A Pentecostal Political Theology for American Renewal

Spirit of the Kingdoms, Citizens of the Cities

Steven M. Studebaker

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781137480163
• Topic: Teologia e religione
• Subtopic: Cristianesimo

This book argues that Christians have a stake in the sustainability and success of core cultural values of the West in general and America in particular. Steven M. Studebaker considers Western and American decline from a theological and, specifically, Pentecostal perspective. The volume proposes and develops a Pentecostal political theology that can be used to address and reframe Christian political identity in the United States.
Studebaker asserts that American Christians are currently not properly engaged in preventing America's decline or halting the shifts in its core values. The problem, he suggests, is that American Christianity not only gives little thought to the state of the nation beyond a handful of moral issues like abortion, but its popular political theologies lead Christians to think of themselves more as aliens than as citizens. This book posits that the proposed Pentecostal political theology would help American Christians view themselves as citizens and better recognize their stake in the renewal of their nation. The foundation of this proposed political theology is a pneumatological narrative of renewal—a biblical narrative of the Spirit that begins with creation, proceeds through Incarnation and Pentecost, and culminates in the new creation and everlasting kingdom of God. This narrative provides the foundation for a political theology that speaks to the issues of Christian political identity and encourages Christian political participation.

© The Author(s) 2016

Steven M. StudebakerA Pentecostal Political Theology for American RenewalChristianity and Renewal - Interdisciplinary Studies10.1057/978-1-137-48016-3_1

Begin Abstract

1. Introduction

Steven M. Studebaker¹

(1)

McMaster Divinity College, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

End Abstract

The Bible tells a tale of two cities—Babylon and Jerusalem. Two cities locked in a titanic struggle that defines the course of cosmic history. Babylon stands for everything evil and vile. Satan wears the purple in Babylon. Satan is its Caesar. Jerusalem is the city of light and love. Christ is Lord of Jerusalem. Christians are servants of Christ and citizens of Jerusalem. The relationship of the early Christians to the state reflects the hostility between the two cities. They were an illegal sect and periodically persecuted. Most came from the under classes. Later the movement became more mainstream drawing from a range of social classes—for example, Saul of Tarsus and Philemon. Like Jesus, the majority of first-century Christians, however, lived on the margins of Roman society. Jesus came from a small city on the eastern edge of the Roman Empire. The disciples came from the underbelly of the empire. They were outcasts of mainstream society. They lived in, but were not of, the Roman Empire. The relationship to the state for many American Christians bears little resemblance to their early church counterparts. They are of the empire. They are its doctors, professors, politicians, business people, skilled workers, nurses, and teachers. They may pine for heaven, but they live in San Diego, Seattle, Minneapolis, Chicago, Atlanta, and Orlando—the cities of the American Empire. American society, Babylon, is not a foreign city, but their home and natural habitat. Far from the margins, they are part of the mainstream imperial order. They are implicit imperialists. Almost every aspect of their lives contributes to the life of the most powerful empire ever to bestride the globe.

Like or despise it, America is the dominant power of not only the West but also the Rest. Go almost anywhere in the world, from Bangkok and Beijing to Rio de Janeiro and New Delhi, and you will find American corporations, food, clothing, and music. American ascent caught headwind in the late nineteenth century. By the end of the Second World War, America was the flagship western power. The sun had set on the former standard bearer, Great Britain. The collapse of the Soviet Union made America the global superpower.¹ But America appears to be a sprinter not a marathon runner in the game of world empire. Barely 60 years after leaving Britain behind, America teeters on the brink of decline. It staggers under unsustainable public spending and debt, economic malaise, demographic decline, expensive but ineffective military power, and, perhaps most significantly, a lack of confidence in or an ignorance of the cultural values and practices that propelled its success. American decline, moreover, is just the latest episode in the descent of the West. Global Trends 2030, by the National Intelligence Council, forecasts the western ascendancy that began in the mid-eighteenth century is passing. Economically and politically, Asia is rising.² Niall Ferguson argues that although the twentieth century is often told as the triumph of the West over the Rest, it is better understood as the resurgence of the East over the West, a global “reorientation of the world” that began with the Japanese defeat of the Russian fleet at the battle of Tsushima in 1905 and underway today in the exponential growth of Chinese power.³

