A Cultural Manifesto and Showcase

William Edgar

T. M. Moore, Culture Matters: A Call for Consensus on Christian Cultural Engagement, Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2007. 172 pp.

Christians have not been silent on the issue of faith and culture. Among the major initiatives of recent times we can mention at least four, though there are many more.1

The first is the Neo-Thomist movement of the twentieth century. Etienne Gilson (1884–1978) and especially Jacques Maritain (1882–1973) brought a fresh approach to culture into a struggling and fatigued Europe. Though raised in Protestant circles, Maritain converted to Roman Catholicism in 1906 under the influence of Charles Péguy, Henri Bergson, and especially Léon Bloy. A defender of metaphysics and natural law ethics, he was out of step with the prevailing critical schools and language philosophies. Maritain advocated an “integral humanism,” which was based on a high view of human nature, which in turn is derived by analogy from God the Creator. He was a principal architect of Christian Democracy, believing that a new Christendom could be achieved on condition it fully recognized diversity. He also thought deeply about the arts. Many belong to this family, including David Burrell, Bernard Lonergan, Michael Novak, Richard John Neuhaus, and even some Protestants.

The second group worth noting is the well-known assemblage of British writers called the Inklings. Meeting in the 1930s and 1940s at the Eagle and Child Pub, the group was informal and gathered to discussed literature, although they ended up interacting on all kinds of subjects. Among the members were J. R. R. Tolkien, Owen Barfield, C. S. Lewis, Charles Williams, Nevill Coghill, and Hugo Dyson.

While only a small portion of their work reflected in a direct manner on the relationship of faith and culture, what they achieved through their writings was a powerful transformation in the sensibility of many. For the most part the Inklings engaged in a Christian-flavored re-mythologizing of the world. With exceptions, the apologetics done was indirect, using fantasy and creating parallel worlds to reflect our own world and inspire readers to move into a more moral and supernatural approach to life. Many in this group have attracted wide attention within and without Christian circles, as is evidenced by the popular Narnia films, based on C. S. Lewis’s children’s stories, and of course the films based on Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.

The third group, coming from the theological approach called neo-orthodoxy, developed mainly out of American dialectical theology. Drawing from its European counterpart, this way of thinking moves from the “wholly other” God of revelation to the terrain of human affairs and reenlists many traditional doctrines to serve social criticism.2 The centerpiece for this approach is surely the landmark work Christ and Culture by H. Richard Niebuhr.3 After preliminary chapters defining both Christ (God’s Son, filled with his love) and culture (the secondary environment of “civilization” imposed on nature), Niebuhr famously develops a five-fold typology of the ways Christians have regarded culture: Christ against culture; Christ of culture; Christ above culture; Christ and culture in paradox; and Christ transforming culture. Niebuhr’s sympathies are clearly with the last position.

While the book has been the object of serious criticism, some of it fair, some not, what is often forgotten is that he was writing just after World War II when the West was concerned to rebuild a social order free from the horrors of death camps, the atomic bomb, and totalitarian rule. Many were convinced that Christian faith could do little but contribute to the problems. Niebuhr wrote to bring depth and clarity to counter this accusation.4 In any case, the book and the group represented have brought the insights of dialectical theology to bear on public life.

Last, we can cite the heritage of Abraham Kuyper (1837–1920) and the movement known as Neo-Calvinism. Its best-known advocates include Hermann Dooyeweerd, D. T. H. Vollenhoven, Klaas Schilder, Elaine Botha, Cornelius Van Til, and, less directly, Francis Schaeffer, Steve Turner, Charles Colson, and Os Guinness. In addition, the work of the tandem Walsh and Middleton should be mentioned, as well as the Toronto-based Institute for Christian Studies.

According to Kuyper, culture is the realm given by God where humankind is to rule and develop, within the unfolding process of history. In this understanding, because of the fall of the human race with Adam, human culture is unregenerate until brought under the gentle yoke of Christ. Even though God’s common grace enables the world to move ahead, that should not blur the lines. Christians must recognize the “antithesis,” the opposing principles at the bottom of all cultural development, and begin to reclaim the world for the Lord’s rule. Crucially, they must not do this primarily by promoting the church’s position as an institution, but by engaging in every sphere of society, be it the family, the state, the school, the workplace, and so forth.

The book being reviewed here owes something to several of these schools. T. M. Moore is widely read, a kind of renaissance man. He is currently the dean of the Centurions Program of the Wilberforce Forum, a initiative for leaders from Charles Colson. As the title implies, Culture Matters is a manifesto. Its goal is to ask for a consensus in the church on how to approach culture, one that can unite Christians in order to provide “a platform for pursuing the progress of Christ’s kingdom in all areas of life” (15).

