Theological Medicine for Liberal Democracy.
As so often is the case, it turned out to be easier to agree in theory with the need for interdisciplinary scholarship than to actually practice it. In particular, I found it difficult to come to grips with the second volume of Smith's trilogy, Imagining the Kingdom: How Worship Works. Therefore, if in what follows I focus on the first and, especially, the third volume of Smith's Cultural Liturgies, this is not because I think the second volume does not have a lot to offer. It has more to do with my own scholarly limitations, and it says something about the sheer breadth of Smith's scholarship that he can write three volumes on such relatively different topics: Christian education, Christian worship, and Christian politics. The first volume provides a philosophical theology of culture, the second a liturgical theology of culture, and the third a political theology of culture. Combined, the Cultural Liturgies thus provide a comprehensive theology of culture, or at least this was the intent of Smith, a professor of philosophy at Calvin College where he holds the Gary & Henrietta Byker Chair in Applied Reformed Theology and Worldview.
In large part due to the compartmentalization of academia, the first time I came across Smith's work was during the writing of my latest book. (2) In the summer of 2016, less than six months before the manuscript was due, Smith gave the annual Bavinck Lecture at the Theological University of the Reformed Churches in Kampen, the Netherlands. On this occasion he presented what later became chapter 4 of Awaiting the King, the third volume of his trilogy. The event was reported in the Dutch media, and the lecture was made available on the website of the university. Its intriguing title was "Reforming Public Theology: Neocalvinism and Pluralism."
After reading Smith's argument, I decided to integrate it into my discussion on the similarities between a principled public pluralism as traditionally advocated by authors in the Neo-Calvinist tradition, such as statesman and theologian Abraham Kuyper (1837-1920) and the legal philosopher Herman Dooyeweerd (1894-1977), and the type of liberal pluralism that is associated with William A. Galston, among others. (3) Is it true, I asked, that the two types of pluralism are virtually the same in their outcomes or is it appropriate to continue to distinguish between the two? To put it slightly differently: Is it the case that principled public pluralism leads to precisely the kind of so-called neutral state that liberal pluralism envisages? (4) It would take up quite a lot of space to set out here what principled public pluralism means exactly. Therefore, I will limit myself to the observation that it leads to a form of democracy "in which subculturally-rooted differences are affirmatively accommodated by the state." (5)
Smith's answer to the questions posed above is in the affirmative. In the third volume of his trilogy, he contends that principled public pluralism results in "a kind of macroliberalism, a feigned neutrality at a group level that ends up with a kind of 'live and let live' stance that is itself a 'directional'vision." (6) In other words, although principally against imposing any ultimate perspective on the existing political order in the here and now, Neo-Calvinists for all practical purposes turn into liberals until the eschatological waiting is over. Three years after reading these remarks for the first time, they still strike me as being a relatively strong criticism of the Neo-Calvinist political theology that I have tried to apply in my work on various occasions.
The criticism that principled public pluralism can all too easily end up in the form of liberalism, or at best liberal pluralism, would have been worth pondering if it came from an outsider of the Neo-Calvinist tradition. What makes Smith's criticism even more pressing for Neo-Calvinists is that he is an insider. The philosophy of principled public pluralism is not the only element of the Neo-Calvinist tradition that Smith criticizes in his trilogy. In the first volume, he claims that the so-called worldview approach adopted in Christian education, though valuable in itself, is too rational. A Christian worldview can be described as "a system of Christian beliefs, ideas, and doctrines." (7) According to Smith's philosophical anthropology, humans are not in the first place rational beings who are longing for information, but beings with loves who rather require formation. As a consequence, a Christian college should see such formation as its priority, and work closely together with the church to achieve it.
