There is a certain honesty in the title I Believe. Help My Unbelief! that immediately signals both the ambition and the vulnerability of Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen’s book. Borrowed from the anguished prayer of the father in Mark 9:24, the phrase functions not merely as a rhetorical hook but as a hermeneutical key for the entire project. What follows is neither a defensive apologetic nor a diluted catechism. Instead, Kärkkäinen offers a theologically confident yet dialogically open exposition of Christian doctrine for readers who inhabit a world shaped by religious plurality, scientific rationality, and pervasive secular suspicion.

Kärkkäinen is uniquely positioned to undertake such a task. A long-standing professor of systematic theology at Fuller Theological Seminary, he is widely known for his five-volume Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, a massive academic achievement that few theologians would dare to condense. This book is precisely that condensation, though “simplification” would be the wrong word. What is offered here is rather a careful transposition: the intellectual architecture of a major constructive project rendered in a register accessible to pastors, students, and reflective believers without forfeiting conceptual rigor.

The introduction sets the tone by refusing the false dichotomy between faith and knowledge. Kärkkäinen rejects both naïve fideism and scientistic dismissal, proposing instead a chastened epistemology influenced by Michael Polanyi’s notion of tacit knowledge. Belief, he argues, is neither blind assent nor empirical certainty but a reasoned trust that remains open to testing, critique, and growth. This epistemic humility becomes a recurring virtue throughout the book and helps explain its unusual generosity toward secular interlocutors and other religious traditions alike.

Chapter 1, on revelation, is among the strongest in the volume. Kärkkäinen navigates the post-Enlightenment crisis of authority by articulating revelation as trinitarian, incarnational, and historically mediated. His treatment of Scripture as “God’s Word in human words” avoids both fundamentalist inerrancy and reductionist liberalism, framing inspiration instead as divine–human synergy. Particularly noteworthy is the comparative engagement with Jewish, Islamic, Hindu, and Buddhist accounts of revelation. Revelation here is not domesticated; it remains scandalous, yet intelligible.

Chapter 2 turns to the doctrine of God, where Kärkkäinen’s ecumenical breadth and conceptual discipline are on full display. Rather than beginning with abstract metaphysical attributes, he situates Christian talk of God within the lived realities of religious plurality and philosophical contestation. Classical trinitarian theology is presented not as an inherited formula in need of defense, but as Christianity’s most daring and constructive proposal about ultimate reality: that God’s being is irreducibly relational, communicative, and self-giving.

What gives this chapter its distinctive force is the sustained comparative engagement. Jewish covenantal monotheism, Islamic tawḥīd, and Buddhist non-theism are treated not as foils but as serious theological interlocutors. Kärkkäinen responds to Islamic critiques of the Trinity not defensively but by clarifying how, in Christian theology, relationality does not dilute divine unity but intensifies it. Likewise, his engagement with Buddhist critiques of personal theism exposes how deeply Christian claims about God are bound to incarnation, history, and relational love rather than metaphysical abstraction.

In Chapter 3, creation is explored in sustained conversation with the natural sciences. Kärkkäinen affirms evolutionary accounts without surrendering theological claims about divine purpose, goodness, and providence. Creation is not treated as a closed past event but as an ongoing, Spirit-sustained reality. The chapter’s refusal to pit faith against science gives it particular resonance for readers formed by contemporary cosmology.

Chapter 4 addresses theological anthropology, asking what it means to be human in light of evolutionary biology, cognitive science, and cultural diversity. Kärkkäinen’s insistence on the imago Dei as relational and dynamic allows him to integrate scientific insights while retaining moral and theological depth. His engagement with Buddhist and Hindu views of the self is especially illuminating, clarifying both points of convergence and irreducible difference.

Christology, the focus of Chapter 5, is treated with careful balance. Kärkkäinen affirms classical Chalcedonian orthodoxy while exploring how Christ can be meaningfully confessed in religiously plural contexts. He resists both relativism and triumphalism, presenting Christ as uniquely revelatory and salvific without reducing other religious figures to mere negations. The chapter models a Christology confident enough to listen and humble enough to learn.

Chapter 6 deepens this trajectory by interpreting reconciliation through a plurality of atonement motifs rather than a single controlling theory. This integrative approach reflects both biblical diversity and pastoral sensitivity, particularly in a global context marked by violence, injustice, and historical trauma.

The doctrine of the Holy Spirit, explored in Chapter 7, bears the marks of Kärkkäinen’s Pentecostal formation without becoming sectarian. The Spirit is presented as active not only in the church but in creation, culture, and beyond ecclesial boundaries. This expansive pneumatology reinforces the book’s overarching vision of a God who remains dynamically engaged with the world.

Chapter 8 addresses salvation with notable restraint. Kärkkäinen maps the theological options regarding exclusivity, inclusivity, and hope without forcing premature resolution. Salvation remains decisively grounded in Christ, yet its ultimate scope is entrusted to divine mercy rather than theological anxiety.

Ecclesiology, the subject of Chapter 9, is framed in explicitly public and pneumatological terms and speaks with particular force to ongoing conversations in Pentecostal public theology. The church is not imagined as a protected enclave nor as a moral lobby, but as a Spirit-constituted communion whose very existence is itself a form of public witness. Kärkkäinen resists both withdrawal and domination, articulating instead a vision of the church as porous yet identifiable, hospitable yet disciplined — a communio sanctorum sent into the world without being absorbed by it. Particularly significant is his engagement with secularism and post-secularity, where the church is called neither to nostalgia for Christendom nor to anxious relevance-seeking, but to patient, Spirit-led presence. For Pentecostal readers attentive to the public implications of ecclesiology, this chapter offers a compelling reminder that charismatic vitality and communal formation belong together.

The brief epilogue returns to the book’s governing prayer. Faith, Kärkkäinen reminds us, is always accompanied by questions, and theology at its best does not silence them but teaches believers how to live with them faithfully.

In an age marked by polarized certainties and shallow dismissals, Kärkkäinen offers something quieter and more demanding: a theology that believes deeply, listens carefully, and hopes patiently — refusing to confuse faith with the absence of questions. That may be this book’s most timely gift.

