Can the Word alone do its Job?

I've been reading Richard Hooker (1554-1600) as a part of my studies, and I've come across an interesting idea that he discusses in Book V of his Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. Defending the Church of England practice of the Public Reading of the Scriptures, Hooker makes the case that preaching is not absolutely necessary to evangelism. The Puritans decided that the goal of salvation could only be reached through the preaching of the Word, therefore, the public reading of the Scriptures as part of Worship was not needed, or should not be practiced, unless preaching followed. In other words, the only passages to be read aloud in a worship service were the ones that would presently be preached, exposed, and added to with commentary. Otherwise, according to the Puritan way, no public reading of the Scriptures would be allowed.

I found this story quite interesting and contemporary to us today. Many churches today have neglected the public reading of the Scriptures as a part of the worship service, except for the passages that will be preached on the day. Many argue that it is a time issue, that it takes too much time just to read the Bible aloud. Also, some would not see the point of reading a passage if it was not preached in the same service.

A few questions:

Is preaching necessary for salvation (evangelism)?
Must preaching follow the reading of the Word?
Can hearing the Scriptures alone be effectual for salvation (evangelism)?
What are the public Scripture reading practices in your local Nazarene congregations?

And please do not get me wrong. I am in no way claiming that preaching is unnecessary or useless.

The Peace of Christ be always with You,
Joseph

The ecclesiology of blogging...

I've had some interesting back-and-forth recently, and with a few people even going back three years now to the inception of this blog and it's companion, about not simply the value but even the sheer possibility of having healthy conversation, especially about things of a theological nature, in venues such as blogs, social-networking sites, discussion boards and the like. While I fully acknowledge that such "online conversation spaces" (as I like to call them) can turn nasty and inhospitable, and at such a time are usually best disestablished and laid to rest, I've also seen them become a very encouraging and redemptive resource for pastors, lay persons and students of all sorts for the exchange of insights and experiences, for those who seek understanding and sometimes just for the purpose of floating an idea and allowing it to be scrutinized.

On the other hand, I've read my postmodern critical theory, and I know that words, once spoken or written, are orphaned and no longer under my control (as if they ever were or are), and can very easily be misconstrued, twisted, de-contextualized and abused as weapons against me or against anyone else for that matter. Then again, this risk is inherent to all language and therefore any and every form of communication. Which is to say, one might be able to minimize the risk (by limiting oneself to certain forms of communication, and avoiding others, like blogs), but it is ultimately inescapable....whether I publish something in a peer-reviewed journal, or speak it from a pulpit or a lectern in the classroom, or say it to somebody face-to-face, my words take on a life of their own from the moment they are uttered; they control me, not I them. I can seek to explain, clarify, retract - all of which merely increase the risk of further linguistic mis-fire.

So here's what I wonder, in light of all this: most of us would probably agree that the best place to "do theology" or to have theological discussions is within the church, the ecclesia or "assembly" - not off on my own somewhere; not in the ivory towers of academia; but within a "body" of some sort. Are we who populate this online conversation space a "body"? We are clearly dis-embodied insofar as we are digitally-mediated, separated by geography, time-zones, etc; but might we still understand there to be a sense and a spirit of "community," of ecclesia, about our interaction and conversation? Perhaps not, I don't know. What is at stake, I suppose, is whether or not a venue such as this is a viable space to engage in theological discourse. If not, we best abandon it. If so, is it worth fighting for, and to what lengths?

"You all know that I'm a proud Nazbo..."

Oh. My.

God bless PLNU.