The new book from Emergent Village is filled with dangerous ideas—and not in a good way.
The Justice Project (Baker Books 2009), new from Emergent Village, is edited by Brian McLaren, introduced by Jim Wallis, and hailed by Shane Claiborne as “a choir for social justice that makes the prophets smile.” Unfortunately, in this collection, editorial reach seems to have exceeded authorial grasp: of the dozens of essays assembled here, most are simply rather shallow restatements, while the remarkable few stand out more for heretical deviation than genuine development.
The unremarkable many—from Padilla, del Rio, Paris—rehearse the overwhelming biblical theme of God’s passion for justice, developing it in obvious directions: justice means caring for the poor, rectifying past wrongs, freeing oneself from greed. Micah, Paul, Jesus loved justice. Of course, there is nothing objectionable in restating a classic theme, except that even these treatments are marred by a tremendous historical ignorance: with rare exceptions, the authors brush past 120 years of Catholic social thought (from Rerum Novarum in 1891 to the recent Caritas in Veritate), the powerful tradition of 19th century evangelical voluntary charities, the flowering of fraternal orders in medieval Europe, and virtually any Christian reflection on justice between the apostolic age and the twentieth century. The result is a work that—for all the Emergent movement’s claim to ecumenism—is tremendously uncharitable to virtually every period of church history before our own.
Of course, the truly noteworthy entries are a different matter altogether, ranging from trendy overtures to postmodern writers to troubling conflations of the gospel with identity politics. Consider Tom Jones’s claim in “(De)constructing Justice”: “the postmodernists...argue that absolutist answers lead to fascism. But humble, circumspect answers lead to peace.” Likewise, in his Introduction, McLaren informs the reader that for Jacques Derrida, “justice was the one un-deconstructable reality that guided all deconstruction.” But this supposed connection between a “hermeneutic of suspicion” and earthly justice is simply risible: it was the syncretist, “tolerant” Romans who built an empire founded upon violence, and were in turn peacefully “conquered” by Christianity’s dogmatic, intolerant commitment to the primacy of charity.
Moreover, a number of contributors join “post-colonial” and “liberation” theologians in linking the gospel to racial strife. Of course, there is plenty to say about the biblical cry for a Church from every tribe and tongue, but that does not seem to interest these authors. Rather, a seething resentment of affluent, white Christians animates passages such as this, from Peter Goodwin Heltzel’s essay on the Holy Spirit: theologians must continue "dislocating the emerging conversation from a white colonial modernity and relocating in the freedom struggles of black and brown Christians."
Still more worrisome is Anthony Smith’s bizarre defense of "the so-called inflammatory Africentric preaching of Rev. Jeremiah Wright ...which has a long-standing presence in the black church tradition." He expresses disbelief that Wright—famous for publicly shouting, “God damn America!”—was "labeled ‘racist.’” It strains credulity to imagine that Smith's argument—which likens white Americans to demon-possessed prisoners of a racist "system"—advances the work of racial reconciliation one inch.
For this reviewer, the obvious (and biblical) first step in such an arduous process is for Christians across racial, ethnic, and social boundaries to worship and fellowship together. Despite the achievements of the civil rights movement, 11 am on Sunday is still, in the lament of MLK Jr., "the most segregated hour of the week." Such a clarion call is conspicuously absent in Smith's essay; that, coupled with his approval of the shameful polemics of Wright and his ilk, makes this an altogether unhelpful contribution to an important debate.
Smith at least belongs to a recognizable intellectual movement: Bart Campolo’s astounding claims in, “Just Elections,” lack even the virtue of bad company. For Campolo, “There is only one voting issue of ultimate significance: campaign finance reform.” Yes, you read that correctly. “Our energy and environmental policies,” he insists, “are largely determined by oil and manufacturing interests…our gun policies are largely dictated by the NRA,” and the only way to restore democracy is to remove corporate influence from politics.
The Justice Project finds room for a final category of heresy in "Just Religion," by Samir Selmanovic, who bewilders at every turn: "I believe that Jesus offers grace to every person of every religion ... I have come to believe that to deny God's full involvement and presence among the other ... re-enacts Peter's denial of Christ." As evidence of positive change, Selmanovic cites studies that find that "seven out of ten Americans, Christians included, agree with the statement that many religions, not just their own, can lead to salvation."
It is difficult to discern just what lies behind these gnomic platitudes. Consider the resigned dualism of Theravada Buddhism: is Selmanovic really suggesting that such beliefs are at all compatible with the Christian proclamation of a good creation redeemed by Christ's life and death? The advent of Christ was a declaration of war on the powers who rule over fallen time, holding men in bondage to lies. Jesus said, "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword" (Matt. 10). Christians redeem culture whenever possible—and there is much that has been redeemed, from neo-Platonism to Christmas trees—but only and always insofar as it will submit to the absolute lordship of Jesus.
For all its talk of a radical shift out of captivity to modernity, The Justice Project—like the “postmodern” thinkers it lionizes—falls short precisely by being too modern. As it rejects magisterial and creedal traditions in favor of a “conversation” in which every participant posits his own vision of the faith, the emerging church too often consists in heat without light, conviction without discipline, motion without direction. It identifies the corrupting influence of Enlightenment individualism, but seeks to be a community of individuals absorbed with personal journeys. A more radical departure would reject the very model of freedom that makes global consumerism possible; but perhaps to be “emergent” is to embrace just this sort of freedom.
