The Antiquity of Postmodernism

This article first appeared in the Viewpoint column of the Christian Research Journal, volume 22, number 01 (1999).

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Postmodernism is supposedly the latest threat to the gospel of Jesus Christ and is being handled with a certain degree of trepidation, as if it is some new and strange phenomenon. It appears Christians have been caught off guard, for just as we were beginning to effectively address modernism, it dissipated, leaving us in the structureless, ground-shifting morass that is postmodern society.

Yet even a cursory review of early church history will confirm that the central figure of the gospel was born into a cultural scene not unlike our own and, furthermore, the gospel spread rapidly in such an environment. For this reason, two points seem to follow:

1. Contrary to what the postmodernist prophets who populate our Western universities would have us believe, their latest and greatest philosophy is not “new” at all. This serves to reinforce Solomon’s astute observation: “There is nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9 NASB).

2. The gospel is not at all threatened by this worn-out philosophy dressed up in a new disguise, and therefore Christians should not feel at all intimidated in addressing it directly without apology.

The slippery nature of postmodernism makes it difficult to describe in simple terms. Os Guinness, Senior Fellow at Trinity Forum, offers a good working definition:

There is no truth, only truths. There are no principles, only preferences. There is no grand reason, only reasons. There is no privileged civilization (or culture, beliefs, periods, and styles), only a multiplicity of cultures, beliefs, periods, and styles. There is no universal justice, only interests and the competition of interest groups. There is no grand narrative of human progress, only countless stories of where people and their cultures are now. There is no simple reality or any grand objectivity of universal, detached knowledge, only a ceaseless representation of everything in terms of everything else.¹

Historian Gertrude Himmelfarb puts it in capsule form: “Postmodernism is the denial of the very idea of truth, reality, objectivity, reason or facts — all words which postmodernists now actually put in quotation marks! It’s a totally permissive philosophy — anything goes — and it’s extraordinary how far it has gone!”²

It is interesting that God became a man at a point in time and in a milieu very similar to the one in which we find ourselves. After all, He had a choice. He was born into a province of the mighty Roman Empire. The place was teeming with Greeks, Romans, Jews, Africans, Syrians, and other Near Eastern peoples. It was a multicultural, pluralistic region rife with political turbulence and intrigue. There was a wide array of competing and sometimes collaborating, interest groups. In addition to Judaism, polytheistic and pantheistic pagan religions proliferated. The occult of Babylonian roots was prevalent in many circles. Oriental and Egyptian mysticism were commonplace.

It is onto this unlikely scene that Christ appeared, boldly making the exclusive and rather “politically incorrect” statement that He is the Way and the Truth and the Life (John 14:6). Consider such a profound disclosure in the context in which it was presented. He knew the context. He knew the audience. He knew the power of what He was saying.

Later, the apostles and early Christians lived and worked in a similar setting. Renowned biblical scholar William Barclay describes the first few centuries of Christian history as “an age when men accepted a kind of amalgam of religions. The Roman Emperor Alexander Severus had in his private chapel images of Abraham, Orpheus, Apollonius, and Christ. Maximus of Tyre said that ‘God is a name that all religions share.’ Symmachus said in a speech in the Roman senate: ‘There cannot be one way to so great a secret.’”³ How did the apostles face such a seemingly daunting situation? They wrote and circulated letters such as Colossians with its tremendous Christology. Jesus is the image of the invisible God. In Him all the fullness of God is pleased to dwell. In Him are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. In Him all the fullness of deity dwells in a body. Christ is all sufficient; nothing and no one else is needed (Colossians 1:15–20; 2:3, 9–10). In a syncretistic world the early Christians insisted on the unique Christ. Through their word and daily conduct they held Christ and His work up for all to see, to compare, and to decide. They made claims and gave solid reasons for their claims (1 Corinthians 15:3–8).

In this manner the gospel spread and was firmly believed by many from all walks of life. Young and old. Jew and Gentile. Male and female. Scholar and hedonist. Aristocrat and plebeian. Praetorian guard and foot solider. What was the big attraction? The attraction was a unique Person in contrast to the meaningless banal fare of the day. Jesus and the apostles did not seek by coercion to eliminate the religions, cultures, and political groups that existed around them, nor were they intimidated by their existence. Let them compete in the cluttered marketplace of ideas. Bring all contenders and let’s compare them to Christ. Let’s compare claims and reasons for claims. Let’s compare a God of covenant with the whimsical gods of pagan mythologies. Let’s compare the Old Covenant of the Jewish religion with the New Covenant enacted by the blood of Christ. Which is better? Which is more efficacious?

