Theological Imprecision = Sociological Imprecision

I’m reading a fabulous book by Christian Smith on the religion of emerging adults called Souls in Transition, and I’m really enjoying learning not only how younger emerging adults (18-23) believe today but also how their beliefs have changed since they were teenagers.  (He wrote a book on surveys from the same group a few years ago called Soul Searching.)  As I’m reading, however, I’ve had a few significant questions come up with regards to the way their questions are being asked and interpreted.

First, many of those who identified as nonreligious as teenagers now say they see religion as more important to their life and that they’re attending religious services more.  I’m curious how many of them are thinking of “religion” as actual religion in such questions vs. their non-religious views.  For example, some might have gotten involved in a group for atheists and agnostics at college and might see their identity as someone who isn’t religious as more important than it used to be.  (I know there was such a group at UNC, and I know people who were involved in it.)  Should we then have some way to filter the non-religious doing truly religious things from the non-religious whose non-religion has become more important in their lives?

Secondly, the questions about both Jesus and heaven seem very imprecise in their wording.  I realize most young adults aren’t theologians and that overly theological language could be confusion; however, I’m not sure if the questions, how they are asked, paint an accurate picture of emerging adults’ beliefs.

For example, they are asked if Jesus was “the son of God who was raised from the dead,” “an imporant human teacher but not the son of God,” or nonexistent to begin with.  Those who said Jesus was the son of God are then assumed to believe Jesus was divine.  This is a non sequitur, as many who would called Jesus God’s son would not necessarily say he himself was divine—the Arians of the 4th century, for example.

Similarly, when asked if they believe in heaven and who gets there, it feels assumed that Christians either are more conservative and believe in heaven or are more liberal and they don’t.  There are no questions, however, about the resurrection of the dead or the recreation of all things.  I think it’s probably a small number of emerging adults that would try to distinguish these sorts of beliefs from a belief in heaven, but I do feel the numbers are growing.  I definitely knew many in college who, thanks to InterVarsity staff, began to see a somewhat different picture of life after death.  To assume the options are “all people go to heaven,” “only good people go to heaven,” “only people whose sins are forgiven though faith in Jesus Christ go to heaven” or “there is no heaven,” are the only options is like asking Christians about the end times and only giving the option of a pre-tribulation, mid-trib, or post-trib rapture—when in reality many are postmillenialists, many are amillenialists, etc.  I would probably answer such a question “there is no heaven,” because that’s not the way I explain my beliefs, but if I were interviewed, Christian Smith would have realized that he was probably making some assumptions about me he shouldn’t have.

All this to say, it seems to me that while these questions tell us a lot, if sociological questions are not asked with any theological sensitivity to the actual beliefs out there, we can make some wrong conclusions.  Of course, I’m not a sociologist yet, and I don’t know if it might be important to not offer over-nuanced options as to not confuse respondents or encourage some sort of social desirability effect (if certain theological beliefs are thought be better in some way than others).  So perhaps there is a reason why questions we asked like this.  At the same time, I stand by my original perception that these questions are not precise enough to give us excellent data rather than good-ish data.

Maybe Christian Smith or some other clever person can come set us straight?

IV at Seminary

For the love of all that is good and holy, I wish I could fall asleep.  This would be really beneficial to me, seeing as I need to leave for class in four hours and will be taking a midterm this afternoon.  I can’t sleep, though, and I sure as hell don’t want to study any more until morning, so I sit here, typing away on my blog and drinking a Mike’s in hopes of making myself drowsy.

Besides my nervousness about my exam (and there is much nervousness, let me tell you), I am kept up by a ridiculous pondering: what would it be like if there were InterVarsity at Fuller?  I’m equally interested in the possibility of a grad chapter at Baylor, but since I don’t even know that I’m in yet, we’ll keep these musings to my current situation.

