• Stanley Porter
• Walter Moberly
• Richard Briggs
• Matthew Malcolm
• James Dunn
• Robert Morgan
• Tom Greggs
• Anthony Thiselton

I’m definitely looking forward to its publication.

Hank: Where did your interest in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes begin?

Dan:  I had a faithful junior high Sunday school teacher introduce me to Proverbs, I was blessed by Michael Card’s musical treatment of wisdom literature, and then in PhD study Willem Van Gemeren challenged me to think through a particular motif there regarding my project on theology as wisdom. I also found myself periodically defending Ecclesiastes’s value to my mother, but taking on this project forced me to take inchoate instincts and try to unfold them more deeply and coherently. As a practical matter, when Rusty Reno invited me into the BTCB series, Old Testament books were the ones left needing attention.

Hank: By my count, this was your ninth book-length project, what was it like writing a theological commentary compared to those other writing projects?

Dan: In one respect the task felt familiar, because I’ve been laboring to understand and teach the Scriptures for twenty or more years. But, in another respect, lots of personal factors complicated the process, and the project required professional growth in terms of hermeneutical self-discovery and courage in theological writing. The latter crucible made this the hardest project I’ve ever faced when it comes to actually completing what I started.

Hank: One of my favorite movie quotes claims, “It’s the questions that drive us.” What questions were driving you as you wrote the commentary? What unexpected answers did you find?

Dan: For Proverbs the driving question is how to incorporate its focus on moral formation into a robustly Christian theological framework. For Ecclesiastes the challenge is to read the Sage’s supposed secularity in appropriately positive, canonically enriching rather than just negatively deconstructive, terms, while accounting for the sheer multiplicity of voices in the text rather than prematurely silencing them. I suppose the more general question is how to relate the Old Testament to Christ without simply assuming that we know in advance what the texts have to say.

Hank: In your book Introducing Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Recovering a Christian Practice you describe the recovery of theological exegesis. In your commentary on Proverbs and Ecclesiastes you had to put theological exegesis into practice with some difficult texts. What was clarified for you about your own hermeneutics as a result of writing the commentary—I am especially interested in how a Lectio Divina type approach may have played into your exegesis?

Dan:  I did not pursue Lectio Divina in a kind of formalized, procedural way, but I certainly prayed in and around my exegesis and read much of the Hebrew text aloud. I also tried, though not as successfully as I would like, to pursue memorization. Hermeneutically I’ve reflected on some lessons learned in an essay on spiritual exegesis delivered at a Regent College conference. A published version is forthcoming in Crux. The gist of what I would say here is that wisdom demands attention to appropriate reader responses and questions about churchly proclamation in the midst of, not just after, doing technical exegesis. In this way engagement with the text, rather than application of some hermeneutical theory, ought to be primary. I also learned to be more appreciative of aspects of so-called pre-critical exegesis while at the same time taking tradition seriously enough as a dialogue partner neither to treat it as monolithic nor to be unwilling to disagree at points.

Hank: I really appreciated the way you organized Proverbs 1–9 around the “two ways” theme.  In the next section, I found your decision to organize much of the Proverb’s material around the seven “cardinal virtues” and the seven “capital sins” to be somewhat unique.  In my experience, many evangelicals would be hard pressed to name these virtues and vices—what did you hope to accomplish by using these categories to present the material from chapters 10–31?

Dan: At a pragmatic level I needed a topical framework for reasons of sheer space and also technical (in)competence. At a theological level I am supportive of the recent recovery of interest in virtue. While a committed Protestant, I am not as nervous about appropriating classically catholic understandings of nature and grace–even from earlier in the Reformed tradition–as are some who are influenced by Karl Barth. These pre-understandings aside, the key question is whether the framework does adequate justice to the content of Proverbs as well as illuminating how to communicate that material. Even if the framework didn’t arise directly from exegeting Proverbs, I find it more likely that such a tried and true theological tradition would prove helpful than that we should start by creatively generating modern concepts.

