A New Climate for Theology: God, the World, and Global Warming

by Sallie McFague

Fortress, Minneapolis, 2008. 198 pp. $20.00. ISBN 978-0-8006-6271-4. Combined review with

Ecologies of Grace: Environmental Ethics and Christian Theology

by Willis Jenkins

Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2008. 363 pp. $35.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-19-532851-6.

SALLIE MCFAGUE PROPHETICALLY addresses the new climate that will engulf global civilization in the next fifty to seventy-five years. As she details in the first part of A New Climate for Theology, in just the past ten years, the “most likely” scenarios for global climate change have moved from sobering to terrifying. For instance, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change now projects a possible global temperature rise of up to 6° C by 2100, with a 4.5° rise being most likely (by comparison, the last ice age was 5° cooler than today). Not only is that a geologically split-second, epochal shift with awful implications for flora and fauna, but there is a sociopolitically devastating geophysical twist: because of the physical dynamics of climate change, “for a long time things will be fine, but then, suddenly, perhaps within a decade or two, it will be too late” (p. 14).

Our most likely future reality is almost unimaginable (though we were given a snapshot in the breakdown of civil order in New Orleans in the immediate aftermath of Katrina). The “new climate,” McFague explains, “will be one of violent class wars over resources, the breakdown of civilization at all levels, and the end of . . . the opportunity to have meaningful work, to raise healthy children, to enjoy leisure activities” (p. 168). Climate change, then, is not just one among many challenges that we face, for “[a]ll of the other issues we care about—social justice, peace, prosperity, freedom—cannot occur unless our planet is healthy” (p. 15). There still is time to act and prevent these outcomes. By spending about three percent of global GNP, we could stabilize global temperature with a 2° C rise by 2100. But because of the geophysical twist, we need to act now, while everything still seems to be fine.

The distinct task of the theologian in the face of such a threat—to suggest “different language for talking about God and ourselves” (p. 3)—can seem marginal. However, McFague argues that this is essential, for “in a democracy the basic beliefs of citizens ultimately control the actions of institutions, both business and government” (p. 25). Furthermore, she suggests, the marginalization of theology in modern Western society has been a major part of the problem: the “privatization of religion is the triumph of public greed” (p. 35). Unfortunately, much modern Western theology has failed to orient us properly as fellow creatures within an earth community that we are called to love.

In the middle two parts of the book, McFague sketches problematic understandings and suggests alternatives. We find familiar critiques of individualism, traditional understandings of God, and neo-classical economics. McFague also makes less familiar but suggestive and important observations about the character and significance of cities, and issues an important critique of the dangerous claim that since everything on earth now bears the mark of human activity, there is no longer any such thing as wilderness or first nature. (The claim is dangerous because it is hard to say why we should work to save wilderness or nature if no such thing exists.) McFague also provides familiar proposals for new models and metaphors that will help to foster an “incarnational” theology (where, speaking roughly, God is incarnate throughout creation, not only in Jesus). At times, McFague caricatures traditional theology and, in my opinion, significantly underestimates its potential, creating a serious and unnecessary obstacle to coordinated response across theological boundaries. But on the whole, she provides good overviews of these familiar critiques and makes promising proposals, many of which could be taken up by those who retain traditional theological commitments.

Very little of the science or theology in the first three parts of the work is groundbreaking, but it is well-written, accessible, incredibly significant, and shows the relationship and vital importance of diverse areas of theological reflection (these would be excellent chapters in a classroom setting). It is the fourth part of the book that makes the whole work special, scary, and classically prophetic. The modern philosophical, theological, economic, and political dynamics that have led us to the edge of geophysical apocalypse have been generations in the making. Such dynamics cannot be turned on a dime and, devastatingly, such is required. McFague, with classic prophetic realism, discerns the reality and the signs of the times and so concludes that the “most likely” apocalyptic scenario almost certainly describes humanity’s near future (the reality of our young children and grandchildren’s late adulthoods). That reality, ultimately, is the new climate for theology that McFague has in mind, a theology for humanity's fast-coming, brutal, and global “exilic” period.

McFague has dedicated her time to reflecting upon possibilities for more faithful economics, political structures, philosophy, and theology—possibilities that cannot be realized in time to avert catastrophe, because she sees catastrophe as inevitable. But she refuses to lose hope. Hope, however, can only be found in God. Explicitly repudiating her previous rejection of the “spirit” metaphor, McFague encourages us to be empowered by hope in the faithfulness of God, hope carried in the “story of Jesus Christ . . . the story of God incarnate, facing the worst that the world (human beings) can offer in terms of oppression and destruction, and rising to new life—the cross and the resurrection” (pp. 171–72). We can live, McFague urges, in the hope and confidence that God will bring us through this geophysical apocalypse; and even now we can work proleptically to ensure that the remnant that remains will be able to formulate different and faithful economics, political structures, philosophy, and theology.

