★★★★★

From the introduction: Nearly three decades ago Richard John Neuhaus wrote a book with an arresting title—The Naked Public Square. Neuhaus’ argument was simple—religion is in danger of losing its traditional place in the public square, or rather the public square was in danger of losing the leavening agency of religion.

The title of Cornwall’s new book intrigued me, and the writing didn’t disappoint. How is it that religion remains a constant presence in our public lives, yet is disappearing from public conversation? Robert helps out with this collection of short, two-page essays written for publication in the Lompoc Record (Lompoc, California). I can picture the Record lying open to his column on a Lompoc park bench, two men holding it down between them against the brisk wind. They are reading and discussing the day in 2007 when Congress convened, witnessing several American religious firsts, including the seating of two Buddhists and a Muslim as congressional representatives. Does this mean we’re witnessing the realization of America’s promise as a land of freedom for people of every religious background?

Cornwall’s passions seem to be religion and politics, and he loves writing about where the two overlap (whether beneficially or not), but the topics aren’t limited to this. Toward the end of the collection he strays to other controversial issues such as stem cell research, the source of sexual preference, and “enhanced interrogation techniques” (torture). Cornwall’s writing is piercing, yet engrossing because it’s both intelligent and balanced. Of religious differences, he is respectful, sharing his own beliefs without elaboration or evangelism.

I really enjoyed this one. But hopefully I’m allowed one complaint: Guys, when you put together an anthology of writings like this, could you please date each one? Our world is changing so fast, and I’m one of those readers who begins every book by noting the publication date, so I can match the writing to the atmosphere and knowledge of the day.

★★★★

This book is sort of a “recent classic,” first copyrighted in 1966 and reprinted four times since then. It’s a discussion of Bible chronology, leaning heavily upon a historical analysis of the book of Revelation.

Adams is a “realized millennialist,” meaning he believes the 1000-year millennium spoken of in Revelation (an “age” not necessarily meaning precisely 1000 years) has already arrived. It began in early New Testament times, and continues till the present. This is the period in which Satan is bound in chains. “Binding” doesn’t mean total inability, of course, for then one could hardly believe Jesus when he claimed to bind the strong man (Satan).

Now, since Adams is also a post-millennialist, meaning he believes Jesus will arrive after the millennium, he is able to reconcile the fact that Revelation’s horrors mimic precisely the age in which its author lived (the first century) and still look forward to Christ’s second coming. The “real” golden age, with eternal life, is just around the corner. The time is at hand.

I applaud the way Adams takes seriously the references in Revelation to the first century and the urgency of its message. Still, this interpretation always feels to me a little like having your cake and eating it too.

Kuyper reads the Bible literally, in particular the Garden of Eden and mankind’s fall, and ponders some provoking issues about what the Fall meant for the development of science and art. His writing, while dated and in many places relevant only to the most conservative Christian, is intelligent and opinionated, and the translation is elegant. It’s a pleasure to read.

by Keith A. Giles

★★★★

For ye are the temple of the living God.

What was the temple that Jesus came to establish? It was you and I—the living temple of the Holy Spirit. Jesus did what David and Solomon and all the rest could never do. He built an acceptable temple for God that was cleansed with His own blood and purified by the Lamb of God.

And God has said: “I will live with them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they will be my people.” -2 Cr. 6:16

This concept forms the basis of Giles’ book, This Is My Body. His emphasis on Christ, particularly the Christ dwelling within, renders today’s clergy (as a class separate from the laity) as a misdirected spinoff from first-century teachings. The early church knew nothing of the clergy class of leader we see today; in the New Testament, every Christian is a minister, everyone a priest. In arguing his case, Giles holds true to the traditionally understood authorship and dating of the New Testament.

Consider the controversy over the Pastoral letters: Timothy I, II, and Titus. Scholars recognize how the teachings of the Pastorals contradict the teachings of other Pauline letters and of the Gospels, addressing the hierarchical needs of the growing church (e.g.: the need for a clergy!), and assume that they are written later; possibly in the early second century. That would mean they are not written by Paul. Giles, however, takes the opposite approach; he takes Pauline authorship for granted, and argues instead that we are wrongly interpreting the meaning of the Pastoral letters. His book contradicts both conservative and liberal thinking, and while Giles would never put it quite this way, he probably comes closer to the message of Jesus than the New Testament writers themselves.