Still, Smith also stresses time and again that despite offering these and other criticisms he wishes to remain loyal to the Neo-Calvinist tradition: "While my proposals for reforming Reformed public theology will involve critique, those criticisms are offered in the spirit of reform, with the goal of faithfully extending and revising this tradition. They in no way constitute a dismissal." (8)
This mixture of criticism and loyalty raises the question of what Smith's intellectual trajectory looked like exactly, both before and during the writing of his trilogy. Part of what makes the trilogy such a fascinating read is that in it Smith is quite open about this. (9) As Smith explains, after his conversion he started as a traditional evangelical who was fully occupied with other-worldly concerns. When, later in life, he came to know the Neo-Calvinist tradition, he was upset at first because with the advantage of hindsight Smith believed evangelicalism had made him miss out on quite a few things that he now came to regard as almost central to his faith. Perhaps these new interests could be summed up with the term "justice." As this is a goal to be pursued in this world rather than having to wait for the next, Neo-Calvinists use the term "public justice" for it. In Kuyperian terms, for Smith the emphasis shifted from the church as an institute to the church as an organism, as Christians in the world. Looking back on how he had originally been formed theologically, Smith himself now uses the term "fundamentalist" for it. (10)
Smith was slightly carried away, however, by his enthusiasm for the new perspective and even became what he calls "a Kuyperian secularist." (11) His this-worldly activism was essentially similar to progressive political and social action. More relevant to the topic of his trilogy, Smith's appreciation for the church as an organism led him to underestimate the role of the church as an institute. Smith then draws an interesting parallel with Charles Taylor's A Secular Age. (12) In this book Taylor points to the unintended consequences of the Reformation. Smith even talks about "the Frankensteinish effects of the Protestant Reformation." (13) One of the key characteristics of the Reformation was, of course, that it sanctified everyday life. Not just clergy but also laity were henceforth able to enjoy a direct, personal relationship with God. The way these "ordinary" people were supposed to worship God, moreover, was not just on Sundays in church, but seven days a week in both their personal and professional lives. However, as a result the focus shifted profoundly from heaven to earth to the point of the vertical dimension being lost sight of in the horizontal activism. As we have seen, something similar happened in Smith's life after he discovered the Neo-Calvinist tradition.
What Taylor argues about the unintended consequences of the Reformation has been a classic criticism of Protestantism among Catholics. A question is, thus, why Smith believes that he can overcome these consequences while remaining loyal to the Neo-Calvinist tradition? One explanation is that Smith considers his initial enthusiasm for this-worldly matters the result of an incomplete, and therefore incorrect, reading of Kuyper's work in particular. I will not elaborate on the above question here, except to say that this seems a plausible explanation. Although Kuyper in constitutional law and political science circles is perhaps best known for his social and political activities, throughout his life he also devoted a considerable amount of time both to questions about how the Reformed church itself ought to be reformed in order to remain faithful to its mission and to the implementation of such reforms. Also, a significant part of his written work explicitly deals with theological matters. (14)
We have still not reached the end of the story, though, as far as Smith's intellectual journey is concerned. By the time he got to volume 3 of his trilogy, Smith had returned "to an emphasis on our common life, but with what Paul Ricoeur would call a 'second naTvete."' (15) As a result, the writing of this last volume took longer than he anticipated. The book also differs from what Smith had expected it to become when the first volume of the trilogy came out in 2009. Ten years ago Smith had still intended to emphasize the antithetical side of the Neo-Calvinist tradition. He had learned from writers like Stanley Hauerwas to be wary of a desire to transform the culture that led to not much more than cultural assimilation. Then Smith had a conversation in which he was asked a question that prompted him to immerse himself for five full years in Saint Augustine's The City of God, as well as in the work of Anglican theologian Oliver O'Donovan. Smith calls the former book nothing less than "the animating source of my project." (16) In combination with O'Donovan's work, it led Smith back to the ideas behind the first volume of his trilogy. As said, the third volume would turn out different from the original idea, however. It now became "diaconal" in character (17) in that it is one big pointer toward the works of Augustine and O'Donovan. No matter how sophisticated, Smith's interpretation and application of these works alone do not replace a careful engagement with the works themselves, and Smith's work should lead readers to consider, from among O'Donovan's works, The Desire of the Nations and The Ways of Judgment. (18)
Smith is confident that his intellectual trajectory has resulted in "a 'reformed' Reformed public theology that is more catholic." (19) He hopes to make "a catholic proposal." (20) The word "catholic" is, without doubt, written with a small c here to indicate that it does not refer to the Catholic Church as such, but rather to ideas that intend to be universally accessible and acceptable to Christians of all stripes, including Catholics.
