar zijn en botsen. Het luistert wel nauw hoe deze visie van Augustinus wordt weergegeven.
Nogal eens wordt de visie van Augustinus zo weergegeven dat de stad van God niet van deze wereld is en dat christenen zich daarom niet met de maatschappij en zeker niet met de politiek moeten inlaten. Dat is echter niet wat Augustinus beoogde, volgens Smith. Het gaat om twee botsende visies over hoe een samenleving moet worden ingericht, over wat van burgers verwacht mag worden en wat toekomstige burgers in hun onderwijs en vorming moeten meekrijgen. Deze twee visies concurreren, omdat ze allebei een andere godsdienstige achtergrond hebben, die doorwerkt in de normen voor burgers en de normen voor onderwijs en vorming.
Liberale democratie
Ook al is onze liberale democratie seculier geworden, ze heeft wel een visie op wat van burgers verwacht mag worden en wat voor burgers nodig is. Net als het christendom heeft de liberale democratie daar rituelen voor om burgers te beïnvloeden met die visie en die normen. Daardoor zijn in zekere zin liberale democratie en christendom als concurrenten, omdat de liberale democratie de liberale normen en waarden wil meegeven. Die liberale normen en waarden komen niet altijd overeen met christelijke normen en waarden. De liberale democratie heeft daarom steeds moeite om het onderwijs en de vorming door de christelijke traditie.
Het christendom, en zeker de neocalvinistische traditie, is volgens Smith meer dan de liberale democratie in staat om ruimte te bieden aan andersdenkenden. Het neocalvinisme is ook opgekomen als een beweging die binnen de eenvormigheid van de liberale democratie de eigen stem te laten klinken.
Kritiekloos
Het zwakke punt van het neocalvinisme was, volgens hem, dat men tevreden was als men een plek aan tafel had gekregen. Had men eenmaal een plek aan tafel gekregen, dan liet men het specifieke christelijke geluid achterwege, omdat men teveel onder de indruk was van de seculiere wereld en accepteerde men die kritiekloos. Begonnen als een beweging om het specifiek christelijke geluid te laten horen, eindigde het als een beweging die Christus onbedoeld buiten de politiek hield.
Eigen geluid
Volgens Smith doet de overheid er in een liberale democratie er goed aan om verschillende godsdiensten en levensbeschouwingen de ruimte geven dat eigen geluid te laten horen. Juist ten dienste van de democratie en de samenleving. Godsdienstige stromingen zijn beter dan het liberalisme in staat om de diversiteit van de multiculturele samenleving recht te doen en zijn beter in staat om tolerantie te waarborgen dan het liberalisme, is de mening van Smith.
De rol van de kerk
De rol van de kerk is om de christenen te vormen voor hun taak in de samenleving. Dat gebeurt onder andere in de eredienst. Die vorming is wel kritisch, omdat in de eredienst de christen belijdt dat Christus Koning is. De christen kijkt uit naar de wederkomst van die Koning. Zolang die Koning nog niet gearriveerd is, is elke samenleving voorlopig en geen enkele regeringsvorm of politiek perfect. Vanuit die relativering van het politieke kan de christen een constructieve bijdrage leveren aan samenleving en politiek.
Correctie van het neocalvinisme
Dat de taak van de kerk is om christenen te vormen ziet Smith als zijn eigen correctie op het neocalvinisme. In de strijd voor de eigen plek in de samenleving vergaten neocalvinisten dat het wezenlijk is hoe de christenen zich in de samenleving gedragen. De kerk is er om christenen te vormen als christenen, met christelijke deugden. Om zo als christen gevormd de plek in te nemen.
Wat is de plek van christenen in de samenleving? Dat is een vraag die christenen al vanaf de 19e eeuw bezig houdt, toen niet meer het christendom, maar het liberalisme de bepalende factor in de maatschappij werd en de bestuursvorm democratie werd. De vraag werd nog acuter in de afgelopen decennia door de opkomende secularisatie en de toenemende marginalisering van de kerk.
Moet je je als christen afzijdig houden? Moet je je plek bevechten om de maatschappij om de negatieve gevolgen van de seculiere maatschappij tegen te gaan? Moet je daarvoor de politiek gebruiken? Moet je als christen juist positief in deze maatschappij staan? Voor veel christenen is het een zoektocht.
Neocalvinisme
In het werk van de van oorsprong Canadese filosoof James K.A. Smith is die zoektocht te zien. Hij groeide op in een piëtistische gemeenschap, die meer afzijdig stond van de maatschappij. Tijdens het studeren ontdekte hij dat de neocalvinistische traditie, waarin hij opgegroeid was, met Kuyper en Bavinck juist een maatschappelijke betrokkenheid van christenen wilde stimuleren.
