Deconstruction - A Dirty Word?

Addendum 2 to chapter three.

In this post, I will make a few more salient comments about anti-deconstruction writers Alisa Childers and Tim Barnett, and their book, “The Deconstruction of Christianity: What It Is, Why It’s Destructive, and How to Respond”. I think their book is one of the better representatives of the anti-deconstructionist position than most. Its relevance to our journey will be self-evident.

Firstly, let me say the following about them. Despite their ardently anti-deconstruction positionality and belief that the term “deconstruction” should be erased from a Christian’s vocabulary, they are very much in favour of rethinking traditions, wrestling through doubts and questioning leadership hierarchies. The principal terminological concern they have is really linked to the great weight of political and philosophical baggage which the term “deconstruction” drags behind it. This naturally spills over into a sharp critique of practitioners of the kind of deconstruction they have in their crosshairs. I also want to reiterate that the book is written from a context of profound Christian faith, a desire for perseverance and a commitment to questioning. In view of my commitment to “deconstruction”, they would almost certainly take umbrage with my methodological approach. However, I think their book is brilliant and, despite some of my disagreements, I would strongly recommend it.

I do, nonetheless, want to take them to task on some issues by way of introduction to the final philosophical platform that forms the foundation of my approach. I will make a brief foray into the contours of the work of the father of deconstruction, the Algerian French, Jewish philosopher and literary critic Jacques Derrida. There remain elements of his literary political critique that I think will sharpen our Christ centred deconstructionist lenses. For now, I will rehearse three areas of concern I have with Childers and Barnett.

In what I think is a most reasonable, if ultimately flawed argument, Childers and Barnett insist that any trajectory for a reflective faith should seek “reformation” and not “deconstruction”. They posit that words which begin with “de” in English generally involve a dissolution of a premise with no intention of putting it back together. So, to “destabilise” something is to take away stability without any thought of making it stable again. To “depose” someone is to take them out of power without any thought towards how to fill the vacuum. On the other hand, words that begin with “re” in English imply a commitment to putting something back together. As such, “relocate” is not just to “dislocate” but to think about a new location. To “reform” or to “reconstruct” both imply a restoration (there's another “re” word!) of order, balance and discipline. In view of this, they challenge Christians not to deconstruct but to reform.

Secondly, they are incredibly critical of deconstructionists who claim to don the mantle of Martin Luther. They cite certain deconstructionist writers who say that the Reformation is the greatest example of deconstruction within Christian history. After all, Martin Luther thoroughly scrutinised papal authority, the hierarchy of the Catholic bishopric and the sales of indulgences. However, for Childers and Barnett, those who appeal to the deconstructionist bent of Luther have grossly misunderstood him. After all, Luther’s intention was not to reform the church around a revamped social vision, but around scripture. Luther wasn't attempting to destabilise or challenge the authority of the Bible, but rather to reinstitute it, for he felt it had started to play second fiddle to Catholic tradition. Consequently, Luther’s enterprise cannot be called deconstruction - it was not an exercise in tearing up the rulebook, but an attempt to determine what the correct rule book was and tear up any rival alternatives!

The final issue I wish to raise wraps its arms around the first two issues in dialectical fashion and forms an overall synthesis. One of the key criticisms that Barnett and Childers raise is the somewhat amorphous nature of the definition of deconstruction. They have defined deconstruction for themselves in narrowly specific fashion and set about to undermine the philosophical and rational foundations of the form of deconstruction they identify. Whether it is intentional or not, they then apply a broad-brush dismissal of deconstruction on the basis of the particular brand of deconstruction they have so defined.

I wish to push back on each of these positions briefly before suggesting why I am not ready (‘yet?) to let go of the term “deconstruction”, despite my unambiguously transparent loyalty to Christian discipleship. I am not married to the term “deconstruction” with blind loyalty and, indeed, I am interested to know what you as readers think of the term. I am perfectly prepared to relinquish the term if there is sufficiently persuasive reason to do so.