Dr. Moore has issued a call to “sustain a comprehensive, timely, judicious, and broad-based critique of culture” (148). He asks for more, for positive contributions, even the transformation of culture. Such a calling is central for all believers. As far as I can tell, he sees the work of advancing culture as synonymous with the work of advancing the kingdom of God. He is concerned to show how that is best done. Indeed, the book is not so much a cultural analysis, and even less a theological or biblical exploration. Rather, it is a kind of showcase for commendable models, ones which demonstrate the best ways culture may be redeemed. Accordingly, the five principal chapters are reports on five different persons or movements in history that have advanced the cause of Christ’s kingdom in the cultural arena:

• Culture Matters: Augustine and the Critique of Contemporary Culture.
• Forging New Culture: Celtic Christian Art and the Rebirth of Culture in an Age of Darkness.
• Education for Cultural Renewal: Calvin, Geneva, and Educational Innovation.
• Foundations for a Christian Cultural Consensus: Abraham Kuyper and the Reformation of Culture.
• The Prophetic Power of Culture: The Christian Cultural Legacy of Czeslaw Milosz.

These units each enrich the reader. They are something like five dishes in a fine smorgasbord. Moore writes with enviable elegance. He manages in relatively short segments to elucidate major persons and movements, and we cannot help but be enlightened by these excellent instances.

The chapter on Augustine focuses on The City of God with its devastating critique of paganism and its pioneering work in historiography. Augustine was anxious to counter the detractors of Christian faith who blamed it for the sack of Rome. What emerges in his apologetic is the contrast of two worldviews, of two loves. On the basis of paganism, not only is thought out of whack, but so are morals. On the Christian basis, while the church is a work in progress, there is cultural amelioration. Thus, Moore argues, culture should matter.

The chapter on the Celtic tradition asserts that the God of Colombanus, Augustinius Hibernicus, and others, is present in his creation, a God whose redeeming glory must be reflected in the arts. He describes the work of sculptors, poets, and musicians from the fifth to the ninth centuries, sometimes inaccurately known as the “dark ages.” Moore has long had a passion for the culture of Celtic Christianity. He has written extensively on it and is even the Principal of a group called the Fellowship of Ailbe, which celebrates the Celtic tradition. The last part of the chapter is an interview with musician Phil Keaggy, who is thought to represent the same artistic values in a contemporary setting. Thus new culture may be forged.

The chapter on Geneva argues that Calvin not only cared deeply about education across the board, but for pedagogical method as well. Both are grounded in his overriding concern for the knowledge of God. The role of the Holy Spirit is given its due, as is the role of the church. Calvin saw the purpose of education as cultural renewal, because his desire was for a citizenry submitted to the rule of Christ in every area of life (83). Moore puts in a plea for a deeper, more transformative Christian education today. At the end of the chapter Moore describes the work of the Centurions program of which he is dean. Here, capable men and women are identified and educated for leadership in the work of the kingdom. Thus culture can be renewed.

The chapter on Kuyper is a respectable treatment of this theologian-statesman’s approach. Helpfully, Moore puts Kuyper in his nineteenth-century context, particularly citing the crisis spawned by the French Revolution and the need for Christians to interact with those radical times. He cites the well-known slogan about there not being one square inch of human existence over which Christ does not say, “mine” (101). The last part of the chapter celebrates the work of Charles Colson’s Prison Fellowship. Thus there can be Christian cultural consensus.

For me one of the most moving sections of this book is the chapter on the Lithuanian/Polish poet Czeslaw Milosz. Growing up under Communism, he developed a critique of totalitarian culture and then discovered the Christian faith, which he articulated, often indirectly, as the alternative. Because of this, and because of his extraordinary craft as a wordsmith, Milosz communicates hope to a generation that is floundering around, caught between the horns of modernism and postmodernism. Thus culture may be prophetic.

The strength of this book is its wisdom. By considering these very different cultural occurrences, each informed, even driven by a Christian consciousness, we are inspired to think and act in our own situation. Each of the virtues of the initiatives he cites, each of the possible roles for culture—critique, new art, education, transformation, and prophetic voice—steers us in directions salutary for our day and context. Simply discovering these five voices is worth the price of admission. But there is lots more to take away.

We learn of the subtle manner by which Augustine encouraged Christians to think of suffering, not in the mechanistic view of pagans, but as one of the mysterious ways that God keeps them spiritually alert (24). We learn that Celtic art was often abstract, not because the artists were incapable of copying nature, but because abstraction enabled them to incorporate other traditions, redeeming the culture of their pagan neighbors (48). We learn that Calvin could not conceive of reformation without education, the kind that was available to everyone and that addressed all the senses, not just the intellect (79). We learn that Kuyper made a strong distinction between persuasion, which in the present economy is the right way to conduct discussions with those who disagree, and coercion, which only Christ rightly possesses and will fully exercise when he comes down from heaven (102). The last chapter brings the previous five to a practical conclusion, presenting insights into working out the kinds of cultural consensus commended in the book.