Up until recently Christians in the Western world would have lived a charmed life. We have been Christians presenting the gospel to quasi-Christians. Close to two thousand years of a Judeo-Christian culture has laid the foundational work for us. There are even some evangelicals who adopt historical revisionism in order to wax romantic about “good old” medieval days when the so-called Church (read: cleric-run Christianity) ruled society and “Christianity” was the only religion. Listening to them one would think their ideal for America is a modern version of medieval Europe. They neglect to point out the glaring difficulties with such nostalgia. Notably, pre-Renaissance was also pre-Reformation. For it was the Reformation that finally broke the stranglehold of the cleric class on society. The Reformation initiated the printing of the Bible and other books in the vernacular tongues for the nonclassical Latin peoples to read for themselves, if they were literate; if not, they could at least hear it in their own language.⁴ The Renaissance and the Reformation were a justifiable reaction against a coercive and oppressive Christianity whose corrupt ruling class imposed its will on the people, keeping them in a collective state of superstitious ignorance and fear.⁵

As we approach the closing of this millennium, the philosophy of postmodernism is upon us, and many Christians are running for cover as if the gospel isn’t powerful enough to handle it. Some of us are nervously wringing our hands about living in a pluralistic society (which isn’t going away any time soon), implying that the gospel isn’t able to stand alone as an attractive and viable proposition without being propped up by a supportive pro-Christian cultural infrastructure. Those more assertive among us are attempting to address the issue by massaging the gospel in a good-hearted but feeble attempt to make it more palatable for the postmodern mind. This should be clearly seen as a futile exercise, for there is no real way to effectively massage the gospel. It is what it is and has never changed. It is still “the power of God unto salvation” (Romans 1:16 KJV).

I submit, at the end of the day, that the postmodern mind needs to hear exactly what the minds of antiquity heard. The same starting question ringing through the ages: What think ye of Christ?

—Paul Kerr

Paul Kerr is a scholar dedicated to providing thoughtful analysis and commentary to encourage the Christian community in tirelessly and effectively contending for the faith. Paul, his wife, and their two children are members of North Coast Calvary Chapel. (Editor’s note: Biography as originally published in 1999 print edition.)

NOTES

1. Os Guiness, Fit Bodies Fat Minds (Grand Rapids; Baker Books, 1994), 105.
2. Quoted in Jo Ann Lewis, “It’s Postmodern and If You Don’t Get It You Don’t Get It,” Washington Post, 27 March 1995.
3. William Barclay, A Beginner’s Gude to the New Testament (Louisville, KY: Westminster Knox Press, 1922), 58.
4. A treatise by Martin Luther titled On Christian Liberty was one of these “other books.” It was devoted to the proposition that by faith alone we are made righteous and through faith all believers are priests, meaning that the priesthood is universal. Louis Snyder describes the impact of Luther’s literary work: “Pope Leo X was at first disposed to treat Luther’s defection lightly, but he soon realized that the pen of the German heretic was shaking the Church to its very foundation, On 15 June 1520, he sent Johann Maier of Eck to the Germanies with a papal bull of excommunication, in which Luther was called upon to recant or face the wrath of the highest power of Christendom” (Great Turning Points in History [New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 1996], 60). Luther was summoned to give an account of his position before the Diet of Worms. Luther’s defense was poignant and brief: “Unless I am convicted of error by the testimony of Scripture or by plain reason (for I place no faith in the mere authority of the Pope, or of councils, which have often erred, and which have contradicted one another, recognizing, as I do, no other guide but the Bible, the Word of God), I cannot and will not retract, for we must never act contrary to our conscience.” Of this event, Lord Acton wrote, “Luther at Worms is the most important and pregnant fact in our history, for there he defied all authority, Pope, council, and Emperor alike.” (Great Turning Points in History, 60.)
5. It should be mentioned that those in secular academia who smugly attack Christianity are, for the most part, attacking the medieval “imperialistic” version of it, as if that version were a true representation of original Christian thought and practice as presented by Christ and the apostles. Whether this is done purposefully or due to a profound ignorance, their young audiences leave the crowded lecture hall with a repulsive picture of the Christian faith. It is completely understandable that they would reject such an unappealing image in favor of postmodernism or whatever the specific professor’s pet philosophy happens to be at the time. In this blurry context, however, they are not rejecting the gospel at all, or even a reasonable facsimile of it. It is imperative that we know the difference if we are effectively to help others make these distinctions. Let us be sure that if someone rejects the gospel it is indeed the gospel they are rejecting.