First, some disclaimers as to why an IV chapter (under the Graduate and Faculty Ministries division, as one of their “Religious and Theological Studies Fellowships [RTSF]“) might not be that great an idea:

* I am likely trying to replicate my amazing undergrad experience—and this is a different time and place with different people.
* The age range at Fuller and the type of student really varies, making it difficult for one fellowship to meet the many needs on campus.
* Fuller’s an evangelical institution, so there’s the question of what such a group would look like to begin with.  IV specifically states that RTSF chapters might be in secular departments of religion, mainline seminaries, or evangelical schools… but it’s an experiment that seems to have never been done.  (Seeing as the only RTSF chapter listed is at Harvard.)  Some would question the need.
* Students are “real” grown-ups now and need to take more responsibility for their own spiritual lives by joining a local church.
* The administration might not look to favorably on the idea, given that chapel, chaplains, etc. are supposed to already be meeting spiritual needs on campus.
* The cohorts of SIS and SOP might make a campus fellowship less important to some of these students vs. SOT students.

But I also can think of a number of reasons why such a fellowship could be a really, really good thing on campus:

* Most students don’t attend chapel.  Denominational chapels may bring in additional students, but when many students aren’t formally affiliated with a denomination either, many are still being left out.
* Chapel isn’t primarily student-led, nor does it create space to form relationships.
* There are few opportunities to get to know students outside of class, especially students of other schools (SOP/SIS/SOT) and levels (MA/MDiv vs. PhD) or ethnic and denominational backgrounds.
* There are many students that wrestle with difficult theological issues at Fuller that might want to wrestle with them in community.  There are also plenty of students dealing with difficult personal issues, I’m sure, but there’s no specific place to go to look for deeper fellowship.
* Ministry leaders often have trouble engaging with others on a more human level and might benefit from a context in which to fellowship with other ministry leaders.
* Having a structure encourages a culture.  That culture could be one of invitation to friendship, encouragement in mission, authenticity about brokenness, and challenge to remain both orthodox and spiritually engaged—things which I believe are harder to cultivate in each individual friend circle on campus.
* The fact is many Fuller students don’t go to church or only are involved in their churches as part of a ministry internship.

Anyway, I’m about to leave Fuller, so I’m not saying I’m about to start a new project.  But I’m interested to know how others (both at and outside of Fuller) see these things.  Is there a place for a campus fellowship at an evangelical seminary, and if so, what is it?  What about at a moderate Christian university like Baylor?

Now that I’ve gotten all of this out of my head, I’m hoping I can get some sleep.  ;o)

Answering reader questions about orthodoxy

Does orthodoxy exist in stagnation?
Perhaps not, but it also doesn’t exist apart from history.  While we can’t declare without a doubt what someone will call orthodox tomorrow, we can make a pretty good judgment about what’s considered orthodox today, as well as what was “orthodox” in various contexts and at various times throughout the past two thousand years.  If someone has been unorthodox in the Christian mind since unorthodoxy “began,” then it can probably be considered unorthodox from a historic Christian perspective.

Are Protestants orthodox?
Schism can corrupt, preserve, or have nothing to do with orthodoxy, so from breaking off, alone, we know nothing about a group’s commitment to orthodoxy, even as historically understood by the Church.  Even one that thinks Protestants have some wrong theology or that Catholics have some wrong theology can consider one or both groups “orthodox” when it comes to a lot of basic tenets of Christianity.  Clearly, determining orthodoxy is largely subjective–but considering the perspectives of those unlike us (in theology, time, or culture) can help us keep a more balanced approach.  If Catholics, Protestants, and Orthodox Christians would all (at most points in history) have considered an individual or group unorthodox, I think it’s pretty hard to make a case that they represent Christianity as understood by Christians throughout the ages.

Who defines orthodoxy?
Individuals.  Groups of people.  Whoever wants to.  What counts?  Nothing really counts as far as defining what’s truly right belief—we don’t create truth by believing it.  As far as how people should label themselves, however, I think that when you go against the historic self-understanding of a group, especially a group as diverse as the Church, you should consider ceasing use of the Christian label.