In what follows I will contextualise some of my rebuttals within my understanding of discipleship to the Messiah as a lead in to why I think Derridean ideas have considerably more merit than Childers and Barnett permit. Just as with my appraisal of Descartes and Heidegger, I have no mandate to defend Jacques Derrida or his philosophy – indeed, I would take strong issue with a number of his claims. However, I do think when he is read judiciously, some key weaknesses are revealed in many mainstream approaches to discipleship. Interestingly, Childers and Barnett are eager in their writing to combat any suggestion that their anti-deconstructionism is simply a reflection of their fear. They wish to quell the idea that their animus towards deconstruction derives from concern that the deconstructionist lobby will gain sufficient momentum to leave Christian orthodoxy vulnerable to interpretation by left-leaning postmodernists who do not see scripture as authoritative, and even see scripture as the problem. Whilst my reading of these two authors convinces me that they themselves may not palpably harbour such fear, the defensive positioning of some anti-deconstructionists does not fill me with the same confidence. A similar defensiveness became prevalent amongst evangelical critics of the emerging church movement. This kind of prickly defensiveness at times presents the Christian faith as so fragile a citadel, any innovative ideas regarding its interpretation are seen as a threat and something from which believing communities must be protected. This kind of dialogue-stifling over protectiveness is not helpful in the long run. If an idea is flawed, I would rather engage with it and highlight its flaws then bury my head in the sand and pretend it did not exist.

With introductory preamble out of the way, we begin with ‘deconstruction versus reformation’. To be sure, I have no substantial dispute with Childers and Barnett here. Naturally, there are plenty of words in the English language which begin with ‘re’ which would not fit their proposal - words like “reject”, “refuse” or “reinvent” would play into deconstructionist strategizing though, in fairness, the mere existence of this lexicon is not the central issue in their argument. However, there is a reason why I have called this podcast “Christ-centred deconstruction”. I do think it is appropriate to deconstruct certain ideas, but to do so with a deliberately Christocentric (and I reiterate, unhidden) agenda. The reason ideas need deconstruction is because they are quickly co-opted by people from a variety of quarters and relaunched into the social atmosphere. What Childers, Barnett and others like them wish to assert is the importance of biblical authority when it comes to rethinking the Christian faith or grappling with doubts about it. This is, of course, not unreasonable; my difficulty with their position is that they want to separate scripture itself from how it is handled by practitioners, emphasising a correct and incorrect way of reading the biblical text (I think their critique of the likes of Beth Allison Barr and Kristin du Mez is hampered by this separation). This is not difficult when it comes to challenging how slave owning clergy used Genesis 9:25-26 to offer biblical legitimization for enslaving Africans in America and Europe (although, of course, for years, this warped exegesis was accepted within mainstream ecclesiological settings - it was not considered debased or heretical). One does not have to look tremendously far, however, for examples where Christians have genuinely divergent opinions on an issue based on very differing readings of the biblical text. Neither eschews biblical authority, something which Childers and Barnett obliquely acknowledge - but on touchstone social issues like abortion, euthanasia, war and sexual identity, or hot-button doctrinal issues like inerrancy or the essentiality of baptism, separating hermeneutics from practice is not nearly so straightforward.

There are simply going to be some issues upon which faithful Christians do not agree. In order to have a constructive dialogue about them, it makes sense to me that we re-route everything to Jesus, about whom there is much more immediate agreement. Irrespective of one’s denominational commitments, hermeneutical lenses or political embeddedness, Jesus is Lord and King! He is the incarnation of Israel's God and is Israel’s Messiah. He was crucified and resurrected to defeat the powers of death and free humanity from the bondage of sin and corruption. How someone conducts their life with respect to commitment to him, though, is not a monolith. I don't expect any Christians reading this to have any major theoretical disputes with any of the above! To be sure, there are valid and invalid ways of following the Messiah – in the context of a western, capitalist democracy, to be a Christian and own slaves, for example, strikes me as an invalid discipleship. It is cavalier and inaccurate, though, to say a valid discipleship is one based on a “correct” interpretation of scripture and an invalid discipleship is predicated upon an “incorrect” interpretation. Whilst this may be true, it is not axiomatic - two readings of a text can be different but equally valid. I am in no way denying the existence of objective truth (something which Childers and Barnett insist philosophically underpins all deconstructionist journeys). This is precisely why ideas need to be deconstructed; any appeal to biblical authority is only as meaningful as the interpretation of the idea about which we say the Bible is authoritative. Even if I were to accept Barnett and Childers’ understanding of deconstruction, slave owners appealed to scripture to defend enslaving people. In this case, as in several others, the proposition did need to be deconstructed in the sense of torn down never to be rebuilt.