Reviewed by Ciprian Gheorghe-Luca

Publisher’s page: https://wipfandstock.com/9781725276673/i-believe-help-my-unbelief/

Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen is Professor of Systematic Theology at Fuller Theological Seminary.

From the publisher:

Kärkkäinen’s Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World is a five-volume project that aims to develop a new approach to and method of doing Christian theology in our pluralistic world at the beginning of the third millennium. Topics such as diversity, inclusivity, violence, power, cultural hybridity, and justice are part of the constructive theological discussion along with classical topics such as the messianic consciousness, incarnation, atonement, and the person of Christ.

With the metaphor of hospitality serving as the framework for his discussion, Kärkkäinen engages Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism in sympathetic and critical mutual dialogue while remaining robustly Christian in his convictions. Never before has a full-scale doctrinal theology been attempted in such a wide and deep dialogical mode.

From the Winter 2016 issue
Volume 1: Christ and Reconciliation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Christ and Reconciliation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World series, Volume 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2013), 467 pages, ISBN 9780802868534.

From the Winter 2018 issue
Volume 2: Trinity and Revelation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Revelation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2014), 486 pages, ISBN 9780802868541.

From the Fall 2018 issue
Volume 3: Creation and Humanity
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Creation and Humanity, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 3 (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2015), pages x+554.

From the Spring 2020 issue
Volume 4: Spirit and Salvation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Spirit and Salvation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 4 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 2016), xi+498 pages, ISBN 9780802868565.

From the Summer 2020 issue
Volume 5: Hope and Community
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Hope and Community, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 5 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Press, 2017), x+574 pages with indices.

A Visible Unity: Cecil Robeck and the Work of Ecumenism is a revised version of Josiah Baker’s dissertation, written under the supervision of Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen at Fuller Theological Seminary’s Center for Advanced Theological Studies. In this book, Baker argues that methods of ecumenical work express a shared ecclesiology among churches, and that as these methods evolve, the ecclesiologies of churches working together converge. To support his thesis, Baker traces the thought and contributions of Pentecostal historian and ecumenist Cecil “Mel” Robeck throughout his years of involvement in the ecumenical movement, demonstrating how specific ecumenical methodologies have led to ecclesiological convergence among divergent groups. This is a novel approach in that Baker chooses a single person who participates in multiple ecumenical initiatives as his locus of inquiry, rather than analyzing multiple persons or ideas related to a single initiative (9). Additionally, Baker’s choice of a Pentecostal voice confronts prejudices within the field of ecumenics that have excluded, dismissed, or marginalized Pentecostals, thereby allowing Robeck’s contributions to interrogate the presuppositions that have led to such a position. One of Baker’s stated goals for his book is to “canonize Robeck as one of the most influential leaders of the ecumenical movement as it entered its second century” (xi).

The chapters draw on Robeck’s publications, personal interviews with the author, and his documented participation in ecumenical initiatives. Each chapter, from chapter 2 on, focuses on a particular ecumenical methodology. Methods include reconciling memories, conciliarity, bilateral dialogue, spiritual ecumenism, and Christian forums. In chapter 1, Baker divides Robeck’s ecclesiology into three fundamental dimensions: (1) the church as a divine initiative with God as the source of its unity and power to pursue unity, (2) the church as a historical community that inherits Tradition but is also subject to social forces, and (3) the church as the people of God that cannot exist apart from all its members (28). This ecclesiological framework informs Robeck’s thought and participation, which Baker analyzes in the subsequent chapters. Chapter 2 considers how Robeck’s ecclesiology comes to bear in his work on the Azusa Street Revival, the topic for which he is most widely recognized. Such work reflects hopes of achieving racial reconciliation through the reconciliation of shared memories, enabling racially divided churches to see themselves as part of the same story and community.

Chapter 3, on conciliarity, recognizes Robeck’s role in expanding the World Council of Churches (WCC) through his participation in various assemblies and consultations as a Pentecostal. Baker argues that the methodological shift in how the WCC pursues relations with Pentecostals directly resulted from Robeck’s work as co-chair of the Joint Consultative Group at the Harare Assembly in 1998 (100–101). Bilateral Dialogue is the subject of Chapter 4. This method creates opportunities for divergent churches to discuss issues that divide them as equals, converging in their ecclesiologies around elements of a common Tradition. Examples come from Robeck’s involvement in the Catholic-Pentecostal, Reformed-Pentecostal, and Lutheran-Pentecostal dialogues.

In Chapter 5, Baker leverages Robeck’s Pentecostal identity and Patristics scholarship to understand his affinity with spiritual ecumenism. This method, which relies on shared spiritual practices, creates a bridge between Pentecostalism and other confessions, as Pentecostals also make claims of apostolicity based on the practice of charismatic gifts, not only in the New Testament but also in the Patristic period. Finally, Chapter 6 explores one of the newest ecumenical methodologies: Christian forums. Baker acknowledges Robeck’s central role in pioneering this methodology through the Global Christian Forum (GCF). The GCF was created as a common space for dialogue outside of existing church or ecumenical bodies, with at least half of the participants coming from non-WCC member churches. Informed by his Pentecostal heritage, Robeck proposed incorporating testimonies into the form. Although initially rejected, the GCF eventually adopted the practice. Baker finds that ecclesiological convergence in Christian forums occurs through testimonies, as the sharing of stories fosters recognition of the Christian other as a fellow believer.

A Visible Unity is excellently written and remarkably well-organized. Baker is meticulous in the way he structures each chapter and section, reinforcing his thesis at each seam of his argument. The result is a coherent and easy-to-follow presentation. The Introduction will be difficult for readers new to ecumenics due to its theoretical density. However, this is to be expected from a project that began as a dissertation. With many important definitions and distinctions, non-specialists will need to slow their pace before continuing to Chapter 1. After the Introduction, though, readers will notice that Baker’s prose lightens up considerably.

