“This has been the hardest decision of my life. It has been an indescribable privilege to be Bishop of the ancient Diocese of Durham, to work with a superb team of colleagues, to take part in the work of God’s kingdom here in the north-east, and to represent the region and its churches in the House of Lords and in General Synod. I have loved the people, the place, the heritage and the work. But my continuing vocation to be a writer, teacher and broadcaster, for the benefit (I hope) of the wider world and church, has been increasingly difficult to combine with the complex demands and duties of a diocesan bishop. I am very sad about this, but the choice has become increasingly clear.”

Sad indeed. Not so much because Wright has chosen wrongly (God knows). But rather because our contemporary context has forced him to choose. I’ve no idea what life is like as a diocesan bishop, but if it’s anything like much of contemporary pastoral ministry, no doubt it involves a heavy amount of administrative work. The church has allowed modern life to push parish work in an increasingly administrative direction. Consequently, most pastors are sorely tempted to neglect the ministry of the Word and prayer to wait on tables; we’ve ceased to function as elders and have resigned ourselves to serving as deacons.  Wright, who has always advocated for living within the tension that exists between the ecclesial and scholarly communities, shows just how hard it can be to straddle the fence in our modern context.

I don’t fault Wright for leaving the church. But I do fault the church for not making room for its pastors and bishops to function as robust scholars and theologians. Sad times are these when the only place a Christian theologian can flourish is outside the church.

Yet, by God’s grace, I have faith to believe a better day is dawning.

If you’re interested in hearing a Reformed Baptist critique of Tom Wright’s new book on justification, check out this panel discussion featuring Southern Baptist theologians Tom Schriener, Mark Seifrid, Brian Vickers and Denny Burke. (I think Burke is a Southern Baptist. Maybe not.) The panel is moderated by Al Mohler.

Wheaton College’s Center for Applied Christian Ethics recently hosted an amiable dialog between Francis Beckwith, recent revert to Catholicism, and Timothy George, the Dean of Beeson Divinity School, on the question, “Can one be both evangelical and Catholic?” Both men think so, and even claim to be both (though George’s catholicism has a little “c”).  An interesting discussion.

Aside from the caustic tone of the review (and to be fair, Wright’s tone wasn’t always particularly charitable in his book), and a few mischaracterizations of Wright’s position (contra Bray, Wright doesn’t see Christ as a “plan B” after Israel’s failure), I agreed with much of what Bray wrote.

However, I didn’t find myself in much agreement with Bray’s concluding comments.

If anything is clear from Bishop Wright’s book, it is that it is impossible to serve two masters at the same time. Either one is a diocesan bishop or one is a serious scholar—having a day job in Auckland Castle and pottering around with scholarship in one’s spare time is not a viable option in today’s world. Bishop Wright pleads lack of time for what even he recognizes is the inadequacy of his response to Mr. Piper, but if that is so, he needs to reconsider his priorities. There is no shame in giving up scholarship, or in resigning a bishopric, when the pressures become too great, but doing a half-baked job in one is bound to lead to the suspicion that one is doing an equally half-baked job in the other, and that the long-suffering recipients of such treatment are ending up with the worst of both worlds….Let us hope and pray that he will see this for himself and decide whether he wants to be a bishop or a scholar—but not both. We would all be better off if he has the courage to take the right decision and choose one or the other, but best of all, he himself would be a happier and more productive man for it, and it is for him that our primary concern at this point must surely be (Churchman, 104).

Hmmm. Does Bray really mean to look down his nose on the pastor-theologian model? Bray spends the whole review complimenting Pastor Piper’s handling of the subject, and then, in an attempt to insult the scholarly capabilities of Wright, delivers an (unintended?) shot to Piper by insulting the pastor-theologian model en toto. What the right hand gives, the left hand takes away.

Bray prefaces his critique of the pastor-theologian model by stating that it is not a viable option in “today’s world.” Presumably, then, he appreciates the viability of the model for days gone by. And indeed, how could he not? Church history is filled with evidence to the positive: Athanasius, Augustine, Calvin, Luther, Edwards, Wesley, Barth, et al. The list is nearly endless. But Bray raises a question worth considering: is such a model attainable in our contemporary context? Two thoughts here:

First, we haven’t really tried to find out. There is a dearth of intellectuals in the pastorate, and therefore it is difficult to assess accurately the viability of the model. Can a pastor realistically produce a book like’s McGrath’s Iustitia Dei, or Wright’s Jesus and the Victory of God (written before he became Bishop of Durham)? Maybe, maybe not. But it should be pointed out that not every academic scholar can produce this sort of magisterial work either. It’s a bit unfair to compare the two groups of theologians, simply in light of the sheer difference in numbers. If we had as many pastor-theologians attempting to do “serious scholarship” (as Bray calls it) as we do academic-theologians, we would better be able to assess the viability of the pastor-theologian model. So maybe time will tell.

Second, Bray is absolutely correct that the pastor-theologian cannot serve the two masters of pastoral ministry and academic scholarship. This is a point I’ve made elsewhere. But the SAET (at least) is not looking to do academic scholarship. Ecclesial scholarship marks a third way, and—properly understood—is not a competing master to the pastoral calling. Indeed, the two masters are one. It may be true that the contemporary pastor-theologian will not have the luxury or time (or even interest) to chase down the secondary literature with the same vigor as the academic scholar. Undoubtedly the organizational structure of parish ministry needs to shift in such a way that the pastoral office is once again freed up to do serious theological reflection. But regardless, the pastor-theologian brings to the theological task an important strength the academic scholar lacks: an ecclesial context. The Scriptures are not merely an historical document, dead words on a page and fodder only for historians and scholars. The Scriptures are the life-blood of the Church—the local church not least. The sword hilt of Scripture has been uniquely fashioned for the pastor’s grip. The sensitive academic-theologian can wield it with profit, but it’s natural home is in the Church. The whole thrust of contemporary orthodox scholarship has largely forgotten this vital truth. We can not move theological reflection and writing out of the context of the local church without consequence.

There’s a lot that could be said here (and I may say some of it later), but I’ll say this much now: both Wright and Piper have produced fine examples of ecclesial theology. I don’t agree fully with either theologian’s treatment of Paul, but it’s clear that both men are writing as Christians and as pastors. The subject matter is not mere academics for either of them. Further, these books are not pitched toward a lay audience, but to fellow theologians and thinkers who share their concern for the health of the church and the advancement of the gospel.

Piper and Wright may not have a common vision on justification, but they do share a common vision for theological reflection.