Category Archives: Book reviews

Nicholas Wolterstorff. Justice: Rights and Wrongs.

Nicholas Wolterstorff.  Justice: Rights and Wrongs. Princeton University Press, 2008.

This is an important book, but also a bit of a frustrating book. Wolterstorff is a well-known Christian philosopher, long-time professor at Calvin College, more recently at Yale University, and currently in residence as an active retiree at the University of Virginia.

I really like his argument. He grounds justice in human rights and he grounds human rights in the inherent worth of each person.  He presents the case for seeing such an understanding in the Bible. I love that he brings the Bible to bear on this discussion, though his presentation is a bit disjointed.  He summarizes his interpretation of the biblical bases for a strong view of human rights, but then kind of leaves it behind as he turns to the philosophical tradition. It feels more like he is using the Bible as an illustration than as a fundamental source.

Probably because I am not a philosopher, Wolterstorff’s long and winding journey through philosophical argumentation did not hold my attention. I like where he ends up, but I did not find the process particularly enlightening.  One big surprise for me was his utter lack of attention to the political philosophers of recent years who have tackled the theory of justice (John Rawls gets a brief footnote early on, Ronald Dworkin gets a passing mention; Robert Nozick, Michael Sandel, Michael Walzer, William Galstone are all completely ignored). I found this lack to be surprising. By not engaging the political philosophers, Wolterstorff allows his discussion to remain on a highly abstract level once he leaves his biblical discussion.

It turns out that this book is part one of a two part work. In the midst of writing on justice, Wolterstorff realized that he needed a thorough treatment of love. He briefly addresses love here but promises a second volume that deal with it in much more detail. I look forward to this second book and believe that some of the problems I have with Justice: Rights and Wrongs (especially how abstract and philosophical it is) will be alleviated when the full work is complete.

One of the most attractive aspect of this work in my mind is Wolterstorff’s openness about his own commitments–he’s profoundly committed to social justice (having been active in anti-apartheid activism and supporting Palestinian rights in the Middle East) and he’s a deeply committed Christian who seeks to view everything through the eyes of his faith convictions.

His argument about justice, human rights, and human worth is profound and deserves careful attention. He provides bases for a Christian perspective on many of the pressing issues of our day that challenge injustice and oppression. Hopefully Wolterstorff himself and others will continue to push out implications of this understanding of justice and apply it to actual on the ground issues.

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Frank Schaeffer. Crazy for God.

Frank Schaeffer. Crazy for God: How I Grew Up as One of the Elect, Helped Found the Religious Right, and Lived to Take All (or Almost All) of It Back. DeCapo Press, 2008.

This is an fascinating book for a certain population–namely past and current evangelical Christians who have at one time been influenced by the author’s father, Francis Schaeffer. That population includes me, so I indeed did find this a fascinating book. To readers who are not familiar with the Schaeffers, I am not sure this book would be worth reading.

Francis Schaeffer made his name first of all as a Presbyterian missionary in Switzerland who in time founded a ministry called L’Abri and specialized in ministering to young adults who had religious questions–whether because of disaffection with standard Christianity or out of post-Christian Western ignorance of Christianity.  Schaeffer was known as a thoughtful person who took the questions seriously.  And his wife, Edith, gained fame due to her hospitality and ability to write engagingly about the missionary work.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, some of Schaeffer’s lectures in apologetics were published in North America and gained a wide audience.  The Schaeffer’s mission work increasingly attracted young Americans, heightening their fame.

They had three daughters and their youngest was their one son–named after his father, called “Franky” for many years, and now known as “Frank.”  As Franky came of age, he joined his father in ministry.  He helped influence Francis to exploit his popularity by joining with the emerging Christian Right in America to lead opposition to abortion and to defend biblical inerrancy.  They produced a couple of films and some best-selling books.

At the height of his popularity, Francis contracted cancer, dying in 1984–celebrated by that time primarily by his “co-belligerents” on the Right, including Ronald Reagan and Jerry Falwell.