This is a novel contribution that centers the work of a Pentecostal ecumenist, a label some might consider a paradox. Although Baker does well to acknowledge this tension, he could have commented on additional reasons Pentecostals are averse to ecumenism, such as suspicions rooted in premillennial dispensational interpretations of apocalyptic passages in the Bible. This added background would not only help non-Pentecostal readers better understand prevalent Pentecostal attitudes toward ecumenism, but it would also help eschew broad-brushed assumptions about Pentecostals and their eschatology by showing that Robeck, though unabashedly classical Pentecostal, does not share those same suspicions. Still, the portrait Baker paints of Robeck sufficiently illuminates and nuances ecumenical and Pentecostal discourse. I recommend A Visible Unity to seminarians and specialists who are interested in ecumenics, Pentecostal studies, systematic theology, and missiology.

Reviewed by Jacob A. Palma

Publisher page: https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/visible-unity-9781978717206/

Discover more from Mel Robeck at PneumaReview.com

He has been called a boring windbag who “…deliberately sets out to be tortuous.”[1] Philip Yancy acknowledges that at times his writings have perplexed him.[2]

They are speaking about the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, whom many have call the Father of Existentialism, although he did not coin the term.

In his book, Philosophy & The Christian Faith, Colin Brown writes that “Kierkegaard deliberately sets out to be tortuous and…in order to bring his reader to the desired goal, Kierkegaard often found it necessary to be devious.”[3]

The author of over 35 books, Soren Kierkegaard’s (1813-1855) writings were mostly ignored outside of his native Denmark until the 20th century.

Anna Louise Strelis Söderquist, St. Olaf College curator of the Hong Kierkegaard Library argues that “Kierkegaard’s work still has burning relevance for us today, wherever we live and whatever our backgrounds, for he meets his reader in the inner depths, where reside the personal, yet universal questions about who one is and how one ought to live.”[4]

Kierkegaard (1813-1855) was a devout Christian who was grieved over the condition of the Lutheran church in Denmark, the State Church.

Shelley O’Hara writes, “Kierkegaard was incensed by the lack of involvement it took to be a Christian, and he felt that Official Christianity or Christendom had departed so far from the New Testament teachings that it needed to be torn down and rebuilt…Kierkegaard…was not attacking the teachings of Christianity, but the official way it was sanctioned and carried out by the Lutheran Church at the time.”[5]

His anger was so great toward the Lutheran Church he refused communion while on his death bed.

If you have read or attempted to read Kierkegaard you know that he can be a difficult read and one may wonder if it would be beneficial to read his works.

One would benefit greatly by reading Lee C. Barrett’s (PhD, Yale) instructive book Kierkegaard as Theologian. As Professor of Theology, at Lancaster Theological Seminary at Moravian University, he has written extensively on Kierkegaard including several books and articles.

What makes this book so instructive and helpful, especially for those new to the philosopher’s writings? Before reading selections from Kierkegaard, Barrett summarizes the text in great detail, making Kierkegaard’s writings much easier to understand.

The texts that Barrett’s comments on are several of Kierkegaard’s more familiar writings, including For Self-Examination, Judge For Yourself, Either/Or, The Sickness Unto Death, and Fear and Trembling, among others.

He also explains Kierkegaard’s theological style:

Kierkegaard’s work as an exercise in theology requires some explanation and justification, for Kierkegaard’s writings do not resemble anything remotely like a collection of standard theological texts. If he counts as a theologian at all, he certainly was not a typical one.[6]

At the end of every chapter Barrett supplies questions for reflection, which may prove helpful to readers as they digest and savor what both Kierkegaard and Barrett are saying. It is certainly not a book to rush through.

Barrett’s book simply titled Kierkegaard (Abingdon Press) is another helpful read to understanding Kierkegaard’s writings.

Reviewed by Larry Russi

Publisher’s page: https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/tt-clark-reader-in-kierkegaard-as-theologian-9780567670373/

Notes

[1] Colin Brown, Philosophy & The Christian Faith (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press,1968),125

[2] Søren Kierkegaard, Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard (Farmington, PA: The Plough Publishing House, 1999, back cover

[3] Colin Brown, Philosophy & The Christian Faith (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press,1968),125

[4] Claire Strother, “A World-Renowned Center for the Study of Kierkegaard” St. Olaf Magazine (Spring/Summer 2022), 23.

[5] Shelley O’Hara, Kierkegaard Within Your Grasp (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2004), 6

[6]Lee C. Barrett, ed. T & T Clark Reader in Kierkegaard as Theologian (NY: Bloomsbury, 2018), 1

“His engraved precepts shall be on my tongue as long as I live,
as the fruit of praise and portion of my lips.
I will sing with knowledge;
all my music shall be for the glory of God.
The strings of my lyre sound for his holy order;
my lips play flute after his guiding line.”
—Community Rule, 1QS 10:8-18 (p. 8, bold mine)

When we consider the inter-testamental period, we might assume that God was silent and that Israel—God’s chosen people—were spiritually adrift. My Lips Play Flute for the Highest was written to dispel such notions. Author Torleif Elgvin asserts, “Jewish literature blossomed in this period,” and demonstrates repeatedly that there were Israelites who prayed for their nation, for Jerusalem, for redemption from their sins, and who faithfully awaited God’s intervention. Elgvin focuses on the liturgy and psalms discovered among the Dead Sea Scrolls, offering often moving and sometimes revelatory insights. One may conclude, as I have, that Jesus’s arrival was not only “in the fullness of time” (Gal 4:4) but also an answer to the fervent prayers of a faithful remnant.

“Save me from the power of evil spirits, those who rule over the thoughts of men, so that they do not lead me away from you, my God! Strengthen me and my descendants through all times, so that we never go astray!”
—Jubilees 12:19-20

While Dr. Elgvin professes to be a Christian, this is an academic work designed to appeal to both the traditional Jewish community and Christians. He contrasts both perspectives, presenting them objectively and allowing readers to draw their own conclusions.

Spanning 225 pages, the prayers are followed by brief commentary and organized into sections:

• Hymns of Praise
• Prayers for Israel
• Prayers for Zion
• Psalms of Confidence
• Longing for God
• Revelation and Illumination to the Humble
• The Lord’s Anointed
• The End of Days and the World to Come

Images and maps enhance the overall presentation.

My Lips Play Flute for the Highest serves as an excellent reference book. Though millennia old, these prayers remain fresh and biblically consistent, making them suitable for congregational prayers or liturgical readings today.