Hauerwas
Nadat hij kennis maakte met de kritische visie van Stanley Hauerwas ontdekte hij dat zijn neocalvinistische traditie wel heel optimistisch en naïef was in hun houding naar de cultuur toe. Hauerwas is van mening dat de kerk een contrastsamenleving moet vormen vanuit het evangelie. De gelovige leeft wel in deze wereld, maar kan niet volop meedoen, omdat veel facetten in de maatschappij, en zeker in de politiek, botsen met de normen van het evangelie. In een tijd waarin veel evangelicale christenen zich in de VS verbonden aan de conservatieve stroming binnen de Republikeinse partij werd Hauerwas als kritische stem belangrijker.
Smith wilde een boek schrijven waarin hij wilde aangeven hoe zijn eigen neocalvinstische traditie, die optimistisch is over de rol van christenen in de samenleving, gecorrigeerd diende te worden vanuit de gedachten van Hauerwas. Hauerwas heeft er geen bezwaar tegen als christenen in de samenleving actief zijn. Hij wil vooral de kerk a-politiek houden. Wanneer de kerk in aanraking komt met politiek komt er een conflict met de normen van het evangelie.
Toch kon Smith het bij Hauerwas niet helemaal vinden. Smith vond dat Hauerwas, ondanks dat hij pleit voor gelovigen die een contrastsamenleving vormen, geen werkbare visie op de kerk in deze samenleving heeft.
O’Donovan
Bovendien leerde door de Britse theoloog Oliver O’Donovan kennen. O’Donovan is, op basis van zijn studie van Augustinus, veel positiever over de huidige samenleving. Op allerlei manieren wordt onze moderne samenleving nog gestempeld door het christendom. Al willen velen dat niet meer zien, de christelijke wortels blijven onmiskenbaar.
Door O’Donovan leert Smith Augustinus waarderen. Augustinus helpt Smith bij een visie die christenen niet stimuleert om zich terug te trekken van de samenleving en de politiek en zich alleen op de kerk te richten en de samenleving en de politiek alleen aan niet-christenen over te laten. Augustinus beschrijft in zijn boek De stad van God twee steden: een aardse en een hemelse stad. In de visie van Augustinus gaat het om twee samenlevingen, die tegenovergesteld van elkaar zijn en botsen. Het luistert wel nauw hoe deze visie van Augustinus wordt weergegeven.
Nogal eens wordt de visie van Augustinus zo weergegeven dat de stad van God niet van deze wereld is en dat christenen zich daarom niet met de maatschappij en zeker niet met de politiek moeten inlaten. Dat is echter niet wat Augustinus beoogde, volgens Smith. Het gaat om twee botsende visies over hoe een samenleving moet worden ingericht, over wat van burgers verwacht mag worden en wat toekomstige burgers in hun onderwijs en vorming moeten meekrijgen. Deze twee visies concurreren, omdat ze allebei een andere godsdienstige achtergrond hebben, die doorwerkt in de normen voor burgers en de normen voor onderwijs en vorming.
Liberale democratie
Ook al is onze liberale democratie seculier geworden, ze heeft wel een visie op wat van burgers verwacht mag worden en wat voor burgers nodig is. Net als het christendom heeft de liberale democratie daar rituelen voor om burgers te beïnvloeden met die visie en die normen. Daardoor zijn in zekere zin liberale democratie en christendom als concurrenten, omdat de liberale democratie de liberale normen en waarden wil meegeven. Die liberale normen en waarden komen niet altijd overeen met christelijke normen en waarden. De liberale democratie heeft daarom steeds moeite om het onderwijs en de vorming door de christelijke traditie.
Het christendom, en zeker de neocalvinistische traditie, is volgens Smith meer dan de liberale democratie in staat om ruimte te bieden aan andersdenkenden. Het neocalvinisme is ook opgekomen als een beweging die binnen de eenvormigheid van de liberale democratie de eigen stem te laten klinken.
Kritiekloos
Het zwakke punt van het neocalvinisme was, volgens hem, dat men tevreden was als men een plek aan tafel had gekregen. Had men eenmaal een plek aan tafel gekregen, dan liet men het specifieke christelijke geluid achterwege, omdat men teveel onder de indruk was van de seculiere wereld en accepteerde men die kritiekloos. Begonnen als een beweging om het specifiek christelijke geluid te laten horen, eindigde het als een beweging die Christus onbedoeld buiten de politiek hield.
Eigen geluid
Volgens Smith doet de overheid er in een liberale democratie er goed aan om verschillende godsdiensten en levensbeschouwingen de ruimte geven dat eigen geluid te laten horen. Juist ten dienste van de democratie en de samenleving. Godsdienstige stromingen zijn beter dan het liberalisme in staat om de diversiteit van de multiculturele samenleving recht te doen en zijn beter in staat om tolerantie te waarborgen dan het liberalisme, is de mening van Smith.