With the death of his father, Franky began drifting, trying his hand at movie production and other media work, but without much success.  In the midst of his struggles, he wrote a novel that caught a publisher’s attention and redirected his life.  In time, he joined the Eastern Orthodox faith and continued to find success as a writer.

Crazy for God tells this story from Frank’s point of view.  It ends up being quite an exposé of his own family and of the evangelical movement that he and his father found such fame with.  Again, for anyone who has been influenced by the Schaeffers, this will be fascinating (and somewhat scandalous) stuff.

My own time as a “Schaefferite” was short–from the summer of 1975 through the spring of 1977.  I was fortunate to encounter the “progressive” Schaeffer who asserted that Christians should never be afraid of any questions, who advocated environmental responsibility, and who challenged the empty materialism of Western culture.  My own turning point came with the release of the Schaeffers ambitious film and book project that sought to apply Francis’s apologetics on a grand scale, called How Should We Then Live.  I was on a team of three Schaeffer fans who taught a class on the book and film at the University of Oregon.  There is nothing like teaching a book to help one perceive the book’s flaws.  By the end of the class, I was convinced that Schaeffer did not really know what he was talking about–and combined his ignorance with a bad attitude.

Then, as I moved to the left politically and theologically, Schaeffer became an icon in the Christian Right.  I later learned that he had begun his career as a rigid, devisive fundamentalist, a close colleague of the legendary Carl McIntire in battles among American Presbyterians in the 1930s.  Sadly, these instincts never really left him.

Frank Schaeffer portrays his father as a mostly well-meaning and caring person whose brightest moments came in his non-judgmental acceptance of the troubled young people who flocked to L’Abri in the 1960s.  Francis tragically got caught up in his bigger “mission” that moved him away from the things he truly cared about–art, beauty, creativity.

While the book is well worth reading for anyone interested in the Schaeffer family saga (Edith Schaeffer somes off much more negatively than her husband), I ended up feeling surprisingly unenlightened.  Frank throughout comes off as a pretty unattractive character (which, I suppose, is a credit to his honesty).  I really didn’t feel much empathy toward him nor interest in his own journey.

The kinds of things I would have been most interested in–the intellectual dynamics in Francis Schaeffer’s ministry–were given pretty short shrift.  Likely Frank Schaeffer never really engaged with the ideas that pulled in many questioning young thinkers to his father’s orbit.  If one were to write a history of the most interesting evangelical thinkers of the past generation, Francis Schaeffer’s impact on awakening many people’s intellectual energies would be seen in its enormity.

But such a history is not what this book ultimately is about.  It is about the rise, fall, and recovery of a pretty uninteresting person who nonetheless rubbed shoulders with many who did (for better and mostly for worse) impact our society.  As such, it’s an important artifact.

Jeff Sharlet. The Family

I really wanted to like this book, The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power. I think it is important. I had read an article by Sharlet in Harper’s a few years ago about his encounter with a secretive group of fundamentalist Christians playing power politics in the Washington, DC shadows. I also regularly read his blog, “The Revealer.”

He has a fascinating and frightening story to tell–and I think he is onto something and have no reason not to think he is a fairly reliable reporter.  He traces the development and philosophy of an exclusive and reclusive organization known as “the Family” through the life and work of its founder Norwegian immigrant Abraham Vereide and Vereide’s successor Doug Coe.

Most known for its sponsorship of the National Prayer Breakfast in DC and its work with the Christian Embassy, “the Family” as portrayed by Sharlet, has had a kind of Zelig-like existence in relation to many of the key events of the last half of the twentieth-century, showing up in key moments through its cultivation of close relationships with powerful people from around the world.

So, Sharlet has a noteworthy story to tell. However, as much as I wanted to like it, I ended up seeing this book as a loose, baggy monster that falls short of the task it sets out to accomplish. Sadly, it didn’t have to be this way. Sharlet has personal experience with the Family that adds important insights to his analysis. He has done extensive archival work in what appear to be largely untapped sources. He writes engagingly.