A complicated way of trying to simplify things (I’m good at that):

Catholics believe A, B, and C.
Protestants believe A, D, and E.
Orthodox believe A, F, and G.

They all claim Christianity.  And we don’t need to know which one of them is “right” right now.

If an individual believes J, K, and maybe even B and G and D but not A, should they use the label “Christian”?  To me, it is just not accurate.  All words have been subjectively assigned to concepts, but if the term you wish to use is already associated with a possibly related but ultimately different concept, why not just choose a new word?  It seems irrelevant who is truly the “most orthodox” when it’s already clear that according to any historic Christian standard, a new group isn’t.  It also becomes irrelevant precisely what Christians before all of the councils and creeds believed—for regardless of how diverse the movement began, there are certain ways in which it defined its borders, borders which have existed now for a long, long time.  Whether or not they are correct borders, they are there.

What about orthopraxy?  And what we can learn from the “unorthodox”?
Caring about orthodoxy need not mean we neglect good deeds, and challenging conversations can still happen as interfaith dialogue.  Sometimes when our beliefs are better defined, I think those conversations can be even more productive.

One Response to “When Unitarians ‘Come Out’”

A friend of mine asked the following when my post re-posted as a note on Facebook.  Others can chime in with their comments (about these criticisms/issues raised or their own critique of my thoughts), and I will try to address some of them over the next few days.  ;o)

Ashleigh, an excellent reflection. A few questions and thoughts. First, does orthodoxy exist in stagnation? I raise this question because it seems to me that orthodoxy has developed and continues to develop in the tension of multiple conversations. It was a radical concept in the book of Acts that a Christian did not have to be circumcised. It was suppose to become established “orthodoxy” that Christians would obtain from blood in food, but it could be inferred that Paul somewhat differed with this. The development of Christology is dependent on various people and views that were modified, rejected, condemned and accepted. The continual councils of RCC show in my opinion that orthodoxy is constantly being revealed by the Spirit.

My second question becomes, can Protestants be probably called orthodox Christians? I raise this b/c the logic outlined here is the same arguments that Catholics and even some of the Orthodox church used and use to argue the illegitimated of Protestants as Christians. The Reformation was a radical departure from the historic faith of its time. It is not to easy to dismiss this claim when you consider that the Protestant movement has produced probably over 50,000 denominations in our current day, and Providence knows how many throughout history.

Thirdly, for me this raises the question who defines orthodoxy? If one considers the politics of the historic councils, one could easily doubt their doctrines because the principle of Christian love is often wanton from their historical records. If one says the Book, well like any book it is still subject to human interpretation. Finally, I am personal glad we have departed in some areas from the “historic faith”. Otherwise, we are left with the argument that all women ordination are to be condemned. One could argue that we have restored the historic faith by doing this, but that is difficult argument that will lead to stalemate with those who argue the opposite….

By having people who are on the fringe and maybe on unorthodox, often challenges the faith to live up to the faith and reflect on issues that have been ignored. The faith to me can never be defined by doctrine alone but also by orthopraxy and orthopathos.

When Unitarians “Come Out”

In my American church history class this week we touched on a topic that has been a curiosity for a while: coming out as a Unitarian.

One of the questions I’ve had for a while is why people who are very theologically liberal often continue to call themselves Christian or identify by their particular denomination (Methodist, Episcopalian, Baptist, Presbyterian, etc.) rather than simple admitting that they have more in common with Unitarians.  This has been an interest to me for a couple of reasons:

First, as I listen to people with more conservative impulses (like my husband), I understand their concern with orthodoxy in the church and their frustration with many mainline denominations as of late.  I agree with them on the importance of purity in the church.  However, I also think that many who are concerned with such purity often resort to a general “nastiness.”  In my view, this helps no one.  I think we have to approach those we consider heterodox with both respect and compassion—after all, I am friends with many of them and they are kind, well-meaning people.  Lastly, I’m also concerned with simple intellectual honesty and attention to history.  I think people should be able to identify themselves as they choose, but we just have to be honest about how our self-chosen identities do or don’t line up with other realities.