How should Christians understand their life in the American Babylon and its relative decline? American Christians are citizens of Babylon—the USA. But not all Babylons are the same. Consequently, they must consider the prospects of their nation relative to the alternatives. Christians are, in one sense, against all Babylons. They are for the New Jerusalem. They are not, however, against civilization itself. Christians are citizens of two cities—Babylon and the New Jerusalem. Aliens to the way of Babylon, but not to the life of the city. Agents of the coming kingdom, they participate in God’s redemption of creation. They also live in a world distorted by sin. Two narratives, therefore, structure their lives. One is a story of God’s coming kingdom, the other of a sin-broken world. Which one is fundamental? Does Babylon or the New Jerusalem provide the storyline for the Christian life? The New Jerusalem does. But Christians can serve Babylon because the life that takes place in the cities of this world will be renewed in God’s coming kingdom. Babylon is passing away. The New Jerusalem is emerging. Participating in culture, the life of the city, foreshadows the more fundamental story—the redemption of creation and the establishment of God’s city and civilization.

Discerning which empire or civilization offers the best alternative for flourishing life is the challenge. America is Babylon. It is evil. But not totally so. Considering American decline, the question is not whether America is a Christian nation or an incarnation of Babylon, but whether or not it is better than its rival Babylons? How should American Christians respond to American decline and understand their identity as Christians and Americans? How should they think, pray, and work toward the prosperity of their country vis-à-vis other nations? Addressing these questions is the goal of this book. My resource for developing a political theology that speaks to Christian identity in Babylon and American decline may seem an unlikely one—the Pentecostal tradition. What is the pathway from the Pentecostal movement and its theology to a political theology for life in this world that supports cultural engagement for renewing American society and its global leadership?⁴

Pentecostal Bearings for Political Theology

The early Pentecostals, like their early church counterparts, came from the margins of society. The Holy Spirit gave tongues to those who were voiceless in mainstream culture. The early Pentecostals predominantly came from the rural and urban poor.⁵ Their leaders were sidelined from or pushed out of established denominations. Yet, within a few generations they moved from the ecclesiastical and cultural margins to the mainstream of American society. The more the Spirit fell on them, the higher they climbed the ladder of social mobility to ecclesial and economic prosperity. Today, Pentecostalism is popular among the middle, upper-middle, and even upper classes (e.g., Attorney General John Ashcroft and the Green family of Hobby Lobby). Rather than storefronts, they prefer suburban megachurches. As American Pentecostals (especially white Pentecostals) assimilated to mainstream culture, their ecclesial triumphalism mirrored and, to some degree, grafted onto America’s national civil religion of exceptional nation.⁶

Pentecostal migration from marginality to mainstream draws attention to the paradoxical relationship between Pentecostal praxis and rhetoric. Pentecostal rhetoric is oppositional to the world, whereas Pentecostal practice is oriented to the world. Pentecostal praxis includes the collective experience and practices of Pentecostals over the past century. Pentecostal rhetoric refers to the register of Pentecostal public proclamation and spirituality. On the one hand, Pentecostal rhetoric has a separatistic and an anti-world posture. For Pentecostals, the theater was a den of iniquity, dancing was lascivious, rock and roll was a prelude to sex and drugs, and mild profanity was the first step on the path to backsliding. On the other hand, Pentecostal praxis suggests a more complex relationship to culture.⁷ Being people of the Spirit made Pentecostals people of and for the world. The Spirit of Pentecost did not lead Pentecostals into a cultural ghetto, but into the world. Pentecostal praxis, however, inclines toward cultural and ecclesial triumphalism. Assuming the prerogative of Spirit empowerment, Pentecostals expect success, measured in terms of North American consumerism and capitalism. But more important than the tendency toward triumphalism is the material nature of the Pentecostal experience of the Spirit. Pentecostals may have pined for heaven, but they expected the outpouring of the Spirit to transform their lives in concrete ways in this world.