However, in the end, I felt frustrated with this book. It is way too long. It takes Sharlet forever to tell a story and then, often, the point of the story remains elusive. He gives extensive detail on Vereide’s early life but we are never quite given a clear sense of why. Then the last part of the book seems to completely spin out of focus as Sharlet gives us vignettes into Pastor Ted Haggard and contemporary evangelicals in Colorado Springs with no clear sense of their connection (if any) with the Family. The book peters out in the end (to this reader’s relief and annoyance) with no sense of resolution or concluding analysis.

I found myself trying to figure out what I had learned. I am sure that the history of the Family is very important. It’s influence seems highly problematic for people who care for genuine democracy and justice in our society and the wider world. But instead of hooking the reader with his own experience followed by an account the history of the Family (which Sharlet does do, though in an unnecessarily rambling and vague way) then leading to the payoff of an in-depth and reliable account of the problems of how the Family operates (both for American Democracy and for the witness of Christianity), Sharlet forgoes the analysis and strikes off into what seem to be largely irrelevant tangents into the by-ways of evangelical Christianity in the U.S.

I recommend this book only for those with a deep interest in fundamentalist Christianity and its influence in American political life. Sharlet gives us information unavailable elsewhere. But I can’t imagine the general reader persevering to the end of this book.

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Jonathan Kirsch—A History of the End of the World

Jonathan Kirsch, a writer for the Los Angeles Times, takes on the Book of Revelation in A History of the End of the World: How the Most Controversial Book in the Bible Changed the Course of Western Civilization, a best-selling book from 2006.  Though he is not a professional biblical scholar, Kirsch has certainly done a great deal of homework.  He writes engagingly and with a fair amount of passion.  However, his interpretation of Revelation is marred by a proclivity to read it in the most violence-supporting way possible–in order then to reject it.

The best contribution the book makes is to detail some of the many ways the book has been used to support extremist violence throughout the past 2,000 years.  Unfortunately, though he mentions one peaceable interpreter (Jacques Ellul), he does not engage the arguments of the wide scholarly stream that interprets Revelation as a book advocating Jesus-like persevering love as the model for Christians (see elsewhere on this website).

I share Kirsch’s antipathy toward people who justify violence by citing verses and themes from Revelation. I would prefer using Revelation itself to argue against such use, though. And I share Revelation’s antipathy, over against Kirsch, toward great human empires such as the Pax Romana (and the Pax Romana). I believe this antipathy in Revelation finds expression in ways that underwrite radical nonviolence in resistance to the systemic violence of empire. Kirsch’s sanguine attitude toward Rome hinders his ability to appreciate Revelation’s truly radical politics (neither pro-establishment or pro-violent revolution).

Kirsch has done a good job of making one strand of contemporary Revelation scholarship accessible to a general audience of educated readers. For that, he deserves praise. But because he ignores other (peaceable) streams that read Revelation with a much more sympathetic spirit (while also rejecting the violent future-prophetic views), he misses a chance to enlighten his audience even more.

Andrew Bacevich. The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism.

Andrew Bacevich has emerged as an important critic of American imperialism. He retired from the Army as a colonel and for many years was active in conservative political circles. He’s now a history professor at Boston University. In his important book,The New American Militarism: How Americans Are Seduced by War (Oxford University Press, 2005), Bacevich argued from the right as a true conservative concerned with how the military-industrial complex has corrupted and endangered American society with its imperialism.

Since that book came out, Bacevich’s credibility has, tragically, been enhanced due to the death of his son in combat in Iraq.  He has made more common cause with progesssives, and now has published The Limits of Power as part of “The American Empire Project,” a series of books featuring numerous writers more identified with the left side of the political spectrum (such as Noam Chomsky, James Carroll, and Walden Bello).

The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism is a worthy addition to this important series.  Problems identified in Bacevich’s earlier book have only intensified.  He discusses three interrelated crises in our society–the economy, the political, and the military.  With the first two, he gives a helpful if somewhat summary analysis.  It his third major discussion, of the military crisis, that the book hits paydirt.