Perhaps this will provoke some irritation on the part of my more liberal friends, but here are my thoughts:  In my imagination, a peaceful, productive solution to all of these concerns would be for those who have come to hold more Unitarian beliefs to self-identify that way as opposed to claiming Christianity.  This addresses concerns #1 and #3 above, for it preserves Christian orthodoxy as traditionally understood and also is more accurate.  To me, really it seems odd to want to call oneself a Christian if one is essentially Unitarian—as orthodox Christianity as historically understood is something quite different.

Additionally, if Unitarians were self-identifying, I believe concern #2 would become less of a problem.  If people we willing to self-select to exit Christianity  (either individually or as local congregations leaving denominations or even denominations changing their official doctrine and associations), it seems there would be less drama, anger, and finger-pointing on the part of those who subscribe to orthodoxy.  I’m not in any way excusing those who behave inappropriately–just saying that if nobody had to attempt to “excommunicate” you, everyone would be more likely to stay calm and remain friends.

With regards to the response of more conservative folks, there is a place, I think, for Christians to say to others that identify as Christian, “Look, I don’t think your beliefs line up with the historic Christian faith.”  In fact, I suppose I’m doing that now.  I don’t wish this to be a fight, though.  I don’t wish for more moderate/conservative Christians to get worked up into a frenzy.  I would rather we have a calm discussion of our differences, and if at the end of that discussion it seems clear that you aren’t crazy about the Bible or a literal resurrection or the Trinity, them maybe it’s time for you to claim a different religious viewpoint, since Christianity has a long history of coming down on certain sides of such debates.  Ideally, then, we could move forward with genuine interfaith dialogue.  There will always be significant theological differences among Christians, but when you move far enough away from how a religion has understood itself for centuries, I think understanding such a conversation as interfaith dialogue is more appropriate.

To finally connect this with my class, we just learned about how the vast majority of Congregationalists in the late 1700s and early 1800s became Unitarian.  At first they didn’t identify as such and were a sort of silent minority.  However, as their numbers grew, they finally “came out” as Unitarian–and pretty soon many more followed.  I asked my professor why he supposes this isn’t as common today.  Why, once Unitarianism was established in the United States, did not everyone who had Unitarian-ish beliefs just call themselves Unitarian?  Why do so many today call themselves Christian that seem to disagree with Christianity as understood by Christians up until this time?  He seems to think it’s due to social pressure.  Being Christian is still seen as the “norm” in Western culture, and many still aren’t sure if they’re ready to formally abandon Christianity, even if they already have functionally.

I’ve been pondering this situation this week, and I’ve decided another part of the problem here is that everyone wants to be able to define Christianity the way they wish–after all, we Americans are individualists.  In addition to social pressures, I think many people think that if their version of Christianity is different than traditional Christian belief, that’s fine.  They believe they should get to choose what Christianity means to them.  I understand that asking people to identify as something other that Christian has a degree of arrogance about it, since it seems to say moderates and conservatives have more right to define Christianity than those on the most liberal end of the spectrum.  I’d argue, though that the reason why anyone on either end of the spectrum (and yes, I might sometimes feel this way about far-right “Christians,” as well), should be dismissed as a “real” Christian is not due to what someone else today says, as much as what the trajectory of history says.  In my view, none of us has the privilege of completely redefining Christianity.  We can contextualize it to our time and culture, but we cannot invent a new story for the Christian faith.  In that way, I think that when any of us decides they believe something radically different from historic Christianity, it’s time to move on and choose a new label.  In my view, this not only better preserves the distinctive beliefs of Christianity, but also does justice to whatever other viewpoints are around–which deserve to be understood on their own terms, rather than as part of a confusing porridge of pseudo-Christian beliefs.

