Liturgy and Postmoderns

By Amy F. Davis

“Where’s the reverence?” he asked, and I couldn’t answer. We were on a Hobie

Cat in the Gulf of Mexico, and we were discussing the worship experience at the church

he attended and for which I was interning. The service he frequented was located in the

fellowship hall, not in the traditional sanctuary that was still on site. Termed the

“Contemporary” service, he generally walked in, was greeted boisterously with hugs

by the ushers, and sat down in a folding chair. The greenish-bluish carpet matched the

cushions on the chair, and the stage was hardly raised above the audience. Wooden

paneling covered part of the wall, on either side of the stage were screens on which the

powerpoint slides were displayed (white lettering on blue background always), and

behind the stage by the misplaced window were small, somewhat dingy banners saying

something about the Holy Spirit. The service generally had announcements, the

greeting of one another, four predictable contemporary songs, a sermon, and a closing

song. The leaders watched the clock on the far wall to make sure the service concluded

on time. My friend, out on bail and awaiting trial for drug trafficking, was looking for a

bit of reverence for God in worship, because he had experienced it as a child. Having

studied contemporary worship models in seminary, I thought the desire of the masses

was for that which he was currently experiencing. Here was a twenty-something man,

longing for reverence, and wondering where it was. I still couldn’t answer.

Had he entered the Russian Orthodox Church with me, he would have asked,

“Where’s the community?” There, it was dark. The sanctuary, although infused with
the smell of incense, was lit only by low red or blue candles in front of major icons. The

candles waved in greeting as the door opened to the cold wind from outside, and they

faintly reflected the golden paint that decorated the sanctuary all around. It was silent.

The candle-seller at the door spoke in a barely audible whisper, and all followed his

example, standing in silence, facing the front. There was no laughing, no greeting of

one another, no noticing of those around; the purpose was to worship God, to look to

the heavens, to be caught up into the predictable liturgy, to be isolated, not to express

love to one’s neighbor. There was movement. In the middle of the front wall, a door

opened, and it was light in the holy area there. The practically monotone a cappella

chanting commenced, echoed by an unseen choir to the right. The priests’ glittering

clothes were visible through the decorative gate, and the worship had begun. There

were no clocks. Time was measured by what was happening liturgically, not by clocks;

the focal moments were obvious, and worship continued. My Hobie Cat friend would

have found reverence here, but no community. Would that have been enough to fulfill

his idea of a worship experience?

Besides, should the church’s focus be to fulfill each congregant’s desire, or

should it be simply, as a community of believers, to ascribe worth to God? No doubt

that many will first hear an organized presentation of the Christian apologetic in the

context of a church service. How can that message be packaged to attract the

Postmodern and still provide a true experience of God? All aspects of the service must

point to the truth of the gospel; in this sense all is apologetic. Postmodernism, with its

emphasis on community, participation (experience), and story, dovetails with liturgy’s

emphasis on the community’s rhythm, participation through all senses, and the

church’s story of the sacraments, tradition, and the ancients. Robert Webber’s research

has shown that “the strongest and deepest desire of the twenty-something worshiper is

to have a genuine encounter with God.”1 It is in that encounter that the friendship

between Postmodernism and liturgy begins.

Postmodernism: a brief definition

Although this paper will focus mainly on the postmodern aspects of community,

participation, and story, these three are not all that defines postmodernism. As a

current movement in society, one may find aspects of postmodernism throughout all

disciplines.

Insofar as science is concerned, rather than emphasizing an understandable,

mechanistic (Newtonian) world, a dynamic, interrelated, complex and mysterious

world is that which the Postmodern sees. Such sight results in both humility regarding

human ability to know and greater environmental interest. 2 In communication, “we

have become a world of graphics and symbols.3 Regarding outlook, postmodern people

are skeptical of the future, and tend to revere events and ideas of the past (not the

recent past, but the ancient).4

In literature, deconstruction prevails because “meaning is not inherent in the

text, . . . but emerges only as the interpreter enters into dialogue with the text.” 5

Meaning becomes real through experience and through the grid of personal

interpretation. It is not necessarily an individualistic, modern interpretation, however,

for it is based in community.