Before asking ourselves whether, and to what extent, this is indeed the case, it must be said first that Smith's intellectual trajectory is a little unsettling. On the one hand, it is fascinating to read an author whose beliefs have not stood still over the past ten years, just as in the period before he began working on his trilogy. A person who does not change opinion occasionally probably does not consider matters carefully enough. On the other hand, it is not altogether reassuring that someone can change positions several times and go almost from one theological end of the scale to the other and back. It raises concerns not so much with the person who undergoes these changes, and certainly not with Smith, whose trajectory is probably representative of many other evangelical Protestants. (21) Instead, concerns are related to the ideas that give rise to such shifts in opinion. There is something deeply inspiring about the Neo-Calvinist political theology that makes someone as erudite as Smith stick with it despite the different stances that he has taken toward evangelicalism over time. However, there is also something disquieting about those ideas in the sense that they are open to fundamentally different interpretations and that something can be said for all these interpretations. To a greater extent than Catholic social teaching, it all appears to depend on where one finds oneself in life, and which circumstances and experiences happen to determine one's most recent position.
Another preliminary concern is that the alternative Reformed public theology offered by Smith is not always as clear as one would have wanted it to be. To be sure, Smith himself indicates several times that he limits himself to describing a kind of general attitude that Christians ought to adopt regarding public life. He intends to fill in the policy and other details in some future work. This postponement is in itself understandable and entirely excusable. It is also in the spirit of Augustine's work. The problem, however, is that what he does elaborate on in his vision of a new "Christendom" in the third volume ultimately remains somewhat vague. Thus, Smith describes Christendom as "a missional endeavor that refuses to let political society remain protected from the lordship of Christ while also recognizing the eschatological distance between the now and the not-yet. From the center of the church as a political society, Christendom bears witness to how society should be otherwise in a way that imagines the possibility of conversion--not only of souls but of our social imaginaries." (22) Law professor C. Scott Pryor is among those who have asked themselves what this passage means exactly. (23)
Having noted Smith's somewhat unsettling intellectual trajectory and the relatively general character of his vision of a new Christendom, I come to some reservations regarding the Catholicism of his alternative Reformed public theology. A first remark is that Smith's renewed emphasis on ecclesiology is something that truly sets him apart from many other Protestant public theologies. As was noted above, the lack of an adequate ecclesiology and the resulting shift in focus among believers from heaven to earth is a classic criticism that Roman Catholics, and Orthodox believers for that matter, have voiced regarding Protestantism. The emphasis on ecclesiology is therefore indeed potentially a catholicizing element of Smith's alternative Reformed public theology. This emphasis simultaneously raises the question, however, whether it will prove possible to realize in practice the goal of a more elaborate Protestant ecclesiology.
As we have seen above, someone like Kuyper believed that such an ecclesiology was important and devoted a good deal of attention to designing one. Still, looking for example at the way his Reformed churches in the Netherlands developed in the course of the century after they split from the Dutch Reformed Church in the late nineteenth century, the results are mixed at best. Similarly, Smith refers in volume 1 of his trilogy to the church he attends, Neland Avenue Christian Reformed Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan, as an excellent example of the kind of church he envisages. There are, however, probably many other churches in Grand Rapids and elsewhere that meet his criteria to a lesser extent or not at all. Does Smith really expect that his renewed emphasis on ecclesiology will prove palatable to the wide variety of Protestant churches and denominations and that these churches will embrace reform according to the well-worked out liturgical image he portrays in volume 2 of his trilogy?
The second remark that needs to be made concerns Smith's dismissal of the notion of natural law. Although he also indicates that he sees some value of the notion of natural law, he mostly comments negatively on it, without ever engaging it properly. (24) According to Smith, "Worship is not a rehearsal of a 'natural law' that can be known by reason or conscience; it is the restor(y)ing of a renewed humanity who are liturgically schooled. The index and criterion for justice and the right ordering of society is not some generic, universal, or 'natural' canon but rather the revealed, biblical story unfolded in God's covenant relationship with Israel and the church." (25) Smith is, without doubt, right. However, I doubt whether even the strongest proponents of the notion of natural law would see it as "the heart of worship."