Sheep & Goats

I’ve got a new post over on Jeremiah’s/my biblioblog—check it out!

A Funny Thing

Hello readers!

Well, over the past year, I’ve had many reasons to not blog:

I met a boy.  I was preocuppied flirting with said boy and then spending every moment possible hanging out with my new boyfriend.  Then I started planning a wedding (though I did occasionally take breaks to whine about it on my blog)…

But finally, that is over.  And I want to blog again.  So here I am.

I won’t compose anything long or profound, as I have a paper to write on this lovely Saturday evening.  But I will offer a few initial thoughts on my current life situation:

It’s a funny thing being a married woman.

When I first came to Fuller I felt out of place because there were so many married people.  I thought they must look on me quite differently because of my differing life state–even if they were only a couple years older than me, I felt like a child around them.  This changed as I started making couple-friends with Jeremiah at Fuller, as well as meeting Jeremiah’s married high school and college friends.  And now I feel on the verge of normal around other married people.

But still, I sometimes feel odd.

I think now the oddity comes from feeling that even though I’m married, I still don’t necessarily “fit in.”  Or at least I won’t for long.  Out of the other young married people I know, it seems many are already having kids or think they will want to get pregnant in the next year or two and this is an odd thing for me.  We want to go do more school and don’t plan on having kids for 5+ years.  It’s hard to imagine losing my freedom earlier than that.  Additionally, as we talk to other couples, it seems most are planning for the woman to stay home at least a couple years, if not semi-permanently, while I’m hoping we can work out a happy dual-part-time-type arrangement–and we’re not necessarily against having a babysitter or using daycare so we can each do 3/4 time rather than 1/2 time, etc.  Among many white middle-class evangelicals, this seems to be a big no-no.

It shouldn’t matter to me what anyone else is doing, but I find myself wondering what those next five years will be like–and then a couple decades of parenting–especially as an evangelical woman.  I’m just hoping I will grow to appreciate mommy friends more… and maybe also meet a few other women that want to keep their careers.  (Of course, most of my friends from college are not married, so there are many potential people for that category, really.)

I may have a 2BR apartment, may have a joint bank account, may be wrapping up my first graduate degree, and may be considering buying a house in the next year…  But clearly I’m still lacking the maturity to be able to truly understand and respect other people’s decisions, as this whole baby-craze and careerlessness still rather boggles my mind.

Re-envisioning Engagement (Part 2)

Continued from Part 1.

In addition to understanding engagement as a dynamic state of being increasingly “almost married” (notably, lodged between two other dynamic states), I think we would benefit from changing at least two other elements of our view of engagement.

First, I want to contest the common view that the purpose of engagement is to plan a wedding. I think a wedding at its best is a celebration of a good thing in community. However, it seems that both the time and money required to have a wedding–or at least one that that competes with the contents of bridal magazines or our childhood fantasies–delay most marriages.

I find it telling that in a different time and culture engagement and marriage were often done quite differently. My grandparents married in the early 50s, when they were in their 20s. Mimi and Granddad met in June and started a relationship nearly immediately. They soon started talking about marriage, declared their plans more officially in December, and were married in a pastor’s home in February, with only my granddad’s family attending. (Hers lived in Chicago at the time and couldn’t make a trip to Kentucky.

While many people at the time had weddings, they did not. And according to my grandmother, this was not at all uncommon. I suppose we don’t know when most people today would get married without so much hoopla, but I find it telling that a year-long engagement is “standard” primarily because of the time needed to plan a wedding (just Google “engagement length” and check out the forums where women are comparing timelines) and that some people even opt to wait multiple years to marry to gather sufficient funds for the ceremony of their dreams.

When I asked Mimi if she thinks the rising popularity of cohabitation has contributed significantly to the lengthening of engagement, she replies with a hearty yes. People had shorter engagements and simpler ceremonies in the past, she believes, because it was culturally unacceptable to move in together or have sex without a marriage license.