Says Giles, “I believe it’s time the Church went out of business. Close down the bank account, lay off the pastoral staff, cancel the utilities, sell the building, auction off the sound system and the digital projector and turn out the lights.” Time to become the church instead of attending one.

(This book may be purchased at http://wearethetemple.blogspot.com/)

★★★★

Life is a journey, and author Ed Galisewski has been taking some big steps of late. He writes not as a theologian, but as an everyday guy, a “Joe Palooka” with a “view from the pew.” He tells, earnestly and frankly, about his trek away from denominationalism and where he is at on that journey. We need a simpler faith, he insists, brushing away all the dross until we’re back to the basics.

To be honest, Ed is convinced about many things that I am not. He claims to be a Christian, I claim to be a Christian, yet we don’t agree on even the basics. Here’s the funny thing: I can’t tell whether I’m ahead of Ed on the journey or whether he’s ahead of me! Maybe we’re just on different journeys.

Regardless, I enjoyed the glimpse at another man’s struggle with church, even as I realize I can’t relate to the direction the journey has carried Ed. His new opinion of how to get back to basics means stripping back to C-S-G … Creator, Savior, Guide (you may note the relation to the persons of the Trinity). Although he presents this as the solution to everyone’s church problems, this strategy doesn’t quite work for me. I stand in awe at the wonder of life and the universe, yet the role of a creator in all this remains pure speculation in my mind. I stand in awe at the unselfish sacrifice Jesus made, yet I don’t share Ed’s view of what we need to be saved from. He mentions talking with a rabbi and being astonished that this rabbi felt no need for a savior.  As a conservative Christian, Galisewski naturally thinks that everybody recognizes themselves as a horrible sinner in need of being saved.  As an example, at least three times, Galisewski bemoans the way men’s minds work, once making reference to a study that shows that men’s thoughts turn to sex about 30 or 40 times an hour. Oh, what evil beings we are for harboring within us that incredible, bewildering, life-giving chemical reaction that transformed homo sapiens into an evolutionary success! We shouldn’t be celebrating the miracle of life, we should be condemning it! Save us from this life-giving evil!

OK, I’m being dramatic, but the point is, Christians won’t see eye-to-eye on even what Galisewski considers “the basics” … and we shouldn’t! We are complex, thinking, environmentally-driven individuals with differing spiritual needs, so Ed’s solution isn’t universal, but it IS a good one! Ed advises taking a break from our church, stepping outside its “business plan” to think things through. It’s a scary thing to do … questioning long-held traditions and perhaps even embracing other rituals and worship atmospheres, but he’s surely right that this will contribute to our spiritual growth. Ed despises exclusivity, encouraging Christians to see across denominational lines.

Here’s the bottom line: While the differences of opinion between Ed and I are legion, he appeals to me as a person I would very much enjoy conversing with about Christianity. His approach is respectful and humble, and he and I could learn from one another. What we have within these pages is an everyman’s sincere struggle to be more Godly. Read his book for an insight into what worked for one man and his closest friends.

★★★★

This is the Apostle Paul’s life and ministry by the book. It’s told with Biblical precision, lots of scriptural passages, and little embellishment until the final pages. Despite the provocative title, there is nothing controversial in this conservative treatment. Bakoyannis portrays Paul as driven, caring, conscientious, and with nearly superhuman devotion to the Gospel through the aid of the Spirit.

Toward the end, Bakoyannis falls back on the writings of Clement, bishop of Rome, to describe Paul’s release from prison and visit to Spain. He describes how Paul was beheaded by the instruction of Nero, and relates the legend of Paul’s death—how his body bled milk, not blood, and how his head leapt about on the ground, stopping to face north, south, east and west—but other than the final pages, this is a scriptural retelling.

It’s published by Convivium Press, which I’ve come to recognize as a high quality publisher. Easy to read and interesting, enjoyable for all ages. 

by Sheila Deeth

The phrase “spiritual but not religious” has become such a common description that an acronym has developed: SBNR. Are you an SBNR? 