Reviewed by Kevin Williams

Publisher’s page: https://wipfandstock.com/9781666770018/my-lips-play-flute-for-the-highest/

Every dissertation has to find some unique way to answer a pressing question to count as adding something substantial to its academic domain. Sometimes these methodologies can feel strained and concerned merely with novelty. Other times an author will put their finger on something that not only illuminates the subject in question but also changes the way you understand the topic. Mona Tokarek LaFosse’s published version of her dissertation, Honouring Age: The Social Dynamics of Age Structure in 1 Timothy, does the latter. In it, LaFosse uses the framework of age and how different age groups relate to each other to bring clarity to the concerns of the letter of 1 Timothy as well as answer some long-held scholarly debates about the widows in 1 Timothy 5.

After arguing for the need to look at 1 Timothy through the lens of age in chapter 1, LaFosse uses contemporary ethnographic research on traditional Mediterranean societies to construct two models: 1) age status and the generational cycle and 2) generational stability and social change (chapter 2). These models help to illustrate the age structure of traditional Mediterranean societies and how such structures dictate proper behavior, especially concerning honor. LaFosse is careful to avoid anachronism here and only uses these ethnographic studies to provide a probable starting point that is corrected in light of ancient evidence. In chapter 3, LaFosse proposes a setting for the letter of 1 Timothy (which she takes to be heteronymous. Editor’s note: written by someone other than Paul, see below) in the generation after the apostles when the recipients would have been in generational uncertainty in the wake of the loss of the older Christian generation (represented by Paul) and heightened by the conflict surrounding the false teachers. These concrete realities are answered by the letter’s reinforcement of traditional age structure and the corresponding proper behaviors of those within the church (the subject of chapter 4).

Chapter five through eight, focusing on widows in 1 Timothy, are the heart of the book. Here is where LaFosse’s models become the most helpful. There is no need for her to posit an office of the widow because concerns about widows within a household–both how they were honored and how they could disgrace the (church) family if they didn’t conform to proper behavior–were serious and persistent concerns in the ancient Mediterranean (chapter 5). In chapter 6 LaFosse addresses the two difficulties of the sixty+ age requirement to be put on the “list” (1 Tim 5:9). In short, sixty was considered the demarcation of old age, and the “list” was public recognition of such a widow’s honorable and virtuous life. “The idea of ‘enlisting’ exemplary widows in 1 Tim. 5:9 reflects a similar sense of awarding public honour to those who behave properly and piously—those who embodied the ideals of a virtuous woman over her lifetime” (145). This was important not merely for the sake of honor itself, but because of the vital role an older widow would play in the guidance and formation of younger widows (chapter 7). Chapter eight proposes the “believing woman” (1 Tim 5:16) as a middle-aged woman who was neglecting her duties towards the younger widows, and thus, is the target of Paul’s critique.

I should add one final note that is less a criticism than a question my mind kept returning to as I read her book. As is common in academic circles, LaFosse understands 1 Timothy as pseudonymous (though she prefers the term “heteronymous”). She provides the typical reasons (pp. 11-12): different vocabulary from the “undisputed” Pauline letters, the difficulty in placing 1 Timothy within the timeline of Paul’s life and other letters, and the emphasis on hierarchy as opposed to the (allegedly non-hierarchical) body metaphor. This she takes as evidence for a later date and her own work showing the concern for age and the anxiety caused by generational change would reinforce a compositional date after Paul’s lifetime. Yet, as I read LaFosse I wondered if her own work actually undermined her hypothetical reconstruction of the letter’s setting. If concerns over age structure and dynamics were an ever-present reality in the ancient Mediterranean world, then it would be a concern within Paul’s lifetime just as much as after. That is, why should we think that the real Paul wouldn’t be concerned about age dynamics? It only is a problem if we first assume that somehow Paul stood outside of time and place, aloof from his own culture and concerns. Why shouldn’t he think young men should honor elders or older widows train up and guide younger widows? My intuition is to think he would, but just asking the question illustrates the value of LaFosse’s book.

Reviewed by Ryan Clevenger

Publisher’s page: https://www.mqup.ca/honouring-age-products-9780228019350.php

This text is yet another in a long line of publications that mines the bible for insights concerning how humans should treat animals. Grumett’s angle takes up the topic of animal husbandry, that is domesticated animals raised for human use (i.e. food, clothing, etc.) in farm and ranch settings. His thesis is “For both Christians and non-Christians, viewing these animals in husbandry systems that were extensive and unmechanized encourages a renewed focus on the animals themselves, including their biological needs and normal behaviors, rather than on animals as products and as sources of products.” He continues arguing that biblical accounts tell non-believers that the bible is not anthropocentric and that sometimes humans are even required to treat animals properly (p.2).

Grummett supports his thesis in the following four chapters, each of which takes up a different aspect of animal welfare that he believes scripture supports. Chapter 1, Herds and Flocks, explores the collective behavior of animals (i.e. sheep and cattle) and how their group behavior impacts their individual and collective well-being. Grumett argues that biblical writings recognize the social element of herd animals in contrast with contemporary ranching systems (p.6). Grumett employs Augustine’s argument that animals are givers of signs, as evidence for the notion that animals are more than creatures to satisfy human needs (p.8). He cites various biblical passages, such as Luke 2:8, that the bible is aware of the collective nature of herd animals. Strangely, Grumett attempts to extend the argument to pigs and chickens even while acknowledging the latter is absent in scripture and the other is rarely mentioned (pp. 16-17). Unfortunately, his appeal to the biblical evidence fails to distinguish between when the biblical writer is describing something and when he is prescribing something (p. 9).

Grumett then proceeds to discuss the sexual and young rearing behaviors of herd animals noting that these practices play an important part in their well-being. Readers will likely find the attention to allegedly non-heterosexual behavior of these animals to be nothing short of bizarre. His comment that readers will find these behaviors “…differing from commonly accepted norms.” (p. 18) to be an understatement. Interestingly, while his thesis is that animal behavior is to teach humans (p.10,18), he does not follow through on how this alleged homosexual behavior in animals is to teach us.