What do Pentecostal praxis and rhetoric suggest for a Pentecostal political theology? They provide resources for a Pentecostal political theology that I call pneumatological realism. A pneumatological realism brings together the critical concerns of Pentecostal rhetoric and praxis and provides a conceptual lens for cultural discernment. Both Pentecostal rhetoric and praxis capture essential elements of not only Pentecostal Christianity but the Spirit of Pentecost as well. Pentecostal rhetoric is the reminder that we live in an eschatological liminal space; a time of the coming, but not yet consummated, kingdom of God. Pentecostal rhetoric’s world-denying register provides the critical principle for discerning the ways of life that are contrary to the Spirit of Pentecost. Pentecostal rhetoric is the warning that all nations are Babylon, including America, and thus, it protects from cultural triumphalism. Pentecostal rhetoric provides the critical principle for discerning Babylon. Pentecostal praxis affirms that the Spirit of Pentecost transforms the material conditions of life, which includes culture. It recognizes the “already” of the eschatological already-and-not-yet. But should the categories of Pentecostal praxis and rhetoric be given equal significance, resulting in a binary conceptual apparatus? No. Pentecostal praxis is the more fundamental category because it participates in the promise of the Spirit of Pentecost. The Spirit that breathes life into the world and human beings redeems that life in the new creation. The negative register of Pentecostal rhetoric relative to the world, therefore, cannot be primary. Pentecostal praxis is. It provides the principle for discerning the ways of life that embody the Spirit of Pentecost.

How does pneumatological realism relate to political and Christian realism? Political realism means that states act according to rational self-interest and to the world as it is. Christian realism, often associated with H. Richard and Reinhold Niebuhr, takes the depravity of human beings as the fundamental condition of life in this world. Although not without hope of the kingdom of God, being realistic means that the inevitable disorder of human life in this world tempers expectations for cultural transformation. In this respect, Christian realism assumes the dialectic of the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of God—for example, Augustine’s two cities and Luther’s two kingdoms.⁸ Pneumatological realism takes neither self-interest nor human depravity, but the Spirit of Pentecost as fundamental for a Pentecostal political theology. From creation, to Incarnation, Pentecost, and the new creation, the Spirit gives and renews life in and for this world. Being realistic in this sense means grounding cultural and political reflection in the narrative of the Spirit of Pentecost. Not Babylon, but the New Jerusalem, the telos of the Spirit’s work in the world, is primary. In sum, pneumatological realism is a Pentecostal political theology for discerning the Spirit of Pentecost in the midst of life in Babylon drawing on the insights of Pentecostal praxis and rhetoric.

Pentecostals, however, have not mined the pneumatological implications of their praxis. Getting to the heart, or the root (radix), of Pentecostal praxis and its correspondence with the Spirit of Pentecost is my purpose. Education, social mobility, professional success, and community contribution are fundamental elements of Pentecostal praxis.⁹ The question is “How does the material nature of Pentecostal praxis connect with the Spirit of Pentecost?” Social well-being and prosperity in the land are intrinsic to the biblical promise of the outpouring of the Spirit of Pentecost, according to the Old Testament prophets (e.g., Joel 2:18–27 and Ezek. 36:24–32). The gift of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost does not abrogate the Old Testament visions of the Spirit of God renewing the land, city, and people. Indeed, the Spirit of Pentecost fulfills them in the new creation and the New Jerusalem (Rev. 21). Pentecostal praxis, especially social mobility and institutional success, implicitly recognizes and participates in the coming new creation. The prosperity gospel sometimes distorts these expectations of biblical blessing into quid pro quo contracts between God and the believer. Despite excesses, the prosperity gospel’s root insight is correct. Grace transforms the concrete circumstances of peoples’ lives in this world.¹⁰ Scraping by in a dreary world of scarcity and mediocrity is not the promise of the Spirit. The Spirit of renewal brings abundant and vibrant life. The social mobility enjoyed by many Pentecostals is, therefore, neither epiphenomena nor a hazard to their experience of the Spirit. It can be the way they took part in the Spirit’s narrative of redemption—a story that begins with creation and finds fulfillment in the new creation and the New Jerusalem. Indeed, it can be a sign of the Spirit of Pentec...