The second sentence of the quotation above is, therefore, more relevant for our purposes. Can, or does, natural law constitute the measure of a just society and ordered liberty? Smith is again right when he suggests that Christians have privileged access to an even more abundant source of morality. However, Smith is also interested in "our common life." Does he think that people of other faiths or no faith will be attracted by the idea of the gospel itself as the foundation of not just private but also public morality? The question regarding the status of natural law has some urgency because of the far-reaching changes we are currently witnessing in ethics and the law. Thus far Christians, by merely referring to the Bible, have not been very successful in persuading others that they may not in all cases, such as abortion, same-sex marriage, and transgender rights, be on the right track. Indeed, Christians have been strongly divided among themselves in many of these matters. Is not an appeal to some shared sense of natural law the main hope left for them to prevent a further escalation of the culture wars? Smith does not believe this to be the case, (26) but what is his alternative?
According to Smith, "political theology must be Christian and not merely theistic or governed by the lower bar of 'natural law.' The political is not a merely temporal, earthly reality that can be understood as a feature of 'nature' apart from the reign of the risen Christ." (27) Again, he may well be right on this, but the question remains how many outsiders will be drawn to such an explicitly evangelical political theology? How many of my colleagues in constitutional law or political science, nationally and internationally, will even make the effort to read Smith's trilogy? It seems that by discarding natural law Smith may not even be able to reach his fellow Christians in the Catholic Church, where natural law is a central feature of the church's moral teaching. In recent years, quite a few studies have been published that aim at a reappraisal of the notion of natural law from a Protestant perspective. (28) To be sure, Smith engages several of these works, (29) but in a slightly different context, without for example addressing the question of whether it can serve as a common framework for Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. (30) In doing so, his trilogy resembles the nineteenth-century position of Protestantism toward natural law. (31) The question is whether this position does not need a reappraisal after the cultural revolution of the 1960s, the results of which are now gradually becoming more visible across the West.
As a result of these two reservations, it remains to be seen how influential Smith's trilogy will prove to be in the current debate on the future of liberal democracy. (32) It is manifest that Smith proposes a middle path between a form of genuine political engagement and withdrawal from political life altogether. Yet considering that readers who subscribe to the Benedict Option are largely Orthodox believers and Roman Catholics, (33) the question, in light of the two points raised above, is whether Smith's argument will convince them. The real target groups may thus be, on one side, those Protestants who, following Hauerwas and others, have distanced themselves from political life or, on the other side, those Protestants who are engaging perhaps too unconditionally in the liberal political order of the day.
The trilogy can fulfill a useful function for both groups, and the interest that his books and lectures have raised demonstrate the potential of an alternative Reformed public theology such as Smith's. Smith recommends "learning how to actively wait in the meantime of the saeculum." (34) Although he is certainly not a blind believer in liberal democracy as it has developed, his attitude toward liberal democracy is also not "fundamentally... antithetical." (35) This is a distinctive and rather courageous position to take for a political or public theologian. One only has to spend a small amount of time at a meeting of, for example, the American Academy of Religion, to realize that many political theologians and religious studies scholars take the opposite view. The value of Smith's study lies precisely in the fact that he shows that this is not the default position for theologians to adopt toward liberal democracy. As a matter of fact, by adopting such an antithetical attitude other political theologians run the risk of corroborating the problems of liberal democracy, because paradoxically "pluralism is looking less and less like a liberal ideal." (36) This latter point brings me to my final, and not the least important, observation.