Hank: What practical advice would you give to pastors and/or biblical studies professors who want to help their congregations/students become theological exegetes—perhaps especially focusing on how skill in “figural reading” might aid their reading of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes?

Dan: I don’t think we should try to apply some method to developing such reading skills. I think we should try instead to read the texts with fresh eyes and open hearts, prayerfully asking lots of questions about theological relationships to the material–from elsewhere in the biblical canon, from the classic credal consensus and confessional traditions, and from contemporary cultural contexts. If we ask good questions and listen well, then we may hear God speaking afresh in the Scriptures rather than merely confirming what we already think we know. At a practical level, the greatest dangers may lie in assuming we know what theological orthodoxies these texts must support, and in pragmatically moralizing from these texts to learn about successful living. I think rather that both Proverbs and Ecclesiastes point us to Christ, but indirectly and unexpectedly–via the delightful goodness of the earthly and social contexts for human life, but also the dangers that arise when humans try to refuse the divinely given limits of those contexts.

Hank: Any final thoughts?

Dan: Not to belabor the obvious, but most of us know very little of the Bible, especially in its concrete wording, compared to the church fathers or even our more recent theological ancestors. Rusty Reno and also my own experience in Bible quizzing have impressed this upon me, albeit in different ways. If congregants or students are biblically illiterate, they cannot read canonically. For that matter they can’t really embrace the classic credal tradition in its fullness or encounter contemporary contexts with scripturally rather than culturally formed habits of heart and mind. So I’m not as concerned about practical skills in the sense of technique or method as I am about the old-fashioned work of actually paying attention to learning the texts. If we become literate, the questions will come to mind, and so too will answers old and new.

Hank: Thanks for this last point. I don’t think our biblical illiteracy is as obvious to us as it would be to believers of previous generations. My grandfather was a steel worker, and his favorite hymn was about Beulah Land… which I thought was a joke, until I realized the song was based on the Hebrew in Isaiah 62:4. Lately I have been impressed by Augustine’s advice to readers in Christian Doctrine, he challenges readers that the first rule of canonical reading has to do with memorizing as much of the text as possible [2:9].

Thanks, Dan, for your labor on this commentary, it is a gift for the church. You have given me much to think about, and I am sure our blog’s readers will appreciate your thoughts as well

That’s a particularly busy time of year with seminar papers and dissertation proposal defenses due, but we’ll do our best to post some summaries for those who cannot attend.

Since I was where you are just one year ago, I thought I’d share some of the best advice I was given about interviewing (Thanks Michelle, Becky, and Rollin!). It’s good advice no matter where you interview.

(1) Be yourself. We’re all tempted to try to make ourselves look better than we really are. Resist that temptation. Faculty want to know the real you. They want to know what you know, but also what you don’t know, and especially what you know you don’t know. (As one mentor told me, it’s pretty obvious when students are pretending to know about something!) Being teachable is more important than being brilliant, once you’ve made it this far. Wheaton culture (at least in the PhD program) is quite honest and collaborative. It’s ok to admit that something is way out of your league. Pretending you know something that you don’t will prevent you from learning. I was asked two questions at my interview to which I could only reply, “I really have no idea.” That’s ok. The committee knows that you don’t know everything.

Professors want to get a sense of your true personality. If you try to act more serious, or more outgoing, or more cerebral than you really are . . . everyone loses. Let’s say you pull it off. You’re not really yourself at the interview, and you fool everybody. You get in and arrive here in the fall to start the program. The whole time you’re here you’ll be wondering if it’s safe to let the real you come out, or if that will be a disappointment to everybody. Nobody needs that kind of stress.