In just 45 pages, we get an insider’s perceptive explanation of the problems that beset the American military system.  The major problem, Bacevich believes, has been incompetent leadership. He shows how military and political leaders have learned all the wrong lessons from the wars in Iraq (especially) and Afghanistan.  The lessons that have been learned (realizing that the military needs to be oriented toward the “next war” [e.g., rooting out insurgents, nation-building, and training and advising “host nation” forces], the need to empower military professionals vis-a-vis political leaders, and the need to repair the relationship between army and society [perhaps by reinstituting a draft]) are actually conclusions that will push the U.S. farther down the road of self-destruction.

Bacevich argues that instead of preparing for more effective engagement in “small wars” we need to devise a nonimperial foreign policy.  Instead of giving top military leaders more power vis-a-vis politicians, we need to find a way to develop and promote skilled leaders instead of the type who have risen in the ranks in the past generation.  And instead of expanding our military with a draft, we need to find ways to transform our professional army into a force for genuine national defense and service to the American republic (as opposed to the American empire).

Bacevich concludes, “American doesn’t need a bigger army.  It needs a smaller–that is, more modest–foreign policy” (169).

This is good stuff. All of us who oppose the Pax Americana should be grateful that Bacevich’s voice has emerged.  At some point down the road, though, after making common cause with people such as Bacevich, the Christian pacifist will recognize the need to part ways. Bacevich, in the end I think, wants to reform the system and create a kindler, gentler superpower that still relies on the power of the sword in furthering its self-interests. I suspect his reformist instincts will ultimately be shattered on the realities that our military-industrial system as its exists will never lend itself to the kind of changes Bacevich would advocate.  Perhaps then he will move further away from the idea that it is possible to have the kind of permanent military infrastructure he seems to envision and still have a functioning and humane democratic society.  Then maybe he will help in dismantling rather than reforming what we presently have.

 

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Brian McLaren. Everything Must Change

Brian McLaren is an evangelical pastor who has gained prominence in recent years as a leader in what has been called the “emergent church” movement. In his pursuit of an authentic gospel, McLaren has grown increasingly radicalized politically and ethically. Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope, published in 2007 by Thomas Nelson, provides a chance for McLaren to articulate a theologically and ethically integrated call to think carefully about the relevance of the story of Jesus for current social problems.

I’m not sure about the effectiveness of McLaren’s attempt to personalize his discussion by injecting his own experiences visiting Africa. However, there is not question in my mind that he has identified precisely the kinds of issues people of faith must be facing in our contemporary world. His term “suicide machine” for contemporary culture under the strangehold of militarism and corporate capitalism is not hyperbole.

What makes this book so important is McLaren’s effort to face head on the major systemic problems of our world in light of the life and teaching of Jesus. The book I would compare this one to is Walter Wink’s Engaging the Powers. McLaren is not the scholar or original thinker that Wink is, but he is a more accessible writer and is up-to-date (Wink’s book came out in 1992).

I really can’t recommend this book highly enough. I had the privilege of meeting Brian McLaren this past summer. He struck me as a sincere, committed Christian thinker and pastor. I am thankful he has “emerged” during these troubled times.

 

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Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals

During this “political” season, characterized by powerful and wealthy people seeking to exploit our system to expand their power and wealth, this book by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals, comes as a very welcome breath of fresh air.

As is likely obvious by the title and the publisher (Zondervan), Jesus for President, is written by two young Christians aimed at a Christian audience.  And this book needs to be read by Christians.  However, many people of good will who have written off Christian faith may find this book an eye-opener and inspiration.

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James J. Sheehan. Where Have All the Soldiers Gone? The Transformation of Modern Europe.

One of the remarkable dynamics of the past century has been the evolution of Western Europe from the scene of some of humankind’s most destructive wars to a place where now warfare seems almost unthinkable. Stanford University historian James J. Sheehan gives us an explanation of this dramatic change in Where Have All the Soldiers Gone?: The Transformation of Modern Europe.  Sheehan presents a carefully articulated, sober account of the exhaustion of European people as a consequence of the unthinkable destruction they visited on themselves–and their ability finally to begin to move decisively away from war as a way of life.