★★★★★

Piscine Molitor Patel (nickname: Pi) grows up as an impressionable young son of a zookeeper in India. When the family decides to sell the zoo animals and relocate to Canada, they board a cargo ship with the caged animals and set off. Tragedy strikes, the ship sinks, and young Pi (now sixteen, I think) finds himself on a 20-foot lifeboat with a wounded zebra, a hyperactive hyena, a likeable orangutan and a waiting tiger as his only companions. Soon, as you can imagine, it’s just he and the tiger.

Let’s back up. Pi’s passion is Christ. Well, and Muhammed. And Krishna. As a practicing Christian, Muslim, and Hindu in India, he sees no reason to choose between the three, but this drives his three spiritual advisors batty. Only one of the three can be right, right? The stage is set for a journey which will uncover God, for that is the book’s promise: to deliver a story that will make you believe in God.

But in the middle of the shark-infested Pacific ocean, with a ferocious Bengal tiger filling most of the lifeboat, God seems to slip out of the story. Where has God gone? Why bother introducing Pi’s triune confusion, if only to let God slide by the wayside? Most readers, I’m convinced, will never find Him again. You won’t find God either, if you don’t keep your eyes open, or if you point those eyes only up to heaven.  Even those who imagine they have uncovered Martel’s postmodern message may be unwilling to probe inside the fanciful tale atop the banal story wherein God dwells.

★★★★

Paul Copan responds to the New Atheist stance that the God of the Old Testament is a “moral monster.” I agreed with only about half of Copan’s conclusions, but his book was well-written, informative, and fun to read.

Copan begins by attempting to make sense of the story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac. I loved the short discussion comparing the two times that God called Abraham: The first time to come to the promised land, the second time to sacrifice his son. Because of similar language, Copan argues that Abraham “couldn’t have missed the connection being made … God is clearly reminding him of his promise of blessing in Genesis 12 even while he’s being commanded to do what seems to be utterly opposed to that promise.” Outside of this, though, the Abraham/Isaac story is one of those sections of Copan’s book that just didn’t work for me. It doesn’t seem to matter how it’s explained to me, as soon as someone tries to pull this story down from the level of mythology and make me imagine it to be a true story that really happened, I start to feel queasy. I’d have a few choice words for God if he told me to kill my son. If Copan doesn’t mind, I’ll continue to classify this Bible passage as “storied theology,” where it’s much more palatable.

Copan spends several chapters talking about Israel’s slavery laws, and this section is superb. Was this law ideal? Certainly not. But there are three points I’d like to bring out here:

[1] We are discussing the Law of God, not what actually transpired among imperfect people. Yep, they kept slaves against the rules. The law was not faithfully followed.

[2] Copan points out again and again that Israel’s laws were a great improvement over the surrounding nations. God held Israel to a higher standard.

[3] Although this point gets little press time in the book, as the law evolved, it became more and more humane. Compare, for example, the Book of the Covenant, quoted by the Elohist in Exodus 21, with the Priesthood writings in Leviticus 19, and finally with the Deuteronomist’s instructions in Deut 22.

Yes, the Old Testament law seems archaic and brutal by today’s standards. Yet it’s clear Israel was  learning and was trying to become Godly. Perhaps slowly approaching the standard God had in mind. Buy the book and, if you read nothing else, study chapters 11-14.

Next, Copan tackles what I feel are the most troublesome issues: genocide and ethnic cleansing. Particularly, the conquest of Canaan. Copan points out (rightly) that the Bible’s claims of utter annihilation are highly exaggerated, and that archaeological evidence hints that no such mass conquest took place. For the most part, Israel peacefully settled into Canaan without warfare and without driving out its inhabitants. But whether or not the conquest really happened, the fact remains that the Word of God graphically describes these holy wars in quite unholy terms, and claims that God commanded this inhumanity. Read, for example, Numbers 31:17-18, where God gives instruction regarding Midianite captives: “Now kill all the boys. And kill every woman who has slept with a man, but save for yourselves every girl who has never slept with a man.” Copan tries to soften the command, explaining that the non-virgin women were seducing Israel’s men and the boys would grow up to become warriors, but nothing can soften that one.