In Chapter 2, Bodies, Grumett argues that the biblical testimony and scientific research condones the practice of maintaining the bodily integrity of the farm animals. Where the prior chapter heralded the value of inter-animal relationships, this chapter argues that the bodies of individual animals should be maintained in their original form. Practices, such as castration, tail docking, nose ringing, debeaking, etc. should be abandoned because they are not supported by Scripture. While conceding that sometimes good husbandry practices may require violating the bodily integrity of an animal, it should only be done if absolutely necessary, meaning that alternative options have been eliminated (p. 51).

Grumett bases this opinion on the sacrificial law that forbids sacrificing blemished animals (Exod 12:5; 29:1; pp. 31, 37). Since the Hebrew word Tamim, (unblemished) means that castrated animals were not permissible sacrifices (cf. Lev 22:19, 24-5), Grumett contends Israelites conformed their ranching practices to align with this law. Unfortunately, he does not provide any evidence for this assertion. Perhaps his awareness of this evidentiary gap explains why he spent so much space discussing the negative impacts of common husbandry practices that violate an animal’s bodily integrity.

Chapter 3, Behavior, turns our attention to where (i.e. habitat) and how (i.e. eating, moving and playing) animals live their lives. Basing his argument in the creation narrative of Genesis 1, Grumett says “It is notable that the animals are assigned habitats that are all outdoors, and that at no future point is any other norm established.” (p. 54). He continues to say that if animals are to be kept indoors there must be substantive reasons for doing so. Ultimately, Grumett believes that the biblical suggestion, if not an explicit norm, is for farmers to raise animals is as freely as possible so the animals can experience the fulness of their behavioral characteristics. Interestingly, while he is aware that the bible speaks of stall-fed calves (pp.57ff) noting Amos’ condemnation (6:4), Christ’s reference to the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:23) is conspicuously ignored.

The final chapter, Stockpersons, looks at the role of the animal caretakers. He asserts that Israel’s husbandry was philosophically/religiously different than that of her pagan neighbors in that she treated animals objectively. Animals were not sources of spiritual strength for Israelites (pp. 69-70). Since the dominion narratives are troublesome for Grumett, he attempts to downplay their impact by suggesting there were exceptions to the top-down coercive authority scheme between humans and animals (p. 71). Unfortunately, the exceptions employed to illustrate his point all involve human to human subjugation, not human to animal. Nevertheless, he continues arguing that the human-animal relationship is covenantal (p.75) and goes into some detail about different aspects of the stockperson-animal bond and its importance.

Grumett describes one rather strange example of the human-animal bond, namely when the stockperson is seen as a member of the herd. Grumett claims that such a blurring of the human-animal distinction can be found in the story of Rachel putting goat skin on Jacob (pp. 84-85; Gen 27:11-23). He ends the chapter suggesting that ranchers should safeguard, if not reestablish, the bond between stockperson and livestock that has been marred/threatened by contemporary livestock practices.

The book ends with a three-page Epilogue where Grumett reminds readers that the bible has more to say about animal agriculture than what is traditionally thought. In addition, scripture sees animals as having their own intrinsic (versus utilitarian) worth which should be respected. Interestingly, he only claims that humans should work harder to treat animals well rather than the typical animal rights call for ending animal husbandry and adopt veganism.

Grumett’s reading of scripture through the lens of animal husbandry, informed by modern science, is certainly a worthy approach. The manifold truths contained in scripture can often only be appreciated when we narrow the scope of our attention to a particular perspective. For making readers aware of that approach, Grumett is to be commended. While astute readers will hear the echoes of an animal protectionist perspective, if not an animal rights one, Grumett refuses to condemn animal husbandry outright. In this he differs from other readers of scripture from the animal protectionist perspective.

While adopting a perspectival approach to probe scripture is useful, it can never have the final say. The method should never be privileged as being the only way they look at the text. For elevating an approach to ex cathedra status can easily result in distortions to the authorial meaning. Take the example of one of my seminary professors who cautioned us not to overread the meaning of a word during lexical analysis. He used the example of interpreting a letter. We traditionally start with “Dear….” He noted that if we read too much into the word ‘Dear’, we might think the writer was extremely fond of us. If we were researching love literature, we might think that every letter starting with “Dear…” is a love letter. Regrettably, Grumett allowed his animal welfare approach to biblical data about livestock animals to blind him to alternative views and contrary data.

Permit me to provide just a couple of examples to illustrate. Grumett conveniently ignores biblical data that counters his perspective. For example, in the reference to muzzling the ox (p. 60), he doesn’t engage Paul who clearly argued that God’s concern wasn’t about animal welfare (1 Cor 9:9). In fact, his scripture index does not even list a passage from 1 Corinthians (p. 108). Likewise, he ignores Christ’s use of the fatted calf in the story about the Prodigal Son, despite spending two pages on the subject (pp. 57-58) telling us that the bible suggests such activity is less than ideal. Wouldn’t Jesus, the author of Scripture, know not to use a fatted calf in a positive light? Or how should Christ’s treatment of the herd of pigs be interpreted? Did Christ’s decision to allow them to be demonized and then drowned demonstrate proper stewardship of domestic animals (Matt 8:30ff; Mark 5:11ff; Luke 8:32ff)? Finally, Grumett argues that modifying an animal’s body is wrong. But what about an owner whose ox likes to gore (Ex 21:29)? Is it better for the owner to cut the horns or should the ox just be killed and eaten? Grumett does not tell us.

The second problem with the book lies in the manner of Grumett’s argumentation. While the tone is suggestive and non-dogmatic, Grumett frequently draws conclusions and makes connections without filling in the evidentiary or logical steps. He claims that Amos 6:4 condemns stall fed calves (p. 58). While acknowledging the financial angle of Amos’ condemnation, Grumett continues to suggest that stall-feeding calves was inherently wrong. Unfortunately, this claim is asserted not proven (see also the animal play argument p. 64).

Grumett frequently confuses what the bible portrays with what it proffers. On page 54, he appeals to the creation narratives regarding animal habitats as being outdoors (versus indoors). But the question is where else would recently created animals be (other than outdoors) until Adam and Eve could begin to initiate the creation mandate? I live in Montana’s cattle country. During our winter storms, I would suggest that the herd would definitely prefer to be “indoors” rather than unrestrained in the field during an ice storm. But is it morally wrong or a violation of our dominion mandate to keep cattle in the field? Regrettably, Grumett’s failure to connect the logical steps and provide the needed evidence to reach his animal-welfare conclusions leaves readers wanting.