I think it’s legitimate to have opinions about what you want your wedding to be like, and I don’t think it’s bad to spend time and money on some of the elements that are more important to you. However, I find it unfortunate that we put such a focus on weddings that few people feel they can get married without one of sufficient granduer. This not only creates a culture of weddings which marginalizes the have-nots (something we as Christians should avoid), but also encourages people to wait longer to get married for questionable reasons. Is a fancier ceremony really worth delaying your marriage for several more months? For some, perhaps, it is–and it’s not my place to judge them–but I feel shorter engagements would be better for many couples.

Weddings are a cultural practice, so they will undoubtedly be influenced by our cultures. We feel societal pressure to do our weddings in certain ways, and it’s not an evil thing to take part in this part of culture by following many of these norms. But we don’t need to follow every cultural convention, especially as we, as Christians, seek to do life in a way that aligns with kingdom values. And since these values include things such as chastity, commitment, generosity, and giving up status, I see a lot of pros with creating a culture of simpler, sooner weddings.

In my opinion, if you’re committed to each other and want to be married, it makes sense to go ahead and be married–and I believe we as Christians should do a better job supporting that.

Re-envisioning Engagement (Part 1)

I will eventually get better at blogging again–I promise!

I’ve never been good at being normal, so it’s probably not a surprise that I’m not a typical bride. What feminist could be? What you may not have realized is that I’m so atypical, I actually hate being engaged. And I appear to be the first woman ever to feel this way. A few Google searches have found very few results with “engagement” and “frustrating,” “hate,” or “sucks” in the same sentence, save a few complaints about military engagement in various locales.

As a teenager I frequently picked out my own birthday presents, which I don’t think is a rarity in and of itself; however, I also frequently talked my mom into letting me receive certain gifts early for one reason or another. Given my history, I openly admit, part of my disdain for engagement is a simple lack of patience. However, I also, over the past several months, have been reflecting on the significance of marriage and how it “ought to be done,” and I think some genuine criticisms can be made of how engagement/marriage work in our society, especially when viewed from a Christian perspective.

First, I would like to point out that engagement is a fairly invisible state outside of the marketplace. While temporary, everyone that is married was once engaged, yet you’d hardly even know it. Engagement seems to be nothing but a special subset of dating, tacked on at the end of the courtship process, and certainly distinct from marriage itself. Perhaps this distinction is less sharp outside of religious circles that ban cohabitation, but within evangelical Christianity, there is a clear divide. For example, churches often feature various activities for married couples, but only a few churches make certain their language is inclusive toward other committed couples. While I could write an additional post or two about the consequences this has on our evangelistic efforts (if a non-Christian couple that lives together isn’t welcome in a couple’s small group, too, what does that say about your church’s hospitality?), I want to focus here on the fact that this excludes Christians who are seriously dating or engaged who may very well be “closer” to marriage than not. And would it be such a bad thing for these couples to also be included in couples’ activities? Biblically, older men and women are instructed to mentor the younger, and many churches still emphasize the value of relationships between older and younger married couples, specifically. I argue that it would be valuable to let those relationships begin developing between couples that are married (be it for a year or for forty) and those that are still on their way, rather than waiting until vows are officially said.

In fact, it seems that Christians that heavily emphasize waiting until marriage to have sex have a tendency to heavily dichotomize engagement and marriage. The online magazine Boundless, written for college students and singles in their 20s puts it as such: “OK, congratulations, you’re engaged. What do you do now? There is really only one concept to keep in mind when it comes to engagement, and it’s quite easy. It’s simple and it should guide you in every decision, thought and act until you are standing before God, the people and the pastor on the big day. Ready? You are not married yet. Now, depending on logistical or other circumstances, cultural backgrounds, length of relationship, things other Christians might have told you, there’s another way to put this: Ready? You are not married yet. Remember that if you get nothing else out of this column.”