(2) Make new friends. Another temptation at interviews is to look at the other candidates as your “competition.” It can be awkward to realize that the guy next to you at lunch is applying for the same position that you are. But think big. The other people who are coming to interview are great men and women—quality people whose interests are similar to your own. Even if you (or they) don’t end up together at Wheaton, in the small world that is Biblical Studies and Theology, you will likely rub shoulders with these people again. You might see them at conferences or read each other’s books. You may even teach together somewhere someday. Entrust your future to God and just enjoy the opportunity to meet new friends.

You should also try to get to know those of us who are already in the program. Knowing students ahead of me has saved me untold hours of grief. They have been enormously wise and helpful guides on this journey. Resist the temptation to compare yourself with other candidates or current students. Each of us brings a completely different set of gifts, skills, and experiences to the table. That’s what makes this such a rich learning environment. There is no way to tell from your vantage point how you “measure up” to other students. Just be yourself, do you best, and enjoy the journey.

If other doctoral students have advice to add, feel free to comment. And if you are coming to interview and have questions for any of us, please ask!

T&T Clark | Amazon

Summary

In The Christ’s Faith, Allen opens his book–which is a revision of his Wheaton PhD dissertation–with an overview of the contemporary debate in biblical studies over the meaning of the Pauline phrase pistis Christou. Many recent scholars have controversially seen themselves as inaugurating a post-Protestant movement as they move beyond the traditional Reformation interpretation of this phrase as an objective genitive (“faith in Christ”) to a subjective genitive (“Christ’s faith”). Though Allen does not wish to enter that debate from the linguistic or biblical studies end, he does use this introduction to establish his angle. Some systematicians have fired back at this “New Perspective,” charging its proponents as undermining sola fide. Allen seeks to engage the conversation on precisely this front, defending the dogmatic coherence of the subjective genitive approach, even if he abstains revolving his argument around pistis Christou. Indeed, moving beyond coherence, he argues for the necessity of the Christ’s faith for Christian dogmatic theology. Yet in so doing, he takes a “third way” of sorts, upholding prime Reformation concerns and identifying the dogmatic necessity of the Christ’s faith within its distinctly Protestant structure.

The course of Allen’s argument leads him to an ongoing dialogue with Thomas Aquinas, with chapter two centered on Aquinas’s insistence that Christ experienced the beatific vision throughout the entirety of his life. Aquinas denies that Jesus Christ had faith because “immediate knowledge,” of which the beatific vision consists, “negates the need or possibility of faith.” Conversely, Allen seeks to demonstrate that Aquinas is incorrect and that the Christ did, indeed, have faith (37). Against Aquinas, Allen argues that it is of the essence of humanity to “experience . . . growth and development.” Therefore, even if unique in his human existence, Jesus had to undergo development in order to be truly human (59). Arguing from Luke 2 and Hebrews, Allen contends that “Christ’s solidarity flows from his assumption of true human life into his eternal person; by assuming a human nature, Christ assumes the shape of human life with its developments and limitations” (62). Per Hebrews, these limitations include “struggle, temptation, and growth which imply that Jesus developed humanly” (63).

In chapter three, Allen seeks to articulate “faith” in Reformed perspective in contrast to Aquinas’s definition, which “lacks the breadth required by Scripture” (69). Moving through doubting Thomas, the dogmatic location of faith,[1] and Augustine, Allen then identifies the weakness of Aquinas’s account of faith, being a purely epistemic one. Herein lays one of the great strengths of the Reformation, the recovery and expansion of fiducia. Allen traces the conceptual clarity that Reformed orthodoxy adds to this discussion before solidifying the Reformation heritage of the faith-works distinction in Paul and Hebrews (as opposed to the faith-knowledge distinction of Aquinas).  Allen also moves further in affirming that obedience necessarily follows faith (see 98–100).