 More importantly, an over-arching, permeating idea of postmodernism is its

preference for alternative paths to knowledge and truth. Both emotions and intuition

are equally as valid as reason to be methods to determine knowledge. 6 Rejecting the

modernistic idea of absolute reason and knowledge, the subjectivity of the knower

prevails.

Postmodernism has learned from its predecessor, modernism, and yet races both

behind modernism to gain from the ancients, and also races ahead of itself, seeing no

particular objective end to its epistemology. It is fluid, for attitudes may be similar from

one person to the next, yet conclusions may not only be different, but also

contradictory. Living in a postmodern world is fascinating.

Liturgy: a brief definition

In order to define how postmodernism and liturgy dovetail, one must

understand the reason and depth of liturgy. It’s not mom and dad’s liturgy, yet ancient

liturgy that is in view. It’s not only an order of worship on Sunday morning, but a way

of life.

The word, liturgy is a combination of the Greek words, laos, meaning people, and

ergon, meaning work. Thus, liturgy proper is the work of the people, meaning the

laity’s every action.7 One may think that the “service” in a “worship service” is that of

the priest or pastor, when in reality it is that of all those involved. Therefore, liturgy is

essential in any worship service; a non-liturgical service is a contradiction in terms. In

“contemporary” services, “the program is simple and almost always follows a threefold

pattern: music that puts the crowd in the right mood, a sermon oriented toward an
intended accomplishment, and a response focused on the desired outcome. This

pattern does not follow the biblical fourfold pattern of gathering, hearing the Word,

celebrating at the Table, and going forth to love and serve the Lord.” 8 Every service is

thus liturgical, yet only some follow what Webber terms as the biblical fourfold pattern.

Liturgy is not only an order of worship including the process of approaching

God and then moving to one’s interaction with the world. It is also a way of life. Just as

the world around us experiences seasons, so does the liturgical life. Evangelicals,

however, are much better at celebrating the “Hallmark” calendar with Mother’s Day

and Memorial day, while neglecting Advent, Epiphany, Lent, and Pentecost (Christmas

and Easter are on both); throughout the year, we are always in one of these seasons. 9

The season of Easter lasts fifty days until Pentecost, which celebrates the developing

early church until it cycles back to Advent. The Liturgical year extends the Christian’s

worship from Sunday into Monday through Saturday; from a one-day celebration to a

season.

Furthermore, liturgy is theology expressed in word and deed. The best hymns

are the best theology, and many specific prayers in Sunday’s liturgy express the work of

God through Jesus Christ.10 Liturgy teaches powerfully, and the repetition inherent in it

reminds participants of the truths of the gospel even when far from its celebration. 11

That is, when suffering in the hospital, many turn to elements of familiar liturgy like

communal prayers or the Eucharist for comfort; when commemorating events like

weddings and death, liturgy is the mark of importance.

 Celebration of liturgy, however, reflects the current maxim, “If you’re gonna do

it, you’ve gotta do it right.” Dead repetition is not liturgy. “Complaints about the

obscurity of ‘traditional’ liturgy are really complaints about incompetent ritual.” 12 The

postmodern call to liturgy is not to hollow ritual but to a living, vibrant celebration that

connects congregants to one another, to an experience of God, and to the past, present

and future story of Christ and the church.

Postmoderns, Community, and Liturgy

Community has become a catch-word for many today, both inside and outside the

church. Businesses, schools, and villages concentrate on their particular community.

Belonging is in view here, as is value and identity. “The postmodern worldview

operates with a community-based understanding of truth.” 13 Jimmy Long, in Emerging

Hope, points to the popularity of the show, Friends, to illustrate current hunger for a

“family” within a community of people who care for each other.

