First thoughts on Malesic’s Secret Faith
Posted on | December 30, 2009 | No Comments
Many of us who grew up in the evangelical sub-culture at the end of the 20th century are intimately familiar with its strange brew of revival religion, middle-class family values, and postmodern identity politics. Out of this backdrop, Jonathan Malesic’s new book, Secret Faith in the Public Square (Brazos Press, 2009),
is both refreshing and surprisingly retro in its call for the concealment of Christian identity in public life. Malesic suggests that Christianity is endangered not so much by the external threat of secularism, but by the church’s failure to keep the “secret” of its faith. As Jesus says in the sixth chapter of Matthew, Christians should rather “give visible expression of their piety only behind closed doors, precisely so that they do not try to parlay their religious identity into acclaim in public life, as the hypocrites do” (p. 18). This intentional secret-keeping does not mean that our interior faith will not have practical ramifications. That is inescapable. But rather, for the sake of our religious identity, we need to avoid a profligate use of the Christian faith as a talisman in public life, viz. the businesswoman who broadcasts her Christianity with an ichthus in the phone directory, or the politician who mentions his favorite book of the Bible while campaigning in rural Kentucky.
Many other critiques of modern liberalism, such as those of Stanley Hauerwas or Alasdair MacIntyre, attempt to answer modernity’s challenge to the distinctiveness of the Christian community. Malesic enlists Hauerwas as an ally to the extent that the latter challenges the church’s capitulation to the categories of American public life. However, Malesic’s project diverges from Hauerwas over the means by which Christians should maintain that distinctiveness. For Hauerwas, there is only the visible witness. Malesic confronts this “one-sided” prioritization of the visible over the invisible church, preferring a faith that is intentionally concealed. But at this point, while critiquing the exclusively visible identity of Hauerwas’ church, Malesic himself adopts the distinction between the visible and the invisible, and the inner life versus the public life. But what if this duality is itself flawed? What if there is a better way to frame the identity and mission of the church?
In a later chapter, Malesic employs the metaphor of Christian faith as a museum artifact to show how we might act as “gatekeepers” of our religious identity. Some artifacts, precisely because of their value, ought to be hidden away, thereby preserving them for those who understand their value. In many ways, this is a helpful distinction, particularly for an ecclesial culture which sometimes prostitutes its identity for rather trivial political and social causes. But this does beg the question: What then is the nature of Christian faith? At times, Malesic implies that faith is essentially (though not comprehensively) interior. It is a religious disposition – a unique appreciation for the mysteries of God. However, this definition may not satisfy everyone. Granted, no metaphor can sustain itself indefinitely, ad absurdum, but if we run with the museum artifact analogy a little further, a key distinction emerges. If the artifact (i.e. faith) is something to be observed and quietly admired, then we might appreciate the importance of keeping it secret, lest it be devalued by overuse. (This is, in fact, the very reason why many in the Reformed tradition have decreased the frequency of eucharistic observance.) However, the force of this metaphor only holds true if the artifact is itself rather inert – an object which bestows value only on those who can authentically observe it. However, this appears to be at odds with the eschatological drama of redemption. God’s election of Israel and the Church is not done in isolation from the nations, but for the nations. Abraham, the hero of Kierkegaard and Malesic, received a promise that was universal in scope. The akedah of Abraham confirms the patriarch’s “authenticity,” to use existentialist language, but it also establishes the hope of not only Abraham’s family, but the reconciliation of the world.
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