Copan presents a word game at this point. Moses commanded the armies to “utterly destroy” the Canaanites and not to “leave alive anything that breathes.” Joshua didn’t do this; we have lots of evidence of Canaanite people remaining afterward. Yet if you read Joshua 11:12, it says Joshua did as he was told; he utterly destroyed them as Moses commanded. Ergo, since Joshua didn’t kill ‘em all, but the Word of God says he did what he was told, then we can apparently consider Moses’ original command as hyperbole…the rhetoric of war. God didn’t really sanction genocide.

Well, whatever. Copan’s next attempt to justify this evil by reminding us that God is the author of life and has a rightful claim on it falls flat for me. If any kids were killed, they would go straight to heaven anyway, he says. The danger of that kind of thinking hardly needs discussion!

Though well-researched and thought-provoking, I finished the book with the feeling that Copan tried his best to tackle an impossible topic. I think it’s a four-star attempt and a fun book; I can’t judge the loser of a debate merely because he was given an indefensible position, right?

★★★★

Let me start by saying Chapman reads Revelation the traditional way: as a promise of our future. She also firmly believes in the inerrancy of scripture. Therefore, she and I will certainly differ in opinion. It’s hard for me to grasp how any serious scholar of Revelation can still read the Bible as inerrant scripture, but  Chapman gives herself two outs: She emphasizes that her foundation is scripture alone, and she admits that John did not fully understand the vision himself. Whereas I read the book from the understanding that John knew full well the things he was watching happen with his own eyes, and the things he anticipated in his near future.

That said, Chapman’s writing is logical, simple, and well-organized. It’s a nicely written book, and will be appreciated especially by conservative Christians. It’s also true to the flavor of Revelation, which made it enjoyable for me as well. She remains true to the Scripture, varying only occasionally for embellishment, and does not dampen the spirit of revelation by pulling punches. She reveals revelation to be a song of wrath and vengeance. She highlights the dichotomy of Revelation, its us-versus-them plea. For example, she wonders if the sword of the red horseman represents the sword of Islam. “Islam is already murdering Christians because they don’t follow the laws of Islam.”

Scholars will protest, of course, knowing that John’s intended meaning couldn’t possibly have been a nation or religious movement he had never heard of. But Chapman’s book shouldn’t be read in that manner. Chapman makes Revelation contemporary, as if it were written by a minister of today. She modernizes the message by substituting Muslims for the hated Rome, and the apostate church for the wayward Jerusalem, and maintains precisely the right tone of vitriol for both.  As Revelation’s Babylon became a dwelling place for demons, so has the Vatican today (the Vatican’s chief exorcist says he has dealt with 70,000 cases of demonic possession in his life). Chapman brings to life the apocalyptic, leave-it-to-Jesus atmosphere of John’s day by suggesting that the plagues of Revelation will mock the attempts of environmentalists to save the earth and the seas from pollution. This treatment actually brought Revelation alive for me, by forcing me to imagine how its fiery message was first received by the Christians John was writing to. I imagine with much the same disparate feelings as fundamentalist Christians today would read Chapman’s book. (I confess, that worries me.)

Two-thirds of the way through the book, the coverage of Revelation dwindles and Chapman begins discussing the rapture and the argument for a post-tribulation timing. Rapture is, of course, a Pauline idea, and most of Chapman’s treatment the rest of the way concerns the writings of other Biblical authors. I merely scanned from this point forward as my interest waned once the topic moved away from Revelation. But back to Revelation and a few of the discussions I found interesting:

Chapman believes in a post-tribulation rapture. She understands the two periods of tribulation to be periods of trial for the Christians. She welcomes this time with joy and anticipation, knowing what is to follow.

She and I agree a great deal on how to interpret Revelation’s bizarre imagery. For example, we agree that the rider of the white horse is an apostate force. We agree that the seals, trumpets, and vials are unique sequences. She proposes that we have entered the seal period, just as I surmise that John of Patmos felt he was living in the seal period as he wrote. Yet Chapman surprised me at times with new ideas, such as her comparison of the four beasts around the throne with the four horsemen.