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Noam Chomsky. The Chomsky Reader.

Everyone would agree that Noam Chomsky is an extraordinarily prolific writer. Beyond that, when we begin to evaluate his work, the controversies begin. I have no idea how many anthologies of his writings have been produced (a great many, I am sure). The Chomsky Reader was first published in 1987, so in some ways it is a bit dated. Other more recent anthologies of Chomsky’s political writings exist and may be better overviews of his thought. However, sadly, much of what The Chomsky Reader contains remains of much more than historical interest.

Personally, I believe that Noam Chomsky is a wonderful gift to those of us deeply concerned with applying our pacifist convictions to the real world. This book is a more than adequate starting place to get a sense of the way Chomsky cuts through American self-delusions about our military policies and our impact on the rest of the world. Chomsky’s reputation as a wild-eyed radical seems to rest on reactions by people who likely have read little of what he has actually written. If anything, Chomsky errs on the side of dispassion in his analyses. He is very factual in his discussions, and usually provides extensive documentation.

One of the major contributions this anthology makes today is to remind us that as noxious as the policies and practices of the present Republican administration might be, the policies and practices of earlier Democratic administrations have also wrought great destruction in the world (specifically, Chomsky discusses the Johnson and Carter administrations).

One element of Chomsky’s thought that impresses me a great deal is his rigorous use of moral convictions. Though the underpinnings of his moral rigor are not clearly revealed in this book, Chomsky has discussed in other contexts the influence of his Jewish up-bringing and the continued relevance for him of the witness of the biblical prophets he studied in Hebrew school.

One fruit of this moral rigor may be seen in Chomsky’s insistence that as Americans we have a powerful responsibility to hold ourselves to the same standards we use in evaluating other cultures (e.g., the “communists” during the Cold War and, he makes clear in more recent writings, the “terrorists” today). If we hold to objective moral criteria, we will reject injustice and oppression no matter who practices it–and we will especially take responsibility for stopping the unjust and oppressive practices of our own society.

Chomsky is often labeled as “anti-American,” clearly a slander that comes from those who want to avoid taking his analyses seriously. He is simply asking Americans to seek consistently to adhere to our stated values of equality and human rights.

In this collection, the essay I found most helpful was one he wrote in the mid-1980s comparing U.S. fighting in Vietnam and Central America: “Intervention in Vietnam and Central America: Parallels and Differences.” Again, reading this most helpful analysis would cure any opponents of current American practices of nostalgia for the old days when supposedly things weren’t so bad.

The other part of the book I want to draw attention is the section containing three essays under the rubric, “The Responsibility of Intellectuals.” These essays have a timeless quality that allows them, sadly, to remain as relevant to today as when they were first written.

Glenn W. Shuck. Marks of the Beast: The Left Behind Novels and the Struggle for Evangelical Identity 

Marks of the Beast: The Left Behind Novels and the Struggle for Evangelical Identity is a helpful and perceptive book, even if it doesn’t quite deliver on the promise of its subtitle. Shuck does a nice job of describing the basic content of the Left Behind books and the theological roots of the world view that the book series conveys.

A strength of the book is how Shuck’s analysis makes clear the deeply reactionary theology underlying LaHaye’s and Jenkins’ vision of Christianity. However, in doing so, Shuck evokes questions about how exactly what is clearly a fundamentalist sensibility relates to the broader evangelical coalition in North American Christianity. At times, he does help the reader see the difference between fundamentalism and evangelicalism–but this makes his claim to speak to the “struggle for evangelical identity” more problematic.

I would have appreciated a sharper theological critique as well as more effort to place the Left Behind phenomena in the context of America’s embrace of the myth of redemptive violence. However, I recommend the book to anyone interested in a careful, objective yet critical, and perceptive analysis of what is certainly a major cultural and religious phenomenon.