“We should [as Christians] applaud and take advantage of the change we are
observing among people as they reject the autonomous self of the Enlightenment
era and embrace the tribalism of postmodern culture. At least they are moving
in the right direction. We should be embracing this change because tribalism is
much more closely aligned than the autonomous self to God’s intention of how
we should function in relationships. God created us to live in community. . .
What is biblical community?”14
Long’s final question cannot be answered here, but liturgy is to be one of the elements

of biblical community. Long believes, “The most urgent apologetic task before us is to

live our lives in community in such a way that those around us will come and ask,

‘Why are you different? What keeps you going? What is the hope in your heart?’” 15 He
does not deny that Christians are called to give a verbal reason for their hope, yet it is in

the act of community that the hope shall be found.

In further defining postmoderns’ desire for an encounter with God, Webber

found that it wasn’t an individualistic encounter that is sought, but rather one that

must take place within the context of genuine community. 16 In the village of Nyack,

NY, where I live, the coffee shop is a place for people to meet with one another and to

experience life together. All come there for more than just drinking coffee; they want to

see people who live in their area, and to chat about current issues in the community as

well as in the world. They read “The Nyack Villager” and Rivertown.” They take pride

in their environment, and talk about improving it. Genuine community involves

communication like this. Like Cheers, “You want to go where everybody knows your

name.” Community is having a place where one belongs and is both known and

accepted. It’s common experiences and common goals. It’s continuity and consistent

interaction. It’s everything thought of when referring to the best picture of what family

should be.

So, how does liturgy help in the idea of community? Admittedly, some liturgical

conventions that have been experienced in the recent past seem not only boring, but

also seem to discourage the idea of community. Some attend services at churches that

“get the job done” in less than a hour; they get in and out, sitting in the back, without

talking to anyone. It doesn’t have to be that way. At some churches coffee is available,

perhaps to give the “community” feeling of the coffee shop. That might help, but
community involves common experience and goals while one has a real and true

encounter with God.

The human life has rhythm. Vacations, projects, parades, promotions, school, all

reflect rhythm, and experiencing these together reflects the community in the

workplace and in the family. This rhythm involves physical experience.

“Because we are embodied, we are gendered, sexual beings; we speak and

express ourselves; we can view a painting and listen to a symphony; we can
relate to otehrs in a community. Downplaying embodiment (emphasizing the
soul over the body, the spiritual over the sensible) is to devalue these modes of
being-in-the-world. Conversely, revaluing the body is to see the way in which
these aspects of human beings are integral aspects of being embodied
creatures.”17
Liturgy is a physical rhythm. Biblical Jewish life is a rhythm of working six days and

resting on the seventh, to worship God, and to demonstrate the need for both work and

rest that God has instilled in humans. In Israel, everything shuts down early on Fridays

in order to prepare for Sabbath, and the fact that the community does it together makes

it easy, and not a chore, to celebrate. This is the rhythm of the community. Biblically,

life was ordered by the holidays, the feasts experienced together.

Liturgical life is rhythm. It’s the beat of anticipation between Easter and

Pentecost, knowing that for the first 40 days, Jesus walked the earth and appeared to

many. Then, he ascended, and the beat becomes both louder and faster as the coming

of the Holy Spirit is anticipated. If a group of people lived this, talked about it, and

celebrated it, that would give the common experience and goals that comprise genuine

community. It’s the rhythm of life, the rhythm of liturgy.

 Ancient liturgy is ecumenical. It’s before Roman Catholicism, Eastern

Orthodoxy, and Protestantism. It’s the classical tradition, the core of Christianity. In

the small town of Mattituck in Long Island, my mother remembers community dinners

during Lent, when the congregants of all the area’s Christian churches would have

dinner together at a different church every Wednesday night. Weekly dinners are

probably not how liturgy will interact with community today, yet the principle is right

and good. Community can occur in the remembrance of commonalities, and in the

community celebration.18

Postmoderns, Participation, and Liturgy

The idea of community requires participation and common experience. Rather

than simply observing God, postmoderns desire to participate in a true, deep

experience of God. This means not watching others talk about and sing about God in

an entertainment-style worship, but entering in to a genuine community experience.