Let me suggest two other less caustic but equally important examples. In Paul's lengthy discourses about justification, he is adamant that justification does not happen by observing the works of Torah, but by pistis Christou. There is a longstanding debate in Pauline studies (one which I think eventually obscures Paul's ideas - but that is a discussion for another time) about the precise meaning of pistis Christou. Does it refer to the believers’ faith in Jesus the Messiah or Jesus’ own faithfulness to God, exhibited by his submission to crucifixion? If you are thinking all the above, then you are probably on the right lines - but erudite scholars have proposed compellingly robust arguments for both positions and landed very heavily on one side of the debate.

What about the thorny question of the “essentiality” of baptism? My own view is that questions of essentiality would seem strange and even banal to adherents of the early Jesus movement. Baptism was an initiatory rite, by which one entered the Kingdom of God and became immersed in the saving events of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Others argue that baptism merely publicly acknowledges an inward transformation made privately in prayer. For certain denominations, questions such as these become the litmus test for authentic discipleship. The doctrinal impasse may well stem from the erroneous reasoning of one side of the debate, but how this plays out in the life of a community will ultimately rest upon the practitioners’ stance – that is, their reading of the key passages. In the end then, to deconstruct the notion of baptism, is to ask whether there are ways of understanding it which are more faithful to Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of God. It may not yield neat answers, but this does not render invalid deconstructing the issue. It may not lead to a ‘reformed’ position, but may well yield to broader thinking, deeper understanding and, if not a wholesale change of doctrine by any group, could foster greater harmony between communities who see it very differently.

This leads rather nicely into Childers and Barnett’s dispute with deconstructionists’ claim that they are only doing what the great 16^th century reformer Martin Luther did – after all, didn't Luther deconstruct a magisterium of systemic power (the Roman Catholic Church)? The recourse to Martin Luther here, to be sure, should be understood as symbolic - let me explain. Childers and Barnett would be unsympathetic with deconstructionists attempting to identify with any figure of Christian history who has attempted to buck the system, go against the grain or raise a challenge against a perceived orthodoxy - if this figure remained within the bounds of Christian faith. They are uncomfortable with the idea of deconstructionists attempting to legitimate their enterprise by saying, “it's only what Christian thinkers have always been doing”. There are two reasons for this.

The first, as I have hinted above, is that many of these historic Christian commentators were not in any way turning their backs on the faith. For the large part, they were trying to help people return to the sphere of biblical authority. Here Martin Luther would be a sterling example. As sharp a critique as he raised against the Roman Catholicism he had grown up with, it was only because he believed that the papacy had drifted from biblical truth. The second reason is that Childers and Barnett want to dispel any suggestion that deconstruction is compatible with a healthy faith. If a “deconstructor” can reasonably argue that deconstruction is what Christian thinkers have always done, it becomes very difficult to challenge their position on the grounds of its incompatibility with Christian Faith. The first of these reasons I will deal with here - the second is the subject of my final rebuttal below.

Even if we commend Luther for his laudable attempt to help the church recommit to scripture, his cry of sola scriptura (scripture alone) was riddled with problems. Whilst he may have rightly wanted to wrest power from a corrupted bishopric, it is very difficult to maintain that scripture only now had the final say. Luther rejected what he called the “strawy” epistle of James because he saw it in conflict with the “faith only” and “grace only” gospel of Paul. His reconstruction of ancient Judaism as a religion of works righteousness has been shown to be fatally flawed (an issue which the last century and a half of Pauline scholarship has attempted to rethink). His attempt to effectively make the circumcisers of Galatians the functional equivalent of Catholics selling salvation at a price was not ultimately an attempt to reassert biblical authority, but to deal with his (absolutely correct) personal disdain for the idea that anyone could by their way into the afterlife. In other words, I remain as resolutely sceptical about the term “biblical authority” as Barnett and Childers do about the word “deconstruction”. Let me be clear - there is no dispute amongst faithful Christians that the Bible is authoritative - deconstruction is critical because how we appropriate that authority matters greatly for how we ultimately apprehend and practice obedience to God. To simply appeal to biblical authority is not enough. Many assertions of biblical truth are objective, and others are validly open to interpretation (often very wide interpretation). It is simply my view that if Jesus is the yardstick for how we behave, differences in interpretation do not need to be the death knell to our unity.