By now readers should understand that this book is entirely inadequate to the task it had taken up. While we can thank Grumett for raising the issue of biblical testimony and livestock production, we will have to look elsewhere for answers that can be faithful to the biblical witness and withstand fair-minded scrutiny.

Reviewed by Stephen M. Vantassel

Publisher’s page: https://wipfandstock.com/9798385218592/the-bible-and-farm-animal-welfare/

Giulio Maspero’s book Rethinking the Filioque with the Greek Fathers addresses the seemingly perennial theological debate that has divided Christendom for a thousand years through a close reading of the development of trinitarian doctrine in the early Church. For those unfamiliar with the filioque controversy, a brief overview will help set the stage for Maspero’s book. “Filioque” is a Latin phrase that means “and the Son.” It was first added to the third heading of the Niceno-Constantinoplitan Creed (“I believe in the Holy Spirit…who proceeds from the Father and the Son”) at the regional Council of Toledo held in 589 and later adopted by the Western Latin-speaking Church under the jurisdiction of the Roman pontiff. Greek-speaking Christians saw this as problematic both ecclesiastically and theologically. Ecclesiastically, they saw it as an illegitimate addition to the Creed without ecumenical consent. It would be like a single state in the US making a change to the US Constitution and declaring that all the other states had to accept the change whether they liked it or not. Theologically, Greek-speaking authors thought that the addition of the filioque compromised the unity of God, which was seen to be found in the Father as the sole cause of the Trinity, by adding a second cause within the Godhead. Two causes meant there were two Gods. Ultimately, this became one of the issues that led to the schism between East and West Christendom in 1054 that has never been healed.

Maspero’s book is not an attempt to address all the issues of the Filioque. The history is long and this ground has been covered by others, such as A. Edward Siecienski’s excellent historical survey The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy (Oxford University Press, 2010). Any reader interested in Maspero’s book should read Siecienski’s book first to familiarize themselves with the history. Instead, Maspero focuses on giving a nuanced historical reading of the development of filioque within the development of trinitarian doctrine in the early church from Origen (c 185-254) to Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335-395). At each stage, Maspero is careful to explain how these authors were addressing specific issues in their own time and how that affected their articulation of Trinitarian doctrine.

For example, Origen (the subject of chapter 1) was addressing both Stoic materialism and Gnostic cosmology when he made a sharp distinction between God and creation but kept an ordered hierarchy within the Trinity such that the Father was more truly God than the Son, and the Son more God than the Holy Spirit. This Logos-theology (as he calls it) resulted in two models of the Trinity: the linear model (Father → Logos → Pneuma) and the triangular model ( Logos ← Father → Pneuma). These were never resolved in Origen and led to the Arian controversy at the beginning of the fourth century. Maspero then traces (chapters 2 and 3) how these two models worked themselves out in the fourth century in authors like Epiphanius, Pseudo-Athanasius, Athanasius, Eusebius of Caesarea and Marcellus of Ancyra. While Athanasius’s nature (physis)-theology approach might have helped address the Arian debates over the status of the Son, it was insufficient to answer the so-called Pneumatomachians (=Spirit Fighters) who affirmed the divinity of the Son but denied the divinity of the Holy Spirit. It is this debate seen in authors like Gregory of Nazianzus and especially Gregory of Nyssa (chapters 4 and 5) that Maspero focuses on as the immediate context for the development of the Greek filioque.

I think this is a particularly important contribution not only to debates about the filioque but also to general discussions about the Trinitarian debates of the fourth century. Too often the Pneumatomachian controversy is an appendix to the Arian controversy. “Once the Arian controversy was solved,” so the story typically goes, “there were some weird people who denied the divinity of the Holy Spirit but that was an anomaly and everybody just moved on until the Christological controversies of the fifth century.” Instead, Maspero argues that the Pneumatomachian controversy highlighted a gap in the nature (physis) model that made the Pneumatomachian position a comprehensible position to hold. It is in their response to the Pneumatomachians that Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa shifted from the question of nature to the question of relation that allowed them to sufficiently answer the Pneumatomachian objections: the identity of the Son and Spirit is distinguished by a difference in the way they relate to the Father (Son is begotten; Spirit proceeds). More so, the Spirit, argued the two Gregories, is metaphysically placed in between the Father and the Son such that the Father can remain cause while admitting an active role of the Son in the procession of the Holy Spirit.

Maspero then tests his hypothesis by comparing these Greek developments with the Syrian theological tradition (chapter 6). Here Maspero once again demonstrates historical nuance in attending to the linguistic difficulties in translating concepts developed in a Greek-speaking context into a Syrian one. Namely, Gregory of Nazianzus was able to distinguish procession as a general category (proion) from the specific relation of the Spirit to the Father (ekporeutōs). Not only does the Syrian Church’s adaptation of the Creed in 410 explicitly say that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son—as well as being present in their own nascent theologians such as Ephrem the Syrian—but Syriac translations of the Cappadocians use filioque-type language to express Gregory’s terminological distinction that was unavailable to them in Syriac. When placed in the highly technical Trinitarian debates of the fourth century, it becomes clear that this evidence isn’t merely the result of translation, but of conceptual pressure arising from the Pneumatomachian debates at the end of the fourth century.

The rest of the book is a comparison between what Maspero has discovered in the Greek (and Syrian) Fathers, with the theological developments in the West, specifically Augustine. Augustine, as the most important Latin-speaking theologian, is usually charged with being the source of the filioque. In chapter 7, Maspero addresses the issue of the so-called “psychological analogy” of the Trinity which plays an important part in Augustine’s De Trinitate. Was this a cause of the filioque? Maspero argues that it was not because he also has discovered a similar, though not identical, psychological analogy at work in Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa, and the seventh-century theologian Anastasius of Sinai (which he argues is independent of Augustine’s influence). Secondly, in chapter 8, Maspero takes a close look at the metaphysical differences between Augustine and the Cappadocians. While he thinks that Augustine is at a conceptual disadvantage compared to the Greek-speaking East—specifically on the ontological status of relation—Maspero shows how Augustine is driven by similar conceptual pressures (a shared theological grammar) as Gregory of Nyssa to affirm a role of the Son in the procession of the Spirit.