Rather than emphasizing the immanent, “best friend” idea of God, they hunger for the

other-wordly, mysterious, transcendent God, which is easily reflected in ancient

liturgy.19 Liturgy that involves all the senses, physical movement, and requires a

response is postmodern worship. Long calls the Emerging Church to move “from word

to image,: and “from detached to participant.”20

Christians are called to Triune worship, which reflects the incomprehensibility of

God: “This worship of God, the source of all being who is the mystery beyond being, is

offered by us in our feeble, fumbling, faulty language of praise. For it is only in the

language of praise that we can approach what we cannot know.”21 It is only a shadow
of the Almighty God that our liturgy displays. A shadow. But the shadow belies the

true presence of a being mightier than the shadow. The world is symbolic; Christian

worship must also be so.22 “Material or sensible modes of revelation – such as dance, the

visual arts, gesture, scent, etc. – are important “iconic” indicators. These embodied

modes of worship are valued as important means of reflecting (in a dual sense) the

divine.”23

Sight has always been important to the worship of God. Even as the Israelites

wandered in the desert, there were visible manifestations of God in the cloud and the

fire. In the tabernacle, the empty part between the cherubim on the atonement cover

was where God’s presence was, but all the beauty in the entire tabernacle and temple

pointed toward it. God is beautiful. His creation sees and commemorates his work

through the visible. When God did something special in their midst, he called the

Israelites to set up stones that commemorated that act. If anyone were to ask the

meaning of the stones, those who knew gave testimony to what God did then. The

stone was not worshiped; its purpose was simply to point to the God behind the stone.

The prayer shawl and yarmulke of Judaism are reminders of their consecration before

God. Throughout history, liturgy has been accompanied by the visible: “buildings,

stained glass windows, paintings and sculpture, objects wrought in wood, metal, or

even plastic, as well as the matter of everyday life in the form of bread, wine, oil, and

water.”24 On my bookshelf, I have a small olivewood cup, to remind me of my trip to

Israel, drinking communion from that cup, and how God showed himself there.

Worship must be visible. Visibility points to mystery far better than a worship center
that has not one visual symbol. Christ was the image (eikon) of the invisible God.25 The

visibility of certain aspects of liturgy helps the postmodern worshiper.

Besides sight, taste and smell in liturgy allow for a postmodern worship

experience. The taste of the Eucharist will be addressed in the section on story, but the

sense of smell, here. It is difficult to imagine the scents that must have pervaded the

Israelite camp as they wandered in the desert. The daily animal sacrifice, burnt

sacrifices, and the incense. Smells that reminded the people of God, that worship was

occurring. Smell is a strong reminder of events; a certain smells can transport a person

to a past event, whether good or bad, which has not deserved even a passing thought in

years. I wore a particular scented lotion for a short period of time as I stayed in a condo

on the beach. Every time I smell that scent on someone else, I am immediately

transported there. The Russian Orthodox experience is full of incense. Postmoderns

want to experience the liturgical smell of worship.

What about the sense of touch and hearing? Both can be embodied in the

liturgical “passing of the peace.”

“In the historic Mass, the passing of the peace refers to Matthew 5:23-24, 1
Corinthians 11, and the early Church’s custom of the kiss of peace. The choice of
gesture can be left to the people – to shake hands, hug, or give a kiss of
reconciliation – but the point of the liturgical element is that God, the subject,
gives peace.”26
The pastor says, “The peace of the Lord be with you always.” And congregants say,

“and also with you.” This shows peace between the pastor and the people, and the

people are then called to reconcile any disputes between them by passing the peace to

one another – it can be a time of reconciliation and repentance. 27 The call and response
typical of liturgy calls the worshiper to hear not just the voice of the leader, but also the

voices of fellow worshipers and his own.

In addition to the hearing, periods of silence are part of liturgy. Silence and

meditation are arts being recovered in the today’s world, and yet are characteristic of

liturgy. At Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, worshipers have opportunity

for silent praise to God and silent confession. Silence deepens reverence, for any

person, upon entering a Cathedral, awestruck by the magnificence of the structure,

responds either by whispers, or simply silence.