I started this review by referring to Hendrianto's methodological article on the need for integrating theological insights into law and religion scholarship. The contribution that in particular the third volume of Smith's trilogy makes in this regard is that it reminds us of the tremendous influence that Christian theology has exercised on liberal democracy. Smith does this most clearly in the third chapter, "The Craters of the Gospel: Liberalism's Borrowed Capital." This title refers to a metaphor O'Donovan uses in his work The Desire of the Nations. Employing the same metaphor, Smith asks himself the question: "Where are the craters of the gospel's impact on Western liberal democracies?" (37)
Following O'Donovan's lead, the answer to this question given by Smith is that it is obviously not the case that Protestantism, all by itself, has given birth to liberal democracy. Nor does liberal democracy stem from the Enlightenment tradition alone. Rather, in O'Donovan's words,
What has become clear... from half a century of research in political history, is that the roots of this new organisation of political priorities run deep into the centuries that preceded it, not only through the late scholastics who are recognisably forebears of the Reformation, but through the earlier scholastics back into the Carolingian and patristic eras; and not only through theologians and their disputations but through the various concrete forms of life in the Christian community: corporations, monastic communities, canon law, penance and so on. (38)
To be sure, the late modern liberalism that we currently experience bears this mark less visibly. Political theology, therefore, has a public role to play in explaining to contemporary Western society the religious and theological roots that remain in place. Despite everything, "the history of Western liberal democracy is one filled with craters from the impact of the gospel." (39)
At this point, Smith returns to his criticism of the notion of natural law. As he sees it, what O'Donovan refers to with the craters of the gospel "is not a vaguely 'natural' set of principles that govern political life in liberal democracy but rather the specific, determinate effects of what O'Donovan would call 'evangelical' politics--a politics shaped by the christological distinctiveness of the gospel and the incarnational specificity of the body of Christ." (40) In other words, there is less "common grace" to be found than sometimes thought. Rather, what we witness are the remains of "special grace," and therefore what is needed is an "evangelical" political theology that is acutely aware of this. (41) The question for me, once again, is whether one excludes the other. Is it not possible to both acknowledge that the religious and theological heritage that we can still discern is the fruit of special grace, and simultaneously to search for ways to maintain this heritage with the help of the notions of common grace and natural law?
For now 1 will leave this point, however. What I believe is a particularly significant insight that Smith has on offer is that, in order to continue to flourish, liberal democracy needs special grace communities, which sometimes also means illiberal communities. To the extent that he criticizes his Neo-Calvinist tradition for insufficiently stressing the need to develop such democratic virtues, Smith is probably right. It is perhaps also the most catholicizing element of his Cultural Liturgies. Virtues are a concept that Roman Catholics, in particular, will be able to relate to as well. All people of goodwill, however, will probably by now have begun to realize that the future of liberal democracy may well depend on a lasting democratic ethos among Western populations. The essential addition that Smith makes is that the liberal order ought to safeguard the constitutional space for religious and other, sometimes illiberal, communities to help create this democratic ethos.
At the end of the day, this ethos is not a matter of the mind alone. There is, thus, a clear link with the first volume of Smith's trilogy, in which he urges Christian educators not to focus on a rational worldview approach alone. Younger generations will have to learn to love the democratic system and its practices and rituals without being deformed by it. This goal cannot be achieved at an abstract level, however. The conditional love of democracy, more specifically liberal democracy, will have to be achieved indirectly. Families are the primary communities that come to mind. Churches, mosques, synagogues, and other meeting houses have a vital, secondary role to play. For this purpose, worship will need to take a particular form.
To the extent that Smith makes the case in his trilogy that the historic form of Christian worship has facilitated liberal democracy as we know it, he as a public theologian has a major contribution to make to the field of law and religion more generally. Smith's criticism that principled public pluralism turns into a form of macroliberalism becomes more understandable in this light. If liberal democracy needs special grace to continue to flourish, that special grace had better not be replaced by too great an emphasis on common grace. And churches should be wary of compromising with their cultural environments when it comes to their traditional worship practices. Finally, Christian education should remain closely connected to churches that worship in this historic way. This is the most promising way for Christianity to continue to contribute to our common life, paradoxically by becoming more evangelical rather than less.
Is this the core message of what Smith wanted to say in his Cultural Liturgies, adapted slightly to the ears of constitutional lawyers and political science? Is this how the three volumes of his trilogy are indeed tightly connected and his ambition of formulating a comprehensive theology of culture thus achieved? In that case, there is every reason to be grateful to Smith for writing this trilogy. Could it be that the medicine for liberal democracy is not likely to come from practitioners of constitutional law and political science, but from political theologians instead?
As Smith points out, the genealogy of liberal democracy demonstrates that liberalism is nothing less than the prodigal son of Christianity. Thus, it becomes plausible that Christianity has a continuing role to play in a liberal democracy. Smith might even be right that it is not so much common grace and natural law, but rather Christianity exclusively, on which liberal democracy is dependent. Constitutional lawyers and political scientists would indeed be well-advised to be more generous in integrating theological insights as well into their work in order to find this out for themselves.
