Rob Bell's Story

The eminent critic and philosopher George Steiner reminds us in Real Presences that a certain courtesy is necessary when treating a work of art, and a piece of literature in particular. Steiner insists on the word courtesy because, he maintains, we are dealing with a being, an author, a real presence behind the curtain of syntax: The arts are most wonderfully rooted in substance, in the human body, in stone, in pigment, in the twanging of gut or the weight of wind on reeds. All good art and literature begin in immanence. But they do not stop there. Which is to say, very plainly, that it is the enterprise and privilege of the aesthetic to quicken into lit presence the continuum between temporality and eternity, between matter and spirit, between man and the other (227). In a very real sense, the work of art exhibits living qualities that must be treated as such, qualities that demand a level of care and respect similar to what we would extend to a fellow human being. Steiner would protect the story from the readers intrusion. There are a growing number of us who have become acutely aware that Jesuss story has been hijacked by a number of other stories, writes Rob Bell in his new book, Love Wins (page 1). Perhaps his most important sentence occurs on this first page. Throughout the book, Bell repeatedly returns to the metaphor of stories. Scripture, in Bells estimation, is an elaborate anthology of stories that unfold with all the verve, complexity, and ambiguity of our daily lives. Hence Bells dogmatically un-dogmatic approach to his source material. In his scheme, the story, the journey, the narrative takes priority over critical considerations. From this standpoint, the second most important section of the book reads as follows: its important that we be honest about the fact that some stories are better than others. Telling a story in which billions of people spend forever somewhere in the universe trapped in a black hole of endless torment and misery with no way out isnt a very good story (110). Conversely, everybody enjoying Gods good world together with no disgrace or shame, justice being served, and all the wrongs being made right is a better story (111). Love Wins met with controversy before it even hit shelves thanks in no small part to a brilliantly provocative promotional video featuring Bell doing what he does best: asking open-ended questions. This time, however, said questions bore directly on the eternal fate of humanity. The books subtitle is A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived. The initial response to the book was every bit as dramatic. Like Bell, the video is content with ambiguity, but in it, he tantalizes the viewer with the possibility that we as Christians may need to rethink our conceptions of hell, that hell, in fact, may not be the eternal destination of anyone. And so the blogosphere continues to swell along with the books sales. Much of Rob Bells literary output is characterized by a streamlined sensibility that is not so much pastoral, theological, or poetic, as corporate in consistency. His style is simultaneously provocative and disarming; sentences meander over the page in haphazard configurations, often terminating prematurely. Though the effect is clearly intended to be poetic, what often emerges is a faintly aphoristic admixture of abundant questions, vague conjectures, and sentence fragments: Its as if were currently trying to play the piano while wearing oven mitts (61). Right now, were trying to embrace our lover, but were wearing a hazmat suit (ibid). Its tempting to speculate that the surfeit of questions is an attempt to inoculate the reader against any proposed solution. On conversion, he writes: So is it what you say, or who you are, or what you do, or what you say youre going to do, or who your friends are, or

who youre married to, or whether you give birth to children (15)? The gravity of the books central issues elevates the material in Love Wins. An apt question arises: is Bells treatment of the stories under investigation legitimate? My concern is that Bell is frequently careless with the stories he chooses, ignoring the authorial presence immanent within them. Indeed, he is frequently guilty of putting them to a rather programmatic use, intended, it seems, to placate readers who find certain severities or harsh proclamations unpalatable. For instance, I think he makes a grave error in representing the Levitical sacrificial system as little more than a historic curio : Just the thought of such practices and rituals is repulsive. So primitive and barbaric. Not to mention unnecessary. It doesnt even cross our minds to sacrifice animals (123). Such outbursts indicate a resolute disregard of authorial intent in favor of contemporary sensibilities; Bell appears to ignore the theological implications of this system that reach their culmination in Christs sacrifice (Heb 10: 9-12). At any rate, stories demand adequate readers; any scholar attempting to indict Homer on the basis of the mistreatment of a Cyclops would be met with incredulity. I came across a telling comment from a Rob Bell advocate while perusing a blog that was critical of Love Wins: I understand what you are saying here, and its pretty close to what I have believed for a good portion of my life. But I find Bells vision of God and the future more compelling. He may not be right, but I hope he is. This response happens to be emblematic of Bells approach. I hesitate to use a word as definitive as viewpoint or conclusion because Love Wins draws conclusions by default only. The same reticence characterizing the comment above characterizes the book. What were left with is not so much a conclusion or any kind of final elaboration but a certain tone, or better yet, a certain manner. The story metaphor, it turns out, is remarkably flexible if it becomes the end rather than the means. A metaphors life, however, is limited. At a certain point, truth must supplant the analogy, and I cant find a clear transition in Love Wins. I am mindful of Steiners admonition; courtesy assumes reception, assumes presence. The author behind the biblical text assumes an unprecedented authority. The real presence behind Scripture demands more than courtesy and respect. He demands reverence, humility and even surrender: For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart (Heb 4:12). There is no stronger argument for the primacy of the text nor is there a clearer breach of the partition between reader and author than here. Rob Bell continually refuses to grant the text the courtesy of speaking for itself and frequently chooses to leave things open-ended that are fiercely final. I am put in mind of Johns somber warning in Revelation 22: I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this scroll: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this scroll. And if anyone takes words away from this scroll of prophecy, God will take away from that person any share in the tree of life and in the Holy City, which are described in this scroll (18-19). In spite of his narrative approach, in spite of all the conversing and exploration, Rob Bells most compelling argument is the same argument made by his reader in the paragraph above: my version of the story makes me feel better and is therefore preferable. What we need is a story that is true.

For a thorough treatment of the Levitical sacrificial system and its historical and theological implications, please see Paul Copans Is God a Moral Monster? Making Sense of the Old Testament God (Michigan: Baker Books, 2011).