In light of the previous discussion, Allen argues that Christ could, in fact, exercise faith in that it is a show of trust (fiducia) which includes but is not limited to or primarily defined by cognitive elements: “This receptive faith involves both mind and will, intellect and aesthetic taste; it is knowing trust or intellectual fiducia”. Nevertheless, Jesus’ faith could not have been that of post-lapsarian trust of and unto redemption. Rather, Jesus’ faith was akin to that of pre-lapsarian Adam and Eve: it amounts to trust in the promise of blessing, in which setting, obedience follows faith. Consequently, “Jesus’s obedience as recorded in the Gospels and discussed in Romans 5 can be analytically related to faith as well” (103). Allen further demonstrates that any appeal to Jesus’ knowledge is insufficient to discount a notion of his faith, given the scriptural and dogmatic moorings that he has provided for faith as something more than Aquinas’ epistemic conception. Indeed, following Avery Dulles, increased knowledge serves the strengthening of faith. Thus, Allen may conclude that Jesus’ greater degree of knowledge provided a surer footing for his faith (see 103–4).

The argument shifts to a more conceptual field in chapter four. Allen seeks to establish the “metaphysical context for the claim that the divine Christ exercised human faith during his earthly life.” This will include an argument for the idea that “Christ assumed a fallen human nature,” though without sin. The course of the broader metaphysical argument includes theological exegesis of Exodus 3 and consideration of creeds (106). Allen explicates Exodus 3 to establish the transcendence of God such that all speech about God can only be analogous at best. In so doing, he affirms the Creator-creature distinction in “non-combative” metaphysical relation. That is, there is a qualitative rather than quantitative distinction between God and human (see 107–116). This pertains to Christology in Allen’s affirmation of an “asymmetry” in the hypostatic union with priority belonging to the “proper necessity” of the divine nature. As “contingent necessity,” the humanity of Christ is instrumental to the revelation of the Triune God (119–20).

In chapter five, Allen considers the function of Christ’s faith in the area of atonement and ethics. He does so in the form of case studies, considering what a dogmatic affirmation of the Christ’s faith might contribute to the theology of Aquinas, Reformation theology, and the theology of Barth. In the case of Barth, Allen’s discussion is primarily descriptive since Barth already explicitly affirmed Christ’s faith. At the other extreme, the Aquinas section involves more conceptual reordering in attempt to fix Aquinas’s theology.

Chapter five seems to serve primarily as a bridge to chapter six, where Allen argues for the necessity of Christ’s faith in atonement and ethics. Throughout, the emphasis of priority lies with objective salvation. Ethics as imitation of Christ’s faith can only exist as a secondary function of Christ’s faith. Specifically, imitative ethics is a response of gratitude that takes form in obedience by the Spirit (203–5). Allen is careful to guard against overly zealous imitation of Christ, cautioning that this can only be an imperfect imitation. Allen recognizes that in some ways believers cannot imitate Christ (those pertaining to Jesus’ “messianic vocation” [207]) while in others Jesus cannot serve as example given his historical situatedness: “changing circumstances of religious and social culture require discernment and moral improvisation” (206). With this in mind, Allen calls for “triangulation” of Christian ethics that looks to Christ and other believers who have lived worthily of the Lord. Both are important models of imitation on the way to the wisdom that bears forth right living in contemporary circumstances (207). Amid this triangulation, Allen is intent to affirm that imitation of the saints includes recognition that their imitation is ontologically and mimetically dependent upon Christ’s faith, whose faith and faithfulness is the primary model for imitation (208–9).

Brief Evaluation

The Christ’s Faith attests to Allen’s great skill and careful attention to detail. However, this does not even address the greatest strength of the book. More than the tight argumentation that moved methodically from one section to another building his case, Allen demonstrated admirable biblical sensitivity and theological sense in his approach to and use of Scripture. The contributions that his book has to offer are plentiful: a more conscientious treatment of the fallen human nature view in Christology than most of its other proponents have thus far offered,[2] an important demonstration of a matter of theological significance that is both friendly to contemporary scholarship and faithful to church tradition, and an inspiring work of synthetic theology with special attention to Scripture. The integration of biblical-theological interpretation of Scripture and excellent synthetic work were quite satisfying.