Willis Jenkins’ selfconsciously iconoclastic Ecologies of Grace is so erudite and thought-provoking that I recommend it even while strongly disputing its organizing principles and conclusions. Unlike McFague, who is motivated by a practical terror, Jenkins appeals to the practical out of a modern epistemological concern over lack of intelligibility in environmental ethics. Jenkins’ concern with theory is so powerful that he dedicates the first part of his book to constructing a metanarrative (“map”) that allows him to sketch minimal criteria for “the moral science of environmental ethics” (p. 59), to sort environmental ethics in accord with their practical strategies (“nature’s standing,” “moral agency,” and “ecological subjectivity”), and to illustrate how correlate theological strategies (“ecojustice,” “Christian stewardship,” and “ecological spirituality”) make environmental concerns relevant to Christians by clarifying their soteriological significance.

Jenkins’ modern mentality is a practical strength insofar as his environmental appeals work in accord with mainstream cultural assumptions. In particular, Jenkins is explicitly anthropocentric— though his is an exceedingly generous anthropocentrism—and solicitous of science. In contrast to mainstream environmentalist scholarship, Jenkins does not call for a wholesale rethinking of predominant modern Western rationality and human self-understanding.

The appeals to soteriology are likewise a practical strength insofar as they are congruent with popular modern theological understandings. For instance, the Christian strategy of ecojustice “transforms” secular appeals to nature’s standing and “makes environmental problems significant for Christian concern by making God’s relation to creation part of God’s way to friendship to humanity” (p. 61). Similarly, the Christian strategy of ecological spirituality “transforms” secular appeals to ecological subjectivity and “makes environmental issues matter for Christian experience by appealing to the ecological dimensions of fully Christian personhood” (p. 93).

Jenkins’ interest in appealing to mainstream theological understanding is perpetuated when he turns to theology proper in the second part of his book. His selection of representative environmental theologians is also iconoclastic. He chooses Aquinas to represent ecojustice theology and Barth to represent a theology of Christian stewardship, and offers stimulating interpretations of each. His selection of Maximus and Bulgakov to represent theologies of ecological spirituality is far less surprising, but may be especially interesting to Western readers unfamiliar with Orthodox theology.

One could argue that Jenkins’ theological readings are forced, and that his anthropocentrism and affirmation of mainstream Western modern rationality perpetuate the modern conceptual and spiritual roots of the environmental crisis. Morevover, those who follow Albert Schweitzer and Andrew Linzey, transforming secular animal rights concerns into a theological calling, might object that Jenkins’ metanarrative simply writes “animal rights” and its theological analogues out of existence. (Notably, for Jenkins, when prophetic visions of a peaceable kingdom lead to moral ideals at variance with realities revealed by natural science, natural science trumps [pp. 73–75].)

But even critics will find much to commend in Jenkins' insightful and stimulating book. In relation to the multitudes who for the foreseeable future are likely to remain anthropocentric and to think in accord with mainstream modern Western rationality, Jenkins offers a powerful, multivalent, and environmentally friendly metanarrative, and explains its clear congruence with predominant streams of Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox Christianity.

William Greenway
AUSTIN PRESBYTERIAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
AUSTIN, TEXAS
    

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1 & 2 Thessalonians

by Linda McKinnish Bridges

Smyth & Helwys, Macon, Ga., 2008. 293 pp. $45.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-57312-083-8.

BIBLICAL SCHOLARSHIP OVER the past twenty years has undergone a significant attitude shift with regard to presenting its findings in a more “user-friendly” format. Two decades ago, those few Old and New Testament studies that contained visual images and special-interest boxes (“sidebars”) were not considered scholarly enough to be worthy of serious consideration. Not so any more. In recent years, we have seen a growing wave of published biblical scholarship specifically designed to bridge the gap between the insights of academicians and the demands of theological students and preachers.

The new commentary on 1 and 2 Thessalonians by Linda McKinnish Bridges illustrates this shift. Her volume is part of an ambitious series, the Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary, that covers both Old and New Testaments and whose stated goal is “to make available serious, credible biblical scholarship in an accessible and less intimidating format” (p. xv). A multimedia format is employed under the conviction that “a visual generation of believers deserves a commentary series that contains not only the all-important textual commentary on Scripture, but images, photographs, maps, works of fine art, and drawings that bring the text to light” (p. xv). Like the others in the series, this volume treats each major section of the biblical text in two main sections: Commentary and Connections. The first deals with matters typically found in an exegetical commentary: explanations of the Greek text, historical context and literary forms, as well as theological issues that the text raises. The Connections section deals with the application of the text, providing the pastor, teacher, and lay reader with specific ways in which these two ancient letters remain relevant for the church today.

Sidebars are located liberally throughout both sections. Each of these special-interest boxes has not only a descriptive heading but also an icon intended to provide a visual clue to the type of material found within. These sidebars are classified into four different types. The first, symbolized with an icon of the Greek letters, Alpha and Omega, deals with issues pertaining to the Greek text of 1 and 2 Thessalonians. The second, with an icon of an Ionic capital, covers the cultural context: how geographical, historical, political, or social information from the Greco-Roman world sheds light on Paul’s words to the Thessalonian church. The third, with its icon of an open book, includes quotations from classic or contemporary literature that illuminate some aspect of the apostle’s letter. The fourth, symbolized with a magnifying glass, provides the reader with a list of useful resources for further investigation.