I acknowledge this is true, and I’m not arguing to charge Christian sexual ethics. But I do think that this demonstrates the oddity of how we talk about engagement and marriage. We insist that marriage is a good thing and bad-mouth those who are unwilling to formally commit themselves; however, when two people are ready for that commitment, we expect a long waiting period, during which–rather than helping them make mental, emotional, and practical transitions towards marriage–we will emphasize, verbally and non-verbally, that they are not at all married, no matter how married they feel or how married they want to be. To me, rather than putting a not in italics it would be much more useful for us to consider engagement a time of being increasingly almost married.

In this way, I believe, engagement becomes a legitimate state between dating and marriage, rather than simply the end of dating. Engagement is seen as a true between state that begins on the dating end of the spectrum, but quickly moves closer to marriage. Besides these questionable ways of talking about engagement, I think it’s notable that there seem to be many more books about dating or deciding to become engaged or marriage itself than there are books about the engagement process. While relatively short, it is engagement is quite common, making it odd that there is such a silence. To me it sometimes feels the only people in-tune with the existence of engaged people are wedding vendors–and this seems unfortunate. Shouldn’t we as a society, and especially we who are Christians, “see” engaged people and address them at that many diverse places they are at?

… to be continued…

Why Infant Baptism is More Than It Seems

Today I had the first discussion of baptism that I’ve engaged in since reading Paul Jewett’s book, Infant Baptism and the Covenant of Grace, and it has inspired a sudden blog post. The summer quarter has been crazy, but I do hope to get back into regular blogging.

I thought I’d share just a brief snippet I’ve learned over the past couple months through this book, as well as my Medieval and Reformation Church History class:

Growing up I never realized that infant baptism was about more than infant baptism. It’s not just about whether or not you believe babies can have faith or whether or not you think that matters. It’s not just about dunking and sprinkling and confession and commitment and community. It’s actually all about the separation of church and state.

Before I met my fiance Jeremiah I had never heard of Zwingli, but Zwingli is now in fact my favorite Reformer. Zwingli, for those of you that don’t know, lived in Switzerland pre-Calvin and is essentially his predecessor by a couple decades. He began a Reformation there which originated independently of Luther’s (as far as we can tell), while Calvin was late enough to be influenced by both. Besides his weird freak-out over church organs (“They’re not in the Bible, so we should get rid of them”!), Zwingli was a pretty awesome guy who did a good job questioning the status quo–unlike Luther, who wanted to revise a few important doctrines but was too conservative to advocate for any major overhauls. Luther changed what he needed, but Zwingli more systematically analyzed what needed to change. He looked beyond ideas like “justification by faith” and moving into things like the Eucharist, church polity, and even the decorations of church buildings.

But there was one thing Zwingli couldn’t change. He couldn’t get rid of infant baptism. He actually briefly considered the issue… but ultimately, it just wouldn’t work. Why? Because we couldn’t have citizens. The church was so tied up with the state that there was no way to make life without infant baptism make any sense. Baptism was how a baby was officially made part of a community, part of the nation.

When the Anabaptists took things to the next level, insisting that believer baptism was the only biblical form, it wasn’t just a theological issue. It was also a political issue, a church/state issue. The Anabaptists insisted the church should be entirely separate from the state, anyway. In fact, they sometimes fancied themselves the only “real” Christians, since they were the only ones who understood the real New Testament Christians had to endure persecution. The Anabaptists varied widely in the degree of their radicalism (with some wanting to take over hearts by force, with others aligning themselves with pacifism), but basically all agreed on these two things: the church was never meant to be combined with the state (as it was under Constantine) and baptism was always meant to come after a profession of faith by an individual able to make such a decision for themselves.

I hate the alliance of Christianity with power, so the Anabaptists have definitely won extra sympathy from me for the church/state issue. It surprises me that we so rarely hear about this side of the issue in churches today. It makes sense, though, that infant baptism would set up a society in which everyone assumes lots of people are Christian and large portions of them don’t have any meaningful faith. It seems that to a large extent, that’s still where we are today, unfortunately.