(1.) Stefanus Hendrianto, "Comparative Law and Religion: Three-Dimensional (3D) Approach," Law and Method, October 2017, https://doi.Org/10.5553/REM/.000028.
(2.) Hans-Martien ten Napel, Constitutionalism, Democracy and Religious Freedom: To Be Fully Human (London and New York: Routledge, 2017).
(3.) William A. Galston, Liberal Pluralism: The Implications of Value Pluralism for Political Theory and Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2002).
(4.) Ten Napel, Constitutionalism, Democracy and Religious Freedom, 103.
(5.) Stanley Warren Carlson-Thies, "Democracy in the Netherlands: Consociational or Pluriform?" (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 1993), 96.
(6.) Smith, Awaiting the King. 33.
(7.) Smith, Desiring the Kingdom, 17.
(8.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 8n 16.
(9.) See, in particular. Smith, Awaiting the King, 85-86.
(10.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 83.
(11.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 86.
(12.) Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2007.
(13.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 83.
(14.) Cf. Abraham Kuyper Collected Works in Public Theology. 12 vols. (Bellingham. WA: Lexham Press, 2015-).
(15.) Smith, Awaiting the King, xii.
(16.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 18.
(17.) Smith, Awaiting the King, xi.
(18.) Oliver O'Donovan, The Desire of the Nations: Rediscovering the Roots of Political Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); The Ways of Judgment (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005).
(19.) Smith, Awaiting the King, xii.
(20.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 8.
(21.) In fact, I have myself moved from a positive appraisal of the Neo-Calvinist tradition to a more critical one in "The Concept of Multicultural Democracy; a Preliminary Christian-Philosophical Appraisal," Philosophia Reformata 71, no. 2 (2006): 145-53; and "Joseph H. H. Weiler's Approach to the Democratic Legitimacy of the European Union: Is There a Message for Neo-Calvinists?," Journal of Markets & Morality 17, no. 1 (Spring 2014): 125-41.
(22.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 162.
(23.) C. Scott Pryor, "Blogging Jamie Smith: An Occasional Series on 'Awaiting the King' 5.0," Pryor Thoughts (blog), January 4, 2018, http://pryorthoughts.blogspot.com/2018/01/blogging-jamie-smith-occasional-series.html.
(24.) See, however. Smith, Awaiting the King, 141n35, where he refers back to an earlier discussion in James K.A. Smith. Introducing Radical Orthodoxy: Mapping a Post-Secular Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 50-54.
(25.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 60.
(26.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 155n7.
(27.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 65; see also 158.
(28.) See, e.g., Jesse Covington, Bryan T. McGraw, and Micah Watson, eds., Natural Law and Evangelical Political Thought (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013).
(29.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 45-47.
(30.) Anver M. Emon. Matthew Levering, and David Novak, Natural Law: A Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Trialogue (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).
(31.) C. Scott Pryor, "Blogging Jamie Smith: An Occasional Series on 'Awaiting the King' 7.0," Pryor Thoughts (blog), January 16, 2018, http://pryorthoughts.blogspot.com/2018/0l/blogging-jamie-smith-occasional-series_l6.html.
(32.) On this debate, see D. G. Hart, "From Peak Oil to Peak Liberalism," Journal of Markets & Morality 21, no. 2 (Fall 2018): 351-61.
(33.) Rod Dreher, The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation (New York: Sentinel, 2017).
(34.) Smith, Awaiting the King, xii.
(35.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 17.
(36.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 147.
(37.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 98.
(38.) O'Donovan. Desire of the Nations, 226, as quoted in Smith, Awaiting the King, 93.
(39.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 120.
(40.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 123.
(41.) Smith, Awaiting the King, 124.
Hcms-Martien ten Napel
(*) James K. A. Smith. Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation, Cultural Liturgies, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009); Imagining the Kingdom: How Worship Works, Cultural Liturgies, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013); Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology, Cultural Liturgies, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017).
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|Title Annotation:||Cultural Liturgies, 3 vols.|
|Author:||ten Napel, Hans-Martien|
|Publication:||Journal of Markets & Morality|
|Article Type:||Book review|
|Date:||Mar 22, 2019|
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