This excellent volume raised a number of questions for me, mostly items that require further reflection. What is the basic principle we must follow if we are to achieve this consensus? Perhaps there is not only one. The book is full of principles, of course, but is there a meta-narrative? What is most needed (a greatly challenging task) is a definition of culture, one that grounds it in biblical revelation. At the beginning of the book, Moore makes an indistinct statement about culture as artifact, institution, and convention, but we do not learn how or where these are rooted in redemptive history. Nor is there any attempt to benefit from the vast field of culture studies (another daunting task, one that would go well beyond the goals of this little book).

Additionally, as I read, I began to wonder if there is not a sort of characterization of culture implicit in these pages, one that is uncritically assumed. We have said that for Dr. Moore advances in culture are akin to the advances in God’s kingdom. But on what view of the kingdom? Is it the kingdom as the Reformed thinkers Geerhardus Vos or Herman Ridderbos understand it? Or Anabaptist John Howard Yoder and Methodist pacifist Stanley Hauerwas? Significantly, perhaps, we are not given any idea of where redemptive history comes in. No one book can do everything, however, and we can find some answers in the subtext.

It is clear, for example, that Moore relates a good deal of his teaching to the celebration of the Creation. Yet what does he think of the so-called “cultural mandate,” and the connection made in Genesis 1 between God’s image-bearing and our calling to move out beyond the garden—to procreate, to benefit from the riches provided in the earth, to be blessed under God’s loving authority? Many Reformed thinkers would consider the cultural mandate as fundamental for the meaning of life, and, as the name suggests, as integral to the very idea of culture. It is a historical mandate: mankind is to populate the earth and engage it over time, respecting the epochs and seasons of history. The mandate is not abrogated by the fall but is enhanced and given its final significance in Jesus Christ.5 I am pretty sure Dr. Moore believes in this meta-narrative. But formally interacting at least briefly with it could help the book avoid the generally Arnoldian feeling it now carries.

The most influential culture critic before Max Weber was undoubtedly Matthew Arnold (1822–1888), who saw culture as “the best that has been thought and known in the world.” The whole scope of his 1875 preface to Culture and Anarchy—a collection of articles first brought together in 1869—is to recommend culture as the great step forward out of barbarism and its threats. Culture is encouragement, by government and through education, of human perfections. What humanity needs is to know the best which has been thought and said in the world, and, through this knowledge, to turn toward moral and intellectual freedom. The opposite of culture, then, is anarchy. Arnold was skeptical about traditional Christian faith, though he was drawn to such things as church rituals and to God as a poetic idea, as opposed to a supernatural being with definite attributes. Religion for him was “morality touched by emotion.”

T. M. Moore gives the impression he has sympathies with Arnold (apart from his views about religion, of course), though the man is never mentioned. For example, Moore berates “pop culture” as inducing decline in civility, marginalizing traditional values, and so on (120). We would have to concede that some popular culture does that. And that things are not quite so simple is well-acknowledged by him, who is after all also the author of Redeeming Pop Culture.6 Perhaps a certain interaction with popular culture studies could have made it more clear that he is not slouching into elitism. Art-critical studies today are wrestling with where popular culture fits in to the larger scheme of things and generally are coming to the view that no wall of separation exists between high and low. Cubism was fundamental to the programs and advertisements for the music halls of early twentieth-century France.7 Television and film are certainly difficult to categorize. There can be pop elements and high art elements in both. The same is eminently true of jazz music.

A parallel place is worth exploring: how may one judge good culture over against destructive culture? Certainly some pop culture is degrading. But some of it is enriching. Even ephemeral sitcoms may come with redemptive elements: Dawson’s Creek? Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Think too of some marvelously redemptive films: The Mission, The Shawshank Redemption, and so forth. Dr. Moore knows this, for he cites Phil Keaggy and the rather “popular” forms of Celtic art. But what about highbrow culture that is not particularly redemptive like Salvador Dali’s Christ of St John of the Cross, Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass,” or Hermann Hesse’s Glass Bead Game? These are artistically crafted, to be sure, but hardly positive in any Christian sense.

Cultural transformation according to the flow of redemptive history means bringing the structures of fallen creation under the lordship of Christ, advancing Christ’s norms on every realm of life. I do think this is very close to the work of the kingdom. But definitions and clear structures would be welcomed. Easily said!8 More is needed than to call for cultural awareness, celebrate the arts, and develop a certain consensus. Culture is much deeper and broader even than these good things. We need to keep working on these things, together. And, like T. M. Moore, we can do so by continuing to benefit from the work of creators and critics in the four traditions mentioned at the beginning.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the book Culture Matters. I learned heaps from it. But I just don’t want my friend T. M. Moore to fall into a sort of Arnoldian conservatism, unable to relate his views to biblical principles.  

William Edgar is a Senior Fellow of The Trinity Forum and professor of apologetics at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia.

Reviews, Arts and Culture, Faiths and Worldviews, Thu 15 May 2008