Our participation in worship, as physical and spiritual people, must a physical

and a spiritual participation. Certain liturgies allow this. One example is how

“the Maundy Thursday liturgy makes a physical impact on people through the
laying on of hands, the footwashing, the eating and drinking of the sacramental
bread and wine, the carrying of cultic objects in procession, and the removal of
the sensations of sight and sound through gradual darkness and silence.” 28

Multi-sensory liturgy, then, involves the postmodern worshiper in a participatory

experience of God, which reflects Webber’s prediction, “Worship is not a lecture or a

concert done for us. Authentic worship is done by us. We are the players, God is the

audience.”29 Involvement of all senses is crucial to participatory worship.30

Postmoderns, Story, and Liturgy

Each individual human being has his or her own story. Communities have as

story. Nations and ethnic groups have their own story as well. Although postmodern

thought is suspicious of one unifying metanarrative, it cannot deny story. Narrrative, is

the most effective communication style for the postmodern. And what better way to

communicate the story than through the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist?
 “’The sacraments answer the postmodern hunger for a true story after
modernity’s impoverished recital of facts and figures. Week after week, they
allow us to revisit the story of the Christian gospel – another’s death for the sake
of our life. But they do so in a uniquely comprehensive way, bringing us the
words, images, sounds, tastes, and smells of that story – the splashing of water,
the sound of a breaking load of matzo, the pouring of wine.’” 31

What connects Christians across denominational lines? It is the story of the ancient

Israelites, the story of Christ, the story of the early church; creation, fall, redemption,

and consummation. This is enacted through the biblical sacraments, connecting

worshipers to the past, the present, and the future.

Webber found, “a deep desire to return to a more frequent and meaningful

experience of communion. Here is where a deep, substance-filled encounter with God

is most fully experienced on the personal level.”32 Not that communion must be

celebrated weekly, but more often than it currently is celebrated than in the average

evangelical church. The rehearsal of the redemption as the most important story in the

world today is a liturgical act that is not to be appended to the service as dispensable,

but given a central part to play. Here, the story of God interacts with the personal story

of the individual and the collective story of the community. Triune worship involves

“Son worship” through the sacrament of communion, which reflects a knowable

metanarrative, the story of all people.33

The story is one that is reflected in the movements of the liturgical calender; it is

also a ritual. Ritual is a characteristic of many groups. The Martial Arts are full of

ritual: ritual dress (the gee), ritual gestures (bowing to the mat, other students, the

sensei, etc.), and ritual creeds. These rituals are fully expected and required of anyone

who seeks to understand and follow Martial Arts; they are visual marks of participation
in the community. There are also rituals associated with the rites of passage (belts) in

the art. Other examples of ritual for identity in a group abound. For many, ritual is

expected in Christianity. Balance must be reached, however, for

“’Those who reject ritual believe they can throw away the box (liturgy) in which
the gift comes and concentrate wholly on the gift. By contrast, those who value
ritual tend to focus too much of their attention on the box; they worry too much
about getting the ritual right, and worship becomes mechanistic. . . Ritual
behavior works precisely because it draws attention away from the self and
allows people an opportunity to greet God.’”34

In the act of approaching God, there is the ritual of confession, absolution, and praise. It

is universally accepted that worship is a process, a story. Like the karate students,

ritual requires bowing and other gestures in order to elicit a sense of the holy. 35

Story, therefore, is essential to the postmodern view of life and liturgy. It is the

glue that ties the community with the experience. It is what makes the postmodern life

fluid. All is interrelated and must be together in order to function properly.

Toward a Postmodern Liturgy

If liturgy is truly a friend to postmodernism in its community, participation, and

story, then what does it mean, practically for the church? It will not be easy to bring

together the two traditions where one asks, “Where’s the reverence?” in one experience,

and “Where’s the community?” in the other. The scope of this paper does not lend itself

to the entire picture of practical implications, but a few principles must suffice.

First, the recovery of the tradition of liturgy is a celebration.

“’The uncritical use of tradition may leave the unwanted implication that
Christian teaching is essentially an archaic or dogmatic traditionalism that is
determined simply by rigid formulas and in-group prejudices. Rather,
“tradition,” as Jews and Christians live it, is a vital social reality that receives and
transmits the history of revelation. Tradition wants to be danced, sung, feasted upon,
 and celebrated. Tradition is shared in a social process through seasonal
celebrations and the recollection of mighty events.‘”36

The recovery of ancient liturgy cannot be boring repetition. It must be a vital, living

reality, which enlivens the worship of the people. Liturgy may be solemn, but must

always be imbued with deep meaning for the postmodern.

