Wright's work is something I plan on engaging with often and at length as I work my way through its 1800 or so pages, but for my purpose in this post I want to draw out some of his thoughts on "worldview" that are germane to Smith's work. Smith balks, somewhat, at the language of worldview altogether, since such talk privileges, as he sees it, the life of the mind over a more embodied, holistic experience. Wright is not entirely comfortable with the term "worldview" himself, but caveats noted he says in reference to the worldview of Paul,
"the life of the mind was itself elevated by Paul from a secondary social activity, for those with the leisure to muse and ponder life's tricky questions, to a primary socio-cultural activity for all the Messiah's people. The interesting question of whether one thinks oneself into a new way of acting or acts oneself into a new way of thinking will, I suspect, continue to tease those who try to answer it (not least because it is of course reflexive: should you answer it by thinking of by acting?). . . Worldview creates a context for theology, but theology is necessary to sustain the worldview." (PFG 27)
Wright is driving toward something here that is tricky when evaluating a work like Smith's. While I agree with Smith's assessment that humans are by nature worshiping beings and that this is an inextricable part of our humanity, the call to discipleship within Christianity demands that we engage fully with our minds as well as our bodies and our affections. Which is merely to say that both men are right. At certain times and in certain contexts (such as Smith's Reformed world) it is right to emphasize the centrality of the body and of desire to Christian worship. At other times and in other contexts, for example a believer who only reads the Bible devotionally or refuses to deal with any "theology" cuz that's bad and divisive, it is helpful to be reminded that we are instructed to love the Lord with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength.
As to the second provoking text, this week I have been reading (and loving) Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev, the story of a young Ladover Jew in Brooklyn who is blessed with a gift for painting. Perhaps I will write more about the book at some point, but for the subject at hand what stands out to me is the way the faith of the Ladovers invades every portion of their day. They pray at morning, noon, and night. They sing Psalms, they study Torah, they recite Scripture. Their days are infused throughout with reminders of their core identity: Jewish followers of the Ribbono Shel Olom, the Master of the Universe. Even their dress and hairstyle are formed in such a way as to set them apart.
I found myself reading Asher's father asking him every night to say his Krias Shema ("Hear, O Israel, the LORD our God, the LORD is one") and longing for that level of devotion, that simplicity of faith standing at the center of one's identity. Theological and cultural differences aside, I find it extremely admirable. Moreover, kids raised in this tradition will know that their faith marks them out from the world at large, that to follow God is a costly and precious thing. They will grow up with Scripture grafted into their heart.
I can hear some people already casting doubt, claiming that such a system would only breed rebellion. My response: at least children raised under such a system would know what they are rebelling against. Given the Biblical illiteracy of even church-going Christians today, whose kids by and large walk away from the faith in rebellion anyway, I wonder if those kids have any idea of the depth of the tradition they are casting aside. With my own kids, I want them to see the depth of their faith tradition, to taste of its riches when they are in my home, and know that to follow Christ is no mean pursuit. And they would feel what it is to love God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength.
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