A large part of Chapman’s theology is the rebuilding of the Temple. She anticipates this during the era of the two witnesses. This puzzled me at first, because Revelation says absolutely nothing about rebuilding the Temple; one of John’s most striking contributions is his direct contradiction of the prophets (primarily Ezekiel) who promised a new Temple. Instead, Revelation says just that opposite, that there will be no Temple in the New Jerusalem. Jesus, says both Revelation and John’s Gospel, is the new Temple. But as I continued reading, I began to recognize the reason for Chapman’s emphasis on a rebuilt Temple. If she is translating Revelation to the current day, the Abomination of Desolation has to go somewhere! From the point of view of my own book, the AofD came and went back in the first century while there was still a Temple, of course, but we must somehow make Revelation current to our time for Chapman’s treatment, and we don’t have a Temple today! Ergo, it apparently has to be rebuilt!

That led to the next confusing part for me. She apparently interprets Revelation’s “new heaven and new earth” to coincide with the arrive of a NEW New Jerusalem…this second New Jerusalem residing up in heaven and having no Temple…presumably replacing the first New Jerusalem. “The millennial city has no walls, but the eternal city has walls.” I hope I haven’t misinterpreted her meaning.

Conclusion: I enjoyed reading and enjoyed the atmosphere of the book. None of it is relevant to me as a historian except that fitting the story into contemporary surroundings, fearing the Muslims and dreaming of living in heaven, helped me share in Revelation’s original flavor. Yet I cannot give it five stars because, should it be read by the wrong audience, it would stimulate distrust rather than understanding between religions and nations.

★★★★★

This is a fantastic book idea! Nearly half of America’s scientists believe science and religion are compatible. So, let’s take believing scientists from the three major monotheistic religions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—and get them to talk about evolution. Why the evidence forces them to acknowledge a 13.7 billion year old universe and a human race that evolved over nearly 4 billion years, and then how they reconcile this scientific evidence with the Bible.

The first half of the book, which discusses the evidence for planetary and biological evolution, is interesting but not as strong. All readers will presumably be interested in religion, but not all will be interested in science, and I think this section could have been summed up more succinctly. Ten pages for each of the three writers would have been sufficient.

The second half, however, is superb. Let me give you a sampling of each writer.

Christian scientist Howard Van Till: Howard has learned to respect scripture in a new way. Claims of divine inspiration and infallibility are unwarranted. Many people, he surmises, will find this disappointing. But for him, it “feels like a load has been taken off my shoulders.” He now recognizes the Bible as “storied theology,” creatively crafted stories shaped by a deeply theological agenda.

Trying to reconcile Genesis with what we now know about our origins is “wrong, wrong, wrong. This wonderful bit of dramatized theology should never be mistaken for some primitive version of Big Bang cosmology.” Concordism, says Howard, is a failed strategy.

Jewish scientist David Kay: We are wrong to dismiss our ancient ancestors as primitives. These guys knew the rains came (or didn’t) regardless of the faithfulness of their fellow Hebrews. Readers of the Torah back in the day knew better than to take it literally, but rather sought in its pages a deeper lesson.

“If reality doesn’t conform to Scripture, don’t assume either is wrong: the problem isn’t reality or Scripture; the problem is your own understanding of one, the other, or most likely both.” Rabbinic interpretation finds ways to understand sacred text that are both reverent and relevant.

Muslim scientist T. O. Shanavas: Thankfully for more conservative readers, they may find more of a kindred spirit in Shanavas, who definitely believes in the Genesis story. Not that Shanavas disagrees with evolution; on the contrary, he argues convincingly that the Qur’an describes our evolutionary beginnings much more directly than the Hebrew Bible. Genesis is accurate, but Adam and Eve should be understood not as a story of biological origin. Adam was the first spiritual man.

Prepare to be astounded as Shanavas digs up ancient Muslim thinker after thinker who describes natural selection and the creation of man in evolutionary terms. These guys pre-dated Darwin by as much as a thousand years! Yikes, while we Christians were fumbling around in the dark ages, were the Muslims beating us to the punch? Many of us still remain in the dark, and it’s time we realized that, in a number of ways, we can remain Muslims/Christians/Jews without rejecting the scientific discoveries which should leave us in awe of our world.