De rol van de kerk
De rol van de kerk is om de christenen te vormen voor hun taak in de samenleving. Dat gebeurt onder andere in de eredienst. Die vorming is wel kritisch, omdat in de eredienst de christen belijdt dat Christus Koning is. De christen kijkt uit naar de wederkomst van die Koning. Zolang die Koning nog niet gearriveerd is, is elke samenleving voorlopig en geen enkele regeringsvorm of politiek perfect. Vanuit die relativering van het politieke kan de christen een constructieve bijdrage leveren aan samenleving en politiek.
Correctie van het neocalvinisme
Dat de taak van de kerk is om christenen te vormen ziet Smith als zijn eigen correctie op het neocalvinisme. In de strijd voor de eigen plek in de samenleving vergaten neocalvinisten dat het wezenlijk is hoe de christenen zich in de samenleving gedragen. De kerk is er om christenen te vormen als christenen, met christelijke deugden. Om zo als christen gevormd de plek in te nemen.
June 15, 2020
4 stars
Trying to gain an understanding of political theology– how are we to think politically as Christians.
Smith's proposal for reforming public theology is heavily reliant on Augustine and O'Donovan. Some sections went over my head as there was an assumed repertoire on the part of the reader (probably just revealing my own ignorance).
That being said, main takeaways (much more could be said):
1) There is something political at stake in our worship and something religious at stake in our politics
2) Every political theory assumes an anthropology, and every anthropology underwrites some political trajectory
3) Our common life (the 'polis') is underestimated in its ability to form us– i.e., our political lives (as citizens) are incredibly formative in shaping us and our loves
4) We need to assess politics as not just ideas but as incubators of love-shaping practices
5) We all underestimate the extent to which our own loves have been captivated by the rites of the "earthly city"
6) The church is to be the place where Christians' loves are shaped.
7) Christian political engagement must not be afraid to engage on the basis of the gospel and not just "common/natural law"– even more so in an increasingly secularised society.
8) Christian thought ought to provide the most stable toleration of pluralism.
Trying to gain an understanding of political theology– how are we to think politically as Christians.
Smith's proposal for reforming public theology is heavily reliant on Augustine and O'Donovan. Some sections went over my head as there was an assumed repertoire on the part of the reader (probably just revealing my own ignorance).
That being said, main takeaways (much more could be said):
1) There is something political at stake in our worship and something religious at stake in our politics
2) Every political theory assumes an anthropology, and every anthropology underwrites some political trajectory
3) Our common life (the 'polis') is underestimated in its ability to form us– i.e., our political lives (as citizens) are incredibly formative in shaping us and our loves
4) We need to assess politics as not just ideas but as incubators of love-shaping practices
5) We all underestimate the extent to which our own loves have been captivated by the rites of the "earthly city"
6) The church is to be the place where Christians' loves are shaped.
7) Christian political engagement must not be afraid to engage on the basis of the gospel and not just "common/natural law"– even more so in an increasingly secularised society.
8) Christian thought ought to provide the most stable toleration of pluralism.
March 9, 2018
James K.A. Smith has done it again! This book is a difficult but amazing read. Recommended for those who want a deeper understanding of politics and the church.
December 10, 2017
In a world where the Christian theologians, pastors, and laymen routinely communicate co-opted political stances, where televangelists preach the "gospel" of the Religious Right or where T.V. pastors preach the "gospel" of the Christian Left, and, yet, where Christian engagement in "politics" is often reticent, fraught with overcomplexities, and, in the end, discarded, James K.A. Smith's final entry in his Cultural Liturgies project is a breath of fresh air. Side-stepping altogether the monastic approach of Rod Dreher's Benedict Option, Smith frames his political theology first and foremost as a critique of his own Reformed (= Kuyperian) tradition's positive politics; a, as he puts it, way of "speaking Hauerwas" to the Reformed community. But Smith's account goes so much beyond a particularized challenge.
Even beyond that, Smith "speaks Kuyper" to the Hauerwasian community, showing some verve in challenging some (and I must emphasize "some") of its ecclesiocentrisms, pointing out its weaknesses, and calling it to re-engagement with the Augustinian (and, even!, Constantinian) political legacy. In that sense, Smith writes between Kuyper, Hauerwas, and Leithart, always with Augustine on the back-burner, and with some significant, sustained engagement with Oliver O'Donovan. (Maybe too much Oliver O'Donovan, see below.)