With this in mind, the weaknesses that Allen’s book portrays should not be seen as devastating to his task, much less his argument. Perhaps the most glaring weaknesses, in this reviewer’s view, concern Allen’s reconfiguration of Aquinas’s theology in order to make room for Christ’s faith and his argument for Christ’s assumption of fallen human nature. Concerning the former, not enough is offered to demonstrate the manner in which Aquinas may maintain Aristotelian physics of actuality and perfect being while allowing for human development (potentiality). As for Christ’s assumption of fallen human nature, Allen’s argument does not offer enough force to overturn Oliver Crisp’s compelling argument that Christ could not have assumed a fallen human nature (see ch. 4 of Divinity and Humanity, Cambridge University Press). Indeed, even concern for coherence does not provide compulsion for Allen here, for there seem to be other compelling ways to uphold his overall argument while not conceding on this point. However, this would take another article, perhaps another book, to map. These two critiques notwithstanding, Allen’s otherwise careful argument calls for consideration, if not affirmation, that the Christ may, in fact, have had faith.

Don't you wish you could get your hands on Block's NIVAC commentary? It won't be long now!

The good news is that Block’s long-awaited NIVAC commentary on Deuteronomy is undergoing final edits. The page proofs arrived here in Wheaton a few weeks ago, and several of us had the joy of combing all 817 pages to compile author and scripture indices. (I will never again look at an index in quite the same way!) Dr. Block tells me that Zondervan is now doing a final edit before they print it. Unfortunately, the book could still take many months to hit the shelves. It will be worth the wait. I promise.

Meanwhile, the longer 3-volume (1800-page!) version of Block’s Deuteronomy commentary is under consideration by two publishers. If this one goes to press, it will hopefully include all of Block’s Hebrew diagrams for the entire book, making it an excellent set for teaching exegesis courses.

provisional cover

Yesterday, Dr. Block sent off the corrected page proofs for his second spin-off volume of essays on Deuteronomy. Wipf & Stock published the first volume last fall with the title, How I Love Your Torah, O LORD!: Studies in the Book of Deuteronomy. That volume included essays on particular texts of Deuteronomy. The second volume, which includes essays on themes that span the whole book of Deuteronomy, should be available by the end of next week (Wipf & Stock are FAST!). It is entitled, The Gospel According to Moses: Theological and Ethical Reflections on the Book of Deuteronomy. This photo shows the proposed cover as of last week. If you order directly from the publisher and mention coupon code TGATM, you’ll receive a 40% discount!

Wipf & Stock are also publishing a commentary on the latter part of Ezekiel by esteemed Jewish scholar Jacob Milgrom. Milgrom passed away before the project could be completed, and his family asked Dr. Block to oversee the printing of it. Milgrom chose the title himself: Ezekiel’s Hope: A Commentary on Ezekiel 38–48 — Jacob Milgrom and Daniel I. Block In Conversation. It’s also with the publisher. Watch for this sometime soon!

Dr. Block also has a book on worship in the pipeline, a short commentary on Obadiah for a new series he is editing for Zondervan, and he will soon begin working on an 800-page commentary on Amos for a series edited by Seow. I’m sure he has other projects up his sleeves, too. Every day around here brings more surprises!

Stephen R. Holmes, The Holy Trinity: Understanding God’s Life (Paternoster, ? 2012)

George Hunsinger (ed.), Thy Word is Truth: Barth on Scripture (Eerdmans, Feb 2012)

Daniel R. Driver, Brevard Childs, Biblical Theologian: For the Church’s One Bible (Baker Academic, Feb 2012)

Randall Zachman, Reconsidering John Calvin Current Issues in Theology (Cambridge UP, Feb 2012)

Lincoln Harvey (ed.), The Theology of Colin Gunton (T&T Clark, Mar 2012) – paperback