Maspero finally concludes with a summary of his argument and an ecumenical proposal: affirm a Greek understanding of the active (but not causal) role of the Son in the procession of the Holy Spirit.

Maspero has written a nuanced and highly technical, historical, and theological investigation of the “Greek Filioque”. While he gives helpful summaries of his argument along the way to mark the trail he is blazing, this is still an admittedly difficult book and requires a slow and careful reading. Those unfamiliar with scholarship on the Trinitarian debates of the fourth century would do well to read Lewis Ayres’s Nicaea and Its Legacy or Mark DelCogliano’s introduction and translation of Basil of Caesarea’s Against Eunomius. Nevertheless, this is an important and necessary book for three reasons. First, Maspero demonstrates how to do historical theology well. Historical theology isn’t just appealing to what theologians of the past have said, but why they said it. Second, I think Maspero does an excellent job of showing how biblical exegesis was an integral part of these debates. These early Christians weren’t just philosophizing or engaging in abstract conceptual arguments for their own sake. Their reflections arise out of their close reading of the Bible to address the needs of their time. While we might not always understand the nuances of their exegesis, we should walk away from Maspero’s book appreciating just how important the Bible was for them in these debates. Third, remembering the role the filioque played in the division of 1054, Maspero’s work is an important contribution to healing those rifts so that we, as Jesus prayed, might be one.

Reviewed by Ryan Clevenger

Publisher’s page: https://www.eerdmans.com/9781467466417/rethinking-the-filioque-with-the-greek-fathers/

Karl Barth and Pentecostal Theology: A Convergence of the Word and the Spirit, edited by Frank D. Macchia, Terry L. Cross, and Andrew K. Gabriel. London: T & T Clark, 2024.

The book is published in the growing academic book series Systematic Pentecostal and Charismatic Theology.

The book is currently very expensive (US$150), but in a year or two the publisher should release a paperback version that will be closer to US$50. That is still expensive, but a little more reasonable for an academic book.

Description (from the Publisher):

The essays in this volume evaluate and build on Barth’s theology from the perspective of Pentecostal theology and, thereby, contribute to constructive Pentecostal systematic theology by using Barth as a valuable dialogue partner. At present, a theological conversation of Pentecostals with Barth does not exist and this volume fills this void. More widely, it will aid all those who seek a convergence of the Word and the Spirit in theology.

Barth and Pentecostals share some important common theological interests. Barth’s mature theology has a decidedly christological emphasis. Likewise, historically, Pentecostals have often spoken of a “full gospel” with an emphasis on Christ as savior, healer, baptizer (in the Spirit), and soon-and-coming King, with some Pentecostal traditions also adding a fifth emphasis on Christ the sanctifier. Furthermore, near the end of his life, Barth anticipated “the possibility of a theology of the third article, a theology where the Holy Spirit would dominate and be decisive.” The realization of Barth’s dream is no doubt coming to pass in part through the development of Pentecostal theology in as much as pneumatological theology (exploring how pneumatology affects, supplements, and might reform other doctrines) is an emerging paradigm for Pentecostal theology.

Table of Contents

1. Introduction, Frank D. Macchia (Vanguard University, USA), Terry L. Cross (Lee University, USA), Andrew K. Gabriel (Horizon College and Seminary, Canada)

Part One: Theology and Revelation

2. Theology as a Pointing Finger: Barth and Pentecostalism on the Nature of Theology, Todd Pokrifka (Institute for Community Transformation, USA)
3. Revelation as Encounter: Karl Barth, Pneumatological Realism, and the Pentecostal Notion of Prophetic Preaching, Gary Tyra (Vanguard University, USA)

Part Two: God and Creation

4. Oneness, Pentecostals and Karl Barth: Theological Cousins Who Never Met? David A. Reed (Wycliffe College, Canada)
5. Barth and Pentecostals on the Divine Perfections of (Im)mutability and (Im)possibility, Andrew K. Gabriel (Horizon College and Seminary, Canada)
6. Barth, Election, and the Spirit, William Atkinson (London School of Theology, UK)
7. Empowered by the Spirit: A Pneumatological Revision of Karl Barth’s Theological Anthropology, Lisa P. Stephenson (Lee University, USA)

Part Three: Christ and Salvation

8. Jesus the Spirit Baptizer: A Pentecostal Revision of Karl Barth’s Spirit Christology, Frank D. Macchia (Vanguard University, USA)
9. On Giving the Devil (No More Than) His Due: Karl Barth, Pentecostalism, and the Demonic, Michael McClymond (Saint Louis University, USA)
10. Subjects and Predicates: Barthian Grammar and Pentecostal Soteriology, David J. Courey (Continental Theological Seminary, Belgium)
11. Slamming the Door and Cracking a Window? Pneumatological Investigations for Possible Openings in Karl Barth’s Generally Closed Theology of Religions, Tony Richie (Pentecostal Theological Seminary, USA)
12. Barth, Pentecostalism, and the Eschatological Cry for the Kingdom, Christian T. Collins Winn (Augsburg University, USA)

Part Four: Holy Spirit and the Church

13. Spirit, Love, and Charisma: Pneumatology in the Theology of Karl Barth and Pentecostalism, Peter Althouse (Oral Roberts University, USA)
14. Let the Church be the Church: Barth and Pentecostals on Ecclesiology, Terry L. Cross (Lee University, USA)
15. You Wonder Where the Real Presence Went: The Sacraments and the Pentecostal Experience, Chris E. Green (Southeastern University, USA)

Bibliography

Index

PR

Publisher’s page: Karl Barth and Pentecostal Theology: A Convergence of the Word and the Spirit

More by authors appearing in this book:

The theology and influence of Karl Barth: an interview with Terry Cross

Terry L. Cross, Answering the Call in the Spirit: Pentecostal Reflections on a Theology of Vocation, Work and Life (Lee University Press, 2007) as reviewed by Mara Lief Crabtree

Frank Macchia: Assessing the Prosperity Gospel

John Wesley and Pentecostalism: an interview with Frank Macchia

Frank D. Macchia, Baptized in the Spirit: A Global Pentecostal Theology (Zondervan, 2006) as reviewed by Tony Richie

Frank D. Macchia, Tongues of Fire: A Systematic Theology of the Christian Faith (Cascade, 2023) as reviewed by Wolfgang Vondey

Robert W. Graves, ed., Strangers To Fire: When Tradition Trumps Scripture (The Foundation for Pentecostal Scholarship, 2014) as reviewed by Tony Richie

Tony Richie, Essentials of Pentecostal Theology: An Eternal and Unchanging Lord Powerfully Present and Active by the Holy Spirit (Wipf & Stock, 2020) as reviewed by John Lathrop

Tony Richie, “Do All Abraham’s Children Worship Abraham’s God?”