A lot of effort has been put into producing a commentary on 1 and 2 Thessalonians that meets the series goal of making available serious scholarship in an accessible format, and that effort must be judged a success. This resulting volume presents its material in an inviting, visually rich format that will be appreciated not only by pastors, seminary students, and lay readers but also by academicians. In the midst of a plethora of commentary series currently on the market, the user-friendly format of this volume makes it stand out as an attractive option. Nevertheless, the discerning commentary buyer might worry that such a volume is, as the saying goes, “all style and no substance.” We move, therefore, beyond the packaging of this volume to consider more carefully its contents.

The brief introduction (thirteen pages) presents four patterns of thought that have guided McKinnish Bridges’ reading of 1 Thessalonians. First, she was surprised to discover from Paul’s style of leadership that the apostle is not the arrogant, manipulative, and misogynist person she anticipated but “a softer Paul, accessible to all people, both male and female” (p. 6). Second, with regard to identifying the letter’s literary genre, McKinnish Bridges chooses "not to confine Paul’s words to any single genre or theory, ancient or modern” (p. 8), and refers to the letter more generally as a letter of friendship by which Paul encourages the Thessalonian church. Third, the congregation of Thessalonica is not based in the home of a wealthy patron but is an artisan church—a community shaped by manual laborers who meet in a workshop or tenement house. Fourth, the original members of this artisan community were primarily male and the resulting androcentric perspective encoded in the letter has implications for its interpretation: “If a feminine perspective is absent, either by force or ignorance, then the interpreter is faced with the challenge of creating new worlds of meaning that will be more inclusive and available to all of the readers. That is the purpose of this commentary” (p. 12).

The exegesis is competent and typically follows the positions of mainline Thessalonian scholarship. Objections could be raised about any commentary; space constraints allow me to raise just three. First, McKinnish Bridges follows the majority of contemporary scholars in rejecting the older view that sees an apologetic concern at work in the letter. Yet she misrepresents the older view, claiming that it holds that Paul was seeking “to defend his role as leader, a role that was being challenged by opponents in the congregation in Thessaloniki” (p. 19). This is incorrect, as defenders of the older view claim that Paul’s opponents are outside the church (2:14, “fellow citizens”) and that the attack on the apostle thus naturally concerned not his qualifications as leader (as in Galatians), but his integrity and moral character. Second, on the heavily debated textual question of whether Paul described himself and his coworkers as “gentle” (e3pioi) or “infants” (ne3pioi), McKinnish Bridges chooses what she admits on external evidence is the weaker reading, namely, “gentle.” She does so on the grounds that this reading eliminates a mixed metaphor created by the image of a nursing mother mentioned later in the same verse. But the problem of the mixed metaphor is greatly minimized if not removed altogether with proper punctuation of the verse, so that the metaphor of infants concludes the point of 2:5–7, while the metaphor of a nursing mother introduces the new point of 2:7b–8 (as correctly punctuated in the tniv). Third, one of McKinnish Bridges’ more novel interpretations is that the word “laborers” in 5:12 (“those who labor among you in the Lord”) refers not to spiritual leaders working in the church but simply to “people who produce goods for society” (p. 150). That Paul has in view, however, not regular laborers but spiritual leaders seems clear from the accompanying prepositional phrase that such folks are “in the Lord” and that the rest of the church should “esteem them most highly because of their work.”

The Connection section for each major unit of the letter runs on average about two-thirds the length of the Commentary section and thus forms a significant part of the overall volume. McKinnish Bridges draws heavily in this section from her own past experiences and often speaks in the first-person voice, giving a very personal and almost autobiographical quality to this material. She grew up in a fundamentalist Baptist mountain church where end-time discussions played a heavy role, and many of her observations in this section involve reflections on how her past understanding of the Bible has been nuanced or changed by her later academic studies, life experiences, and reflection.

There is a separate and lengthier introduction (twenty pages) to 2 Thessalonians. McKinnish Bridges argues that this letter differs from 1 Thessalonians in its emotional tone, vocabulary, and syntactical structure, and thus was not written by Paul. She spends quite a bit of time discussing pseudepigraphical writing, arguing that “to forge a name on a piece of work did not signal dishonesty; rather, to place a name other than your own on the work was a way of honoring the past, of creating additional authority for the name and readers” (p. 200). Second Thessalonians, she argues, was written by a disciple of Paul to a Thessalonian church that is a little older, bolder, and more organized, but that needed doctrinal correction concerning the end times and admonishment concerning work.

To summarize, McKinnish Bridges has produced a commentary on 1 and 2 Thessalonians that fulfills well the series goal of providing solid scholarship in a nonthreatening, user-friendly format, and therefore will be especially appealing to those engaged in pastoral ministry. But while all will appreciate this volume’s packaging, judgment about its contents will likely be more mixed, depending on whether one shares McKinnish Bridges’ specific patterns of thought on how these two letters ought to be read.

Jeffrey A. D. Weima
CALVIN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN

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