Eileen C. Sweeney, Anselm of Canterbury and the Desire for the Word (Catholic UAP, Apr 2012)

Matthew Levering and Michael Dauphinais (eds.), Reading Romans with St Thomas Aquinas  (Catholic UAP, Apr 2012)

Gary Dorrien, Kantian Reason and Hegelian Spirit: The Idealistic Logic of Modern Theology (Wiley-Blackwell, Apr 2012)

Michael P. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation: Berlin, Barth, and Protestant Theology (Oxford UP, Apr 2012)

R. Michael Allen, Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics: An Introduction and Reader (T&T Clark, May 2012)

Thomas McCall, Forsaken: The Trinity, the Cross and Why It Matters (IVP Academic, May 2012)

Nathan MacDonald, et al. (eds.), Genesis and Christian Theology (Eerdmans, May 2012)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ecumenical, Academic, and Pastoral Work, 1931-1932 Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol 11 (Fortress, June 2012)

Blomberg, Gaffin, Spencer, Wall, and Westphal, Biblical Hermeneutics: Five Views (IVP Academic, June 2012)

Richard J. Regan (trans.), On Power: by Thomas Aquinas (Oxford UP, July 2012) – abridgment

Thomas Oden, John Wesley’s Teachings, 2 vols (Zondervan, Aug 2012)

John Webster, God Without Measure: Essays in Christian Doctrine (T&T Clark, Oct 2012)

___, The Domain of the Word: Scripture and Theological Reason (T&T Clark, Oct 2012)

Twice (in both cases by people qualified to say such things) in recent weeks I have heard David Moffitt’s recently published dissertation referred to as “revolutionary.” So what’s all the fuss?

Moffitt’s argument has two strands that may earn the title “revolutionary.” The first is that the resurrection of Jesus, far from being peripheral or non-existent in Hebrews, actually plays a crucial role in the author’s argument that Christ is the exalted Son of God, our faithful high priest, and our forerunner in the faith who has already received the eschatological inheritance promised to us. The second is that atonement, rather than being enacted at the cross, takes place in the heavenly sanctuary where Jesus presents his life (not his death) on the altar. In Moffitt’s own summarizing words: “[h]is death sets the sequence into motion. His appearance before God in heaven effects atonement. The bridge between the two is his resurrection” (294).

The focal points of Moffitt’s arguments are as follows. First, Jesus is presented as an embodied human being in heaven—this can only be the case if he was raised from the dead. Second, Jesus is the forerunner of those who will inherit a “better resurrection” (11:35)—this can only be true if he himself has undergone that resurrection. Third, Hebrews is very clear that Jesus was not a priest on earth (8:1–4) but only in the heavenly sanctuary, and so we need to rethink the idea that Jesus’ offering of himself took place while on the cross. Fourth, Moffitt draws on recent studies in Leviticus observing that the significance of blood is not in the death of the animal but in its life—Jesus is approved as high priest by his offering of his own “indestructible life” (7:16), the resurrected life that he offered on the altar in heaven following his resurrection and ascension. Prior to the resurrection he did not have that indestructible life, and so he can hardly have offered it to God as a priest.

Much more could be said; undoubtedly many reviews will be appearing in print and online contexts in the months to come (See my more thorough, and largely positive, review in a forthcoming issue of Themelios). For the moment, however, my question is this: is the logical sequence of the atonement as Moffitt has presented it consonant with the rest of the New Testament? Without undermining the significance of the resurrection, other NT authors do speak of an atoning death: “Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3); “we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son” (Rom 5:10); “by his wound you were healed” (1 Pet 2:24). One also wonders about John 19:30—“It is finished.” What was finished, if not the mission of Jesus, part of which was to offer himself as an atoning sacrifice for our sins?