Second, although some of the beauty of liturgy is the predictable repetition,

which allows the worshiper to focus not on himself, but on God, this predictable

repetition will not resonate with postmodern worshipers. It can’t be the same every

week; part of the fascination of the ritual and symbol is its infusion of meaning and

uniqueness. It may be that churches must focus on their individual rhythm, rather than

the rhythm of the liturgical calendar.

Third, recovery of ancient liturgy must be a daring adventure (an exciting story).

Some of the ancients worshiped in ways in which, frankly, were a little weird. Those

who plan liturgy should seek to surprise and interest, not shock the worshiper.

Postmodernism is eclectic, and although that may be offensive to some who value

liturgy, it does not have to be.

May Christians be those who fuse the ancient and postmodern in a way that

people value. May the church speak to the world through community, participation

and story. May the people be caught up in the metanarrative that defines life, until the

consummation of all things.

1
Robert E. Webber, “The Crisis of Evangelical Worship: Authentic Worship in a Changing World,” in Ancient &
Postmodern Christianity: Paleo-Orthodoxy in the 21st Century ed. Kenneth Tanner & Christopher A. Hall. (Downers
Grove: Intervarsity Press, 2002), 152. Webber “conducted a survey in the fall of 1999 among 176 twenty-
somethings from 38 states, 41 denominations and 14 countries. The respondents were all committed evangelical
Christians, active in the church and likely to have positions of clergy and lay leadership by the year 2010. The
goal of the survey was to discover the direction of the next generation of leaders.”
2
Ibid, 151.
3
Ibid.
4
Ibid.
5
Stanley J. Grenz A Primer on Postmodernism, (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1996), 6.
6
Ibid., 7.
7
Marva Dawn, Reaching out Without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for the Turn-of-the Century
Culture, (Grand Rapids: Wm. B Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1995), 242.
8
Webber, 144.
9
Robert E. Webber, Ancient-Future Faith,.(Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1999), 101, 115.
10
Alan G. Padgett, “Theology as Worship: The Place of Theology in a Postmodern Universit,y,” in Ancient &
Postmodern Christianity: Paleo-Orthodoxy in the 21st Century ed. Kenneth Tanner & Christopher A. Hall. (Downers
Grove: Intervarsity Press, 2002), 243.
11
Marva Dawn, 261.
12
Marva Dawn, 274 (quoting John Nordin).
13
Grenz, 8.
14
Jimmy Long, Emerging Hope: A Strategy for Reaching Postmodern Generations, (Downers Grove: InterVarsity
Press, 2004), 89.
15
Ibid., 204.
16
Webber, “The Crisis. . .,” 152.
17
James K.A. Smith, Introducing Radical Orthodoxy: Mapping a Post-Secular Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker
Academic, 2004), 77.
18
The difficulty here is whether the rhythm of the liturgical calendar reflects the rhythm of the individual
church. What if there is a sermon series on Ephesians began right after Christmas, and continued through Lent?
Should the church change the series to reflect the liturgical calendar, or should it simply allow the celebrations of
the church year to be valid when they coincide with a break in the teaching? This is a difficult question. Long
sees the danger in small groups becoming tribal groups within a single church because of the potential
fragmentation (102). When different churches follow their own rhythm, is it the same thing (a negative
fragmentation), or do postmoderns look for community only within their smaller group? If a postmodern
person is suspicious of the metanarrative, does that mean they want no part of the story the larger, ecumenical
church? Rhythm is good, but which rhythm do the people desire to follow? More importantly, which rhythm
does God want?
19
Eric Landstrom “Postmodern Worship Needs”
http://www.ovrlnd.com/GeneralInformation/Postmodern_Worship.html
20
Long, 180.
21
Webber, “The Crisis. . .” 147.
22
Stanley J. Grenz and John R. Franke, Beyond Foundationalism: Shaping