It is hard to distill Smith's work into a review-format, but the big takeaway is the nuance Smith articulates between affirming the "goods" of political engagement without committing to a theonomistic or theocratic vision of the secular government. Dominionism has no room in Smith's theology here, and he (very appropriately) asserts that such oversimplified accounts of Christian political engagement, more often than not, form the Church into the image of the world, rather than (as their proponents suggest) vice-versa. Smith reframes all political thought from that of "spaces" (as the Reformed "sphere" doctrine suggests) into that of "times," keeping the eschatological telos of the Church in view at all times to avoid the dominionist error. With this established, he then delves deeply into Augustine's City of God and the works of Oliver O'Donovan (The Desire of the Nations and The Ways of Judgment especially) in order to navigate the unique complexities of ekklesia qua polis.
In so doing, at times, Smith overindulges in reference and quotation. There is a middle section in this work that feels like a big clumping of O'Donovan quotes. Awaiting the King isn't quite as polished as the previously two entries in the Cultural Liturgies sequence, and one kind of gets the sense that Smith is hesitant (for more than a few reasons, I am sure) to articulate his own political claims. There is a complexity in speaking to the "political" in our current culture and context, one which calls the Christian theologian to honor the complexities and nuance of a wide variety of political teloi. (Although, Smith does not hold back from a snide, and hilarious, rip against American evangelicalism on page 205!)
Most significant, in Awaiting the King Smith proves the practical power of his theses from Imagining the Kingdom. If we see the world as a matrix of competing visions of "the good," as full of idols and pagan gods (if we re-enchant it), as competitive formations, then we must also see that the practices for Christian political formation call us to a different form or structure of political engagement. There are, I think, other possible theses to pursue with Cultural Liturgies as their foundations, and I hope Smith's work has a wide receptivity in the seminary and the academy for years to come.
As a pastor, I feel most empowered in the ethnographic (that is, sociological) end of my work. Smith's political theology does a great job in accomplishing what Walter Brueggemann's The Prophetic Imagination failed to do: provide the practical and theological grounds for the pastor's social, i.e. creational, work.
This work is a more-than-suitable conclusion for the Cultural Liturgies project, and it deserves not only to be read but to be implemented by pastors and theologians, for the sake of the good of the world.
Even beyond that, Smith "speaks Kuyper" to the Hauerwasian community, showing some verve in challenging some (and I must emphasize "some") of its ecclesiocentrisms, pointing out its weaknesses, and calling it to re-engagement with the Augustinian (and, even!, Constantinian) political legacy. In that sense, Smith writes between Kuyper, Hauerwas, and Leithart, always with Augustine on the back-burner, and with some significant, sustained engagement with Oliver O'Donovan. (Maybe too much Oliver O'Donovan, see below.)
It is hard to distill Smith's work into a review-format, but the big takeaway is the nuance Smith articulates between affirming the "goods" of political engagement without committing to a theonomistic or theocratic vision of the secular government. Dominionism has no room in Smith's theology here, and he (very appropriately) asserts that such oversimplified accounts of Christian political engagement, more often than not, form the Church into the image of the world, rather than (as their proponents suggest) vice-versa. Smith reframes all political thought from that of "spaces" (as the Reformed "sphere" doctrine suggests) into that of "times," keeping the eschatological telos of the Church in view at all times to avoid the dominionist error. With this established, he then delves deeply into Augustine's City of God and the works of Oliver O'Donovan (The Desire of the Nations and The Ways of Judgment especially) in order to navigate the unique complexities of ekklesia qua polis.
In so doing, at times, Smith overindulges in reference and quotation. There is a middle section in this work that feels like a big clumping of O'Donovan quotes. Awaiting the King isn't quite as polished as the previously two entries in the Cultural Liturgies sequence, and one kind of gets the sense that Smith is hesitant (for more than a few reasons, I am sure) to articulate his own political claims. There is a complexity in speaking to the "political" in our current culture and context, one which calls the Christian theologian to honor the complexities and nuance of a wide variety of political teloi. (Although, Smith does not hold back from a snide, and hilarious, rip against American evangelicalism on page 205!)
Most significant, in Awaiting the King Smith proves the practical power of his theses from Imagining the Kingdom. If we see the world as a matrix of competing visions of "the good," as full of idols and pagan gods (if we re-enchant it), as competitive formations, then we must also see that the practices for Christian political formation call us to a different form or structure of political engagement. There are, I think, other possible theses to pursue with Cultural Liturgies as their foundations, and I hope Smith's work has a wide receptivity in the seminary and the academy for years to come.
As a pastor, I feel most empowered in the ethnographic (that is, sociological) end of my work. Smith's political theology does a great job in accomplishing what Walter Brueggemann's The Prophetic Imagination failed to do: provide the practical and theological grounds for the pastor's social, i.e. creational, work.
This work is a more-than-suitable conclusion for the Cultural Liturgies project, and it deserves not only to be read but to be implemented by pastors and theologians, for the sake of the good of the world.
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