My final concern with these two authors actually draws upon one of my agreements with their appraisal. I think they are quite correct to say that the definition of deconstruction is unstable when it is applied to faith commitment. It is certainly not unambiguously clear in the sources what is being deconstructed and what the net result is. For these reasons they have camped firmly in the arena of high-profile deconstructionists with influential platforms who have deconstructed out of faith altogether amidst the maelstrom of the very postmodernist assumptions which the authors rage against. As such, the deconstruction journeys of people like DC Talk’s Kevin Max, Hawk Nelson’s John Steingard and “Mr I Kissed Dating Goodbye” himself, Joshua Harris, are treated as archetypal, and deconstruction is effectively equated with deconversion.

In fairness to Childers and Barnett, they are very upfront about their methodological considerations; I fear, however, that their candour does not translate as an even-handed treatment. It would not be much different from me deciding to equate all conservatives with biblical fundamentalists and lumping reasonable and thoughtful critical conservative scholars with young earth creationists. Naturally, once you have defined deconstructionists as “deconversionists”, all bets are off. Our authors are certainly correct that there are those in the process of deconstruction who have sinister motives and hidden agendas; however, telling us that there are always bad apples in the bunch is scarcely innovative. Childers and Barnett are committed believers and articulate writers. There are, on the other hand, those writing against deconstruction who are little more than right wing propagandists, those who treat critical thinking as an act of rebellion and those so hopelessly wedded to their version of orthodoxy any perceived dissenter is an enemy of the faith. I would never deign to say that any of the above are typical of those writing in opposition to faith deconstruction. I would simply acknowledge that there are competing agendas, morally obtuse agendas and genuinely confused ones. Those in Christian leadership are certainly called upon to be guardians of the flock at times and those who protect the vulnerable all the time. It remains important, nonetheless, for any overseer to distinguish between protecting innocent faith and demonising contrary positions. As I will elaborate in an upcoming post, the philosophical matrix from which deconstruction emerges has much to teach us without the need to swallow it in its entirety. It is with this final thought that I wish to wrap up my review of Childers and Barnett for now.

I don't know what these two authors would make of my critique; I would certainly hope they would see it as judicious and largely complimentary. I have after all urged my audience to seek out their book and engage with it honestly and fairly. I learned much from them and I'm grateful for their devotion and their efforts. If I could sum up my complaint with their methodological approach it would be captured thusly: churches need to be able to deal with complexity. Not everything is black and white. Fortunately, the things which are most important to trusting Jesus the Messiah are not complex; but if the Anselmian dictum that fides quaerens intellectum (faith seeks understanding) holds true, (and I firmly believe it does), part of the road to maturity is a faith that asks questions, even difficult ones, without fear of where the answers might lead. A key component in the arsenal of a questioning faith, is courage. Difficult questions rarely have non-difficult answers; often time they scarcely have meaningful answers at all. As disorienting as this might appear it is courage that permits us to ask them anyway. I leave you with this thought; so often the pursuit of truth is not about finding answers but simply asking the questions - anyone who has read the book of Job could not fail to miss this. You might say that often time the answer is asking the question. Job, like many of the imprecatory Psalms and Psalms of lament, is an antitheodicy. It doesn't attempt to explain why the Almighty permits certain things to happen; it simply allows people to scream and shout and cry with reckless abandon. Somehow in the mystery of that trauma, the poets and prophets find resolution in the presence of divinity - and so can we. It would be remiss of me to pretend that every question critical to a deconstruction journey has a neat, linear, meaningful or ultimately satisfying answer. However, it would be equally remiss of me to suggest that this is a necessary hindrance to a Jesus-centric faith. In a quasi-cynical retort to the Socratic dictum that the unexamined life is not worth living, it is truly said that the intellectually constrained life is not worth examining. Difficult conversations are rarely the enemy of faith; cowardly faith, however, is often the enemy of conversation - and goodness knows if future generations are going to trust Messiah, we are going to need to talk.