We should not dismiss a theory about how Hebrews views the atonement simply because it does not seem to be what every other NT author says about the atonement. But I will be very interested to see how Moffitt’s proposal works not only in Hebrews (on which I find it rather convincing) but in a broader NT perspective on the atonement. To offer one brief example: Romans 3:24–25 states that we are justified (no, I’m not going to get into that discussion!) through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus, whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation.” If we take up Moffitt’s perspective, must we understand the “public” element of Jesus’ self-offering as taking place in the heavenly sanctuary before the heavenly court, rather than on the cross before the crowds?

Moffitt’s book is mostly deserving of the hype it has received. Whether it moves past hype and becomes a turning point in how we understand the atonement in the New Testament remains to be seen.

Imagine a Western church leader or church member interested in donating to an overseas cause, in a judicious way. Or, imagine a politically-minded person, wanting to think through the relationship between Christian faith and aid and development. Then again, perhaps the reader simply wants to learn more about Catholic social ethics, African theology, or the link between dogmatics and social justice. There are many sorts of reader to whom this book would appeal, and that wide-ranging application is part of its appeal.

Stan Chu Ilo wrote this book in response to the 2009 papal encyclical Charity in Truth (Caritas in Veritate, henceforth CIV). Ilo applies this to the African context, particularly the issue of international aid and development for Africa. He suggests that Christianity, a belief about being transformed by God’s grace, equally implies social transformation and the pursuit of justice. This comes about because Christians are shaped and defined by the gracious charity – love – of God, and in turn that love moves them to be compassionate people in solidarity with others, especially the poor and weak.

Ilo’s first chapter explores CIV and Catholic social ethics. He agrees with CIV that true development must be based on a correct understanding of the human person (1). The Trinity and love are the basis for Christianity, and Christ reveals truth to mankind. Thus, charity “inheres” in truth (4) and ontology comes before praxis. Charity is participation in God’s love; humans too are defined by God, sharing a common trait: the image of God. Humans are “intrinsically relational and objectively valued” because of this common image, and the telos of humanity is communion in the Triune God. Humans are defined by relationships to God, the world, and other people. It is the cross that makes communion possible and restores broken relationships of every type – which means that Christians must be about the work of reconciliation and justice because it is tied to the gospel itself. Ilo decries globalization, which he believes marginalizes the weak and leads to social disintegration; Christians should not be driven by greed and consumeristic capitalism, but by grace and love. The Roman Catholic position is that human rights derive from the imago Dei all humans bear, which contrasts with overly-individualistic or utilitarian worldviews.

Moving on, Ilo examines a broad sweep of ethical issues – business, international aid, subsidiarity and solidarity, and the need for ecological ethics, among others. He repeatedly emphasizes the need to seek the common good of humanity, the values of subsidiarity (assisting people to help themselves) and solidarity, and human equality and co-dependence. Some of the principles he proposes for aid in Africa sound this same theme: a basis in God, a need for a theological anthropology, and respect for and solidarity when working with Africans.

The major theme of the third chapter is “homelessness”, which entails isolation, lack of reconciliation, struggles over identity, and lack of hope for the future; this despair and alienation is addressed by God, who offers holistic salvation. Ilo reiterates often that what Africa needs is a communally-shaped “regenerative ethics” (125). What is Africa’s current situation? Aid has often made the situation worse, poverty has increased in most of the continent (half of Africa rates in the “extreme poverty” category), HIV/AIDs and malaria kill countless people, and globalization further marginalizes the continent. Ilo diagnoses several reasons for the poverty and under-development of Africa: internal corruption (though he avers this is not a main cause), a top-down rather than grassroots approach to aid, unrealistic goals set by non-Africans, and an unsustainable debt burden, among other issues. He goes so far as to condemn globalization and Africa’s international debt as sin, since they suppress people, promote materialism, and judge with a purely economic standard. These two forces also fail to seek the common good of all.

