The Craig/Lüdemann Resurrection Debate

Last week I asked the question of whether belief in the resurrection of Jesus is justified and referenced the book, Jesus' Resurrection: Fact or Figment?, edited by Kreeft and Tacelli. Here are my thoughts on that book.

The core portion of the book is the transcript of a 1997 debate at Boston College between William Lane Craig, a Christian philosopher and apologist, and Gerd Lüdemann, a German New Testament scholar. Tom Wright has also debated Lüdemann on this subject (though I have not been able to find a transcript), which added to my anticipation of the book. The book is comprised of four responses to the debate, two siding with each opponent, followed by response essays by both Lüdemann and Craig.

I expected to find strong arguments from both debaters, since each is highly respected in his respective field. I hoped to be challenged on some points, and be forced to think through the relevant issues related to the resurrection. I anticipated a straightforward and objective book.
Unfortunately, I was disappointed with the actual content of the book. Beginning with the debate portion itself, it seemed that Craig was clearly the better debater. In his opening statement, Craig laid out his argument and then critiqued Lüdemann’s position before it had even been given. This one-two attack and counter-attack seemed to throw Lüdemann mentally off balance. In a total spirit of confusion, Lüdemann tried to alter his opening statement on the fly to be more responsive to Craig. Perhaps he figured that he was already going to address the issues, so why not rearrange them to correspond with Craig’s four “facts”, critiquing Craig’s argument while laying out his own. Unfortunately, he succeeded in neither. This made for an awkward rebuttal for Craig, who had been given no real opposing position to respond to.

I personally felt that the debate gave a good show of Craig’s debating prowess, and left little room for the facts to do their own job. In short, I felt cheated. It could have been a much more satisfying debate for everyone had Lüdemann spoken first instead of Craig, which would allowed us to hear his original opening statement in full. Alternately, Lüdemann could have been given time for his first rebuttal before his opening statement.

In the book as a whole, the editing favored the Christian position in several ways. First is the imbalance between philosophy and New Testament scholarship. Craig, a philosopher, had his argument strengthened by Gundry, a New Testament scholar. Lüdemann had no similar support on the philosophical side. Second, the editors chose a debate that had already been conducted. They already knew that Lüdemann had faired poorly. Third, the editors framed the book at the start with an introduction that emphasizes the Christian implications of the debate. I’m not sure that a non-Christian would be in agreement with Copan and Tacelli about the importance of the issue. (It is primarily Christians that are interested in these sorts of debates, as demonstrated by a brief glance at reviews of this book on amazon.com.) Finally, the book was framed at the end with Craig’s essay rather than Lüdemann’s, even though a strictly objective arrangement would likely follow their order in the debate.

This book can establish a grid for later reading on the resurrection. However, parts of the grid, especially the non-evangelical perspective, will need to be supplemented with more substantial books. A stronger case can be made against the resurrection than this book presents, so we should not be led to think that Lüdemann has given us the best that a skeptic has to give. Lüdemann’s concluding suggestion for a “new language of interpretation” (158) is particularly troubling. Looking to the gnostics for his inspiration, he states that “one’s stability is not assured by trust in the creator but rather is threatened by it… [T]he Gnostic idea of the unwavering race opens up an area of stability, steadfastness and depth – in short a ground on which I can stand in the struggle and mystery of life into which all of us have been thrown.” (161) He is not far from Anton LeVey’s vision for humanity as presented in The Satanic Bible. This sort of spirituality is blasphemous to the theist, bizarre to the naturalist, and unlikely to win either.

Roger Olson's Postconservatism

Last week I checked out Roger Olson's new book, Reformed and Always Reforming. Ironically, I found it in the library at our local fundamentalist college. I may not have picked it up otherwise, but I was so surprised to see it on their shelves that I had to read it.

The book is essentially a manifesto for postconservatism, a term with Olson essentially coined. Olson defines postconservatism mostly in reference to conservative evangelicalism, which he believes is dominated by theologians that are obsessed with setting boundaries and tightly defining what it means to be an evangelical. Conservatives, he argues, are almost always opposed to fresh theological proposals and operate from a reactionary standpoint towards any revision of classical doctrines.

Postconservatives on the other hand are open to new ideas. They tend to be frustrated with theological systems that confine theology to head knowledge (which consensus has unfortunately labeled 'propositional truth'). Without rejecting the intellectual component of theology, postconservatives want to refocus theology on heart knowledge and our response to God. Postconservatives are more concerned about orthopathy (right experience, referring, I assume, to the need to be 'born again') and orthopraxy (right action) than with orthodoxy (right belief).

One can sense that Olson is frustrated with the reactions he has received from the theologians he has grouped under the conservative banner, including Millard Erickson, Wayne Grudem, D.A. Carson, and J.I. Packer. Olson's tone sometimes conveys the message that he just wants these guys to stop picking on him. Though I agree with him that conservatives often go too far in their reactions against postconservatives, Olson's focus on their differences makes it more polemic than necessary. He lacks the nuance of a postconservative like Kevin Vanhoozer, and draws more fire upon himself as a result. "Some [conservatives] have expressed harsh criticism, if not condemnation... of [another postconservative's] theological project while embracing and applauding Vanhoozer's. The fact is they are very similar." (121) Hey playground bullies, he shouts, shouldn't you be picking on him too! That's not fair!

That is not to say that he is necessarily wrong in his appraisal of the reaction from conservatives. In reference to Open Theism, his observations are right on: "It seems to me that conservative evangelical reaction to open theism has been nothing short of hysterical... All in all, it seems that the open view of God needs much more careful study and dialogue among evangelicals, whereas many conservatives seem to wish to halt study and dialogue and focus energies on drawing boundaries that exclude open theists from evangelical communities." (125-6) Amen.