Frank Macchia is one of the most recognizable Pentecostal theologians well-known for his advocacy of Spirit baptism. Far from engagement with insider concerns that are of interest only to Pentecostals, Macchia is a constructive and ecumenical thinker with particular emphasis also on the doctrines of the Trinity and the kingdom of God. Along the demands of this broader theological engagement, his latest works have taken the theme of Spirit baptism as the basis for constructing works on Justification (Justified in the Spirit), Christology (Jesus, the Spirit Baptizer), and ecclesiology (The Spirit Baptized Church). With Tongues of Fire, Macchia now offers a comprehensive systematic theology—albeit not explicitly under the theme of Spirit baptism but under the scandalous expression of this theme taken from the “tongues of fire” (Acts 2:3) in the biblical story of Pentecost. “Tongues of fire,” writes Macchia, “ultimately define our capacity to experience God” (p. 88). Still, apart from a dozen or so references throughout the text, the book has far more to say about Spirit baptism, including a dedicated section (pp. 299-317), than about “tongues.” Even the publisher’s description suggests that the book was “written with Christ’s outpouring of the Holy Spirit from the heavenly Father at Pentecost as its dominant motif.” This observation is not insignificant to a reviewer who has always encouragingly reminded Macchia that his early work on tongues will be remembered as his most evocative theology. But with the obvious reference to Spirit baptism already taken by one of Macchia’s other books (Baptized in the Spirit), the choice of title is undoubtedly a well-considered reflection of his life-long work and the underlying intentions of this systematic theology. Tongues of Fire will attract Pentecostal readers and yet challenge them to “interpret” the “tongues” differently from what they might have expected. What the book promises as a theme all-too familiar to Pentecostals is transformed into a metaphor for Pentecostal scholarship that is far more provocative.

Writing and publishing a systematic theology as a Pentecostal scholar is no easy feat. There is still a persistent stereotype among some publishers about the theological contributions of the Pentecostal and Charismatic movements. On the other hand, many of the once thriving series dedicated to Pentecostal scholarship are no longer published, and publishers who were once able to sustain a larger body of Pentecostal literature are forced to direct proposals towards textbooks rather than research-based monographs. That this work is published in a bespoke series “Word & Spirit: Pentecostal Investigations in Theology and History” testifies to the dilemma that integrating Pentecostal works in the established theological publishing landscape remains difficult. The challenge is hidden on the first pages in the Library of Congress subject headings which identify the content as “Pentecostal churches–doctrines” yet also “Theology, Doctrinal” (p. iv). Macchia’s path is the ambitious road between, a trail all Pentecostal theologians have to navigate with far more care than many of the theologians of other traditions. This context places the achievement of the book in a different light. What Macchia proposes is not simply a Pentecostal version of traditional doctrines but a Pentecostal approach to theology as “tongues of fire” that represent “an overload of prophetic communication” where “the fire signifies the purity of truth” (p. xvii). What Macchia is after is a declaration of the wonders of God where the Pentecostal theological language is not an exception but can be understood in all the languages of the world. “Theology, as an academic discipline, joins the church’s speech,” Macchia proposes, “in a search for fitting understanding and declaration” (p. xviii-xix). Reading the book as just an attempt to interpret the spectrum of Christian doctrines from a Pentecostal perspective therefore diminishes its intentions. That Tongues of Fire is a biblical metaphor applied to an academic endeavor should alert Pentecostals to the possibility that the Spirit poured out on all flesh can indeed be received in academic theology and publishing.

The book is comprised of six parts: the first three chapters address (1) the task of theology, followed by four chapters on (2) God, and two chapters each on (3) Christ, (4) Holy Spirit, (5) Church, and (6) final purpose. With this outline, Macchia follows the organization of traditional evangelical systematic theology. About two decades ago, Pentecostal scholars held a prolonged discussion on the idea whether there could be a “systematic” Pentecostal theology in the first place. Macchia answers this question in the affirmative. A particular debate since then has been what that systematic theology would look like, whether it follows the traditional theological patterns, and what exactly it contributes to that tradition. Macchia’s project endorses the traditional order, and this choice has the advantage that his proposal will be familiar to a wide audience, allowing them to integrate the Pentecostal perspective into an already established way of thinking. Macchia is aware of the history of systematic theology (pp. 11-16) and views it as a discussion of “doctrinal proposals in a way that shows the coherence and unity of truth across the specific topics” (p. 11). Hence, he asserts that “the loci of systematic theology rightly put God first” (14) and “the first three loci of the Triune God have prime of place” (15) followed by salvation, church, and the perfection of new creation. In the larger historical tradition, Tongues of Fire joins the modern “struggle to understand the top loci of systematic theology” (61) in what may be described as a Pentecostal commentary on the articles of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. More specifically, the Pentecostal perspective engages with the core doctrines of Christology and pneumatology. Adapted to read through a Pentecostal lens, in this theology “Christ himself is present in the presence of the Spirit and it remains by the Spirit that we confess Jesus as Lord to the glory of the Father” (16). The greatest advantage of Macchia’s approach is that it allows Pentecostals to situate their place in the history of the theological tradition and to proceed from there as an original theological trajectory that can now be further developed.

Reviewed by Wolfgang Vondey

Further Reading

Frank Macchia’s webpage: https://www.frankdmacchia.com/

Tony Richie’s review of Baptized in the Spirit: A Global Pentecostal Theology