How, then, do Christians and the church provide truly meaningful aid? The justification for the church’s service is Jesus’ command to love one’s neighbors; Jesus’ ministry demonstrated care for the poor and salvific freedom from sin and evils. Ilo coins the term “total ecclesiology” here, and defines it as ecclesiology in which God’s Word, the sacraments, and service are the essential building blocks. The church cannot be a sign to the world if not involved in it, he reasons. At the same time, the church must remember its origin (the Trinity), identity (God’s people), and goal (eschatological community). These truths enable the church to evaluate the state and other cultural institutions and values; these truths must be known before people can be freed to pursue God’s plan for them. What principles drive such involvement? Christian charity in truth is inspired by God’s love and seeks above all to make it concrete, cares for the whole person, and relies on those competent in their fields. Charity witnesses to Christian beliefs, and is just as much a part of the spiritual life as weekly worship services and prayer.

In the last chapter, the author delves into specifics of how charity in truth can transform Africa. He eschews the dangerous division in African theology between inculturation and liberation, instead following a “missional, cultural hermeneutic approach” which draws upon context (history of Africa and Christianity, local culture, etc.), the Christian message, and Christian experiences in that context. The four roles Ilo lays out for the church in Africa are: 1) a credible, “prophetic” lifestyle, 2) critique and engagement with culture in practical acts of love, 3) improving conditions so people can take control of their own lives, and 4) engaging in education and cultural development reforms. His conclusion is that the church is, at its core, a reconciled family of Trinitarian communion, where leaders, laity, ethnicity, gender, age, and so forth come together as one. To live this way, the church in Africa must emphasize the blood of Christ, which transforms people and confers a new, common identity that trumps all other loyalties. Salvation and reconciliation are the church, and their impact must be seen in all aspects of life, from personal identity to ecological concerns to development plans. Hope for Africa – for all creatures on earth – springs from Christ’s resurrection, and the salvation he brings liberates people and points them to a new and hopeful future.

Those theologically-minded and less well-versed in ethics will appreciate Ilo’s grounding of social involvement in core Christian dogmas. Another strength is his championing the role of the imago Dei in Christian theology, in shaping human identity and a universal human nature. One might have hoped he would spend more time in biblical texts, but regardless, his case is clearly made. What is less clear is what Ilo means by the repeated phrases “prophetic” and “social gospel”, which he does not define (perhaps the latter would be obvious to a Catholic reader; it was not to this Protestant one). As a Protestant, this reader also disagreed with some aspects of the book touching on natural law and assumptions about the goodness of humanity.

One aspect of Ilo’s book that could be controversial in certain circles is his repeated invocation of the Trinity as a model for the church, which some would read as tending too much towards social Trinitarianism. While those areas of the book could be more carefully written, he has still demonstrated that the Trinity has significant bearing on ecclesiology and the imago Dei, particularly in the areas of solidarity, community, and love. His challenges to capitalism and globalization may not sit well with Western readers, but they ought to be taken seriously, especially in light of the statistics of African debt, development, and poverty. His work also agrees with that of Agbonkhianmeghe E. Orobator on the issue of HIV/AIDS, noting the extent to which it ravages the continent and the destruction it brings upon people, as well as retarding attempts at development. His appendix on the ten commandments for working in Africa – and other Majority World settings, one would think – are particularly relevant and on-target, as is his indictment of Western post-Enlightenment anthropologies. African theologies can offer a corrective to Western theologies here, drawing on ubuntu theology and the idea of life as participation, among others. His “total ecclesiology” model assists in explaining how social involvement is essential to the church’s identity and mission, though never at the expense of the Christian message. Perhaps he might even provoke some Protestants to take the sacraments more seriously, as he draws on the Eucharist to show how reconciliation is central in the church’s identity. Ilo’s book is worth purchasing for several reasons. Hopefully, the author has indeed drawn readers beyond their own limited worldview, by broadening their horizons and providing thought-provoking questions that will stick with them long after the book has been put down.

Many thanks to the publishers for generously and graciously providing this gratis review copy.