Olson does a good job of commending postconservative theology, especially to those that are disenchanted with the similarities between fundamentalism and evangelicalism. The book functions as a sort of 'on ramp' to progressive evangelical theology. Or, to alter the metaphor slightly, he effectively draws the map of what he considers postconservative theology. It is no surprise the Yvette recently came away from the book with a massive reading list. Olson marshalls an impressive array of theologians in at least partial support of his program: the late Stan Grenz, Alister McGrath, Kevin Vanhoozer, Henry Knight III, Clark Pinnock, Miroslav Volf, and F. LeRon Shults.

Unfortunately, Olson draws and redraws and redraws the map several times. Readers are re-introduced to Stan Grenz an Kevin Vanhoozer four or five different times. He examines several aspects of postconservative theology in turn, often repeating himself each time. For instance, he mentions Grudem's (inaccurate) list of thirty-four conservative theologians four separate times (pp.9, 21, 173, 188). The book has about 125 pages of valuable information stretched into 237 pages. If he were fun to read (like N.T. Wright for instance) I wouldn't mind so much, but the last hundred pages or so were a chore rather than a delight to read.

The biggest flaw I can see with Olson's view of postconservative theology is that in attempting to straddle between liberal and conservative soteriologies, he ends up falling into a chasm of inconsistency between them. He states, "where right experience (orthopathy) and right spirituality (orthopraxy) are present in Jesus-centered living, authentic Christianity and even evangelical faith may be present even if doctrinal correctness is not yet fully present -- provided that movement in the right direction is clearly discernible." (84) In other words, you don't have to be orthodox to be a Christian, just moving towards orthodoxy. But he provides no reasons for this to be so. If salvation is dependent on an experience with God alone, why assume that such an experience will necessarily lead one closer to orthodoxy? If orthodoxy is an important component of salvation, then why simultaneously deny its importance. Either orthodoxy is necessary or unnecessary for salvation. In this matter, postconservativism has either moved too far from conservatism or not far enough. One senses that this is a vestige of conservatism that Olson is (inconsistently) not prepared to part with. Thus to liberals, postconservatives are still conservative in every sense that matters.

Book Review - Gracism: the Art of Inclusion

I just finished the book Gracism by David A. Anderson, pastor of Bridgeway Community Church and a former staff member at Willow Creek. I would probably never have read it, but I forgot to cancel my selection of the month with IVP book club, so it showed up on my doorstep. I thought it was another book on the doctrine of grace, which, quite honestly, I have no real desire to read. What I didn't catch was the play on words, combining grace and racism.


I grew up in a small Wisconsin town where I was a racial minority because I was a non-Norwegian Caucasian. It was not until I started meeting people of other races, specifically African Americans, that I began to become prejudiced. The reason? I feel like the race card is perpetually played against me. I have come to believe that if I ever act negatively towards someone that happens to be African American, I will be accused of being racist. I hate that. I mean I really hate that.

Anderson helped me understand aspects of race relations that I never understood before. Here is how he begins his book:

Maybe you have heard of the social experiment in which ten people were to interview at a company. Before they went to the office for the interview, a red dot was painted on one cheek of each interviewee. Each interviewee was to go into the office and sit across the desk from the interviewer. After each interview, the interviewee was debriefed. Each of the ten interviewees stated that the interviewer kept staring at the dot on his or her cheek.
Here's the kicker: Out of the ten who received a painted dot, five - unbeknownst to them - were actually given a clear dot that was not visible on their skin. Yet they still felt as if the interviewer was focusing on their dot. From this experiment we learn that people feel self-conscious about whatever makes them insecure.

This illustration helps me understand race issues in a new way. It helps me understand why some people perceive me to be racist even when I'm really not. It helps me recognize that the real problem is not one of "reverse racism", but rather perception that many black folks have that race is a liability for them, a red dot, if you will.

Anderson's solution for race problems is in recognizing the God's preferential treatment for the underprivileged. The privileged often discriminate against the underprivileged, and in reference to race, this becomes racism. Anderson suggests that privileged Christians (and this will include almost all of us in at least one circumstance) must discriminate towards the underprivileged by extending extra grace. He defines gracism as "the positive extension of favor on other humans based on color, class or culture." I think he is right on to suggest gracism as a big part of the solution to race problems.

Following 1 Corinthians 12, which Anderson makes a compelling case for reading in terms of racial tensions, he suggests we adopt seven sayings towards racial others:

1. "I will lift you up" - giving special honor to minorities.
2. "I will cover you" - helping minorities save face in dishonoring situations.
3. "I will share with you" - refusing to accept special treatment simply because we are not in the minority.
4. "I will honor you" - giving greater honor to minorities.
5. "I will stand with you" - rejecting divisions based on race.
6. "I will consider you" - showing equal concern for those who are different.
7. "I will celebrate with you" - rejoicing with those who are different.

Though I think Anderson has a great message, the book has the feel of a twenty minute message expanded into a 160-page book. I'm still not entirely sure what the difference between the first and fourth sayings. And some of the illustrations seem forced, like the story of his friend Rick, whose flight together with Anderson was delayed, and who chose to fly economy with him instead of wait for a later flight where he could have flown first-class. This is supposedly an example of saying three, refusing to accept preferential treatment. I thought it was an example of someone taking the quicker flight.

Nevertheless, at only 160 pages, it is a quick read and well worth it. It makes me want to consider ways I can be a gracist in my day-to-day life.