Am I “Neo-Orthodox?”

Recently a student with whom I am very friendly (i.e., no adversarial relationship) informed me that he was warned–by someone not entirely supportive of his studying with me–that I am “neo-orthodox.”

The context of his well-intentioned comment was our class discussion of the theologies of Barth and Brunner. I was explaining what I regard as strengths and weaknesses of their theologies and together we, the class, were talking about how social context inevitaby shapes (not determines) theologians’ ideas. I believe, for example, that Barth’s infamous “Nein!” to Brunner about natural theology was strongly influenced by his time teaching in Germany and his encounters with the “German Christians” who looked to Hitler as a new messiah. Barth traced that back to an openness to natural theology (Of course, by “natural theology” Brunner did not mean what Barth meant by it; he only meant a point of contact–the imago dei–for the gospel in every person.)

I’ve never really thought deeply about whether I am “neo-orthodox,” but this wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it as a kind of accusation.

Some years ago I was contacted by the then president of the Evangelical Theological Society who asked me to deliver a plenary address at the next year’s national annual meeting. He wanted me to confront and even contradict the ideas of Bart Ehrmann about there being (according to Ehrmann) no one “orthodoxy” in the early church. I explained to him that I have never been a member of the ETS and do not believe in the inerrancy of the Bible. He assured me that is no obstacle to delivering a plenary address. He mentioned several noted scholars who are not generally considered evangelicals who have done that. So, I agreed and it was set.

Very soon after that telephone conversation I received an e-mail to the executive committee of the ETS from the president informing them that he had invited me and I had accepted the invitation. It was one of those group e-mail messages to about ten people. My e-mail address was among them. All the rest were members of the ETS executive committee. Apparently they did not notice that my e-mail address was among theirs and all of them simply pressed “reply to all” and began criticizing the president for inviting me and accusing me of being, among other things, “neo-orthodoxy.”

So I simply pressed “reply to all” and challenged some of the more specific things they were saying about me and asking for their reasons. And mentioning that the president had said one does not even have to be a recognized evangelical scholar to deliver a plenary address.

Of course, I was immediately dropped from the group discussion. I assume they went on bashing me because the next day I received an e-mail from the president informing me that he reluctantly had to withdraw the invitation even though it was his perogative to organize the plenary addresses.

Some of the executive committee members were people I have known for many years; I was shocked at their hostility towards me.

The most interesting part of this incident–to me–is that out of it came a rather lengthy e-mail conversation with the president-elect of the ETS–the dean of a large, conservative seminary. We talked about “biblical inerrancy” and related matters. I informed him that, given all his qualifications of “inerrancy” I could believe in it, too. I just think the word is intellectually dishonest–given the many qualifications that no ordinary person would guess at. After several e-mail exchanges we agreed that we probably held the same view of Scripture’s accuracy but only disagreed about whether “inerrancy” is a good word for it. Then I asked him the sixty-four thousand dollar question: “Given that you and I agree about the real nature of Scripture’s accuracy and only disagree about the helpfulness of the word ‘inerrancy’ to name it, can I join the ETS?” (Membership in the ETS requires affirming biblical inerrancy.) He said no; you have to affirm the word. Interesting.

So am I “neo-orthodox?” Well, I don’t think it really matters–partly because the label is so essentially contested. There does not seem to be any standard meaning. It is somehow linked to especially Emil Brunner’s theology. But what part of his theology does it name?

I usually tell students that I THINK it has usually been understood as naming his (and Barth’s and others’) idea that the Bible BECOMES the Word of God, but I have found something very similar in both Luther and Calvin. I agree with evangelical theologia Donald Bloesch–and have said so even publicly many times–that the Bible IS the Word of God AND becomes the Word of God. It IS the Word of God insofar as it is supernaturally inspired; it BECOMES the Word of God when God uses it to call a person to decision, faith, and uses it to bring a person into encounter and communion with God through Jesus Christ. It is “perfect with respect to its purpose” without being flawless in every detail. And it is not a “not-yet-systematized systematic theology” (a la Charles Hodge). It is a theodrama from which we derive doctrines but all doctrines are human interpretations of God’s revelation of HimSELF in and through Scripture which is, as Luther said, “the cradle that holds the Christ.” And especially authoritative in Scripture is that which “promotes Christ” (was Christum treibt).

Does that make me “neo-orthodox” or “Lutheran” or….?

I think “neo-orthoox” is meant as an insult when thrown at a biblical scholar or theologian or even a pastor by “conservative evangelicals” (many of who are really neo-fundamentalists in my book). Fortunately, it didn’t stop my very excellent student from coming to study with me and my colleagues. I’m not sure people who use it that way even understand it correctly and by that I mean historically-theologically.

If being called “neo-orthodox” puts me in the same “camp” as Barth and Brunner, Bloesch and (Bernard) Ramm, then I consider it a compliment even thought I do not agee with everything any of them wrote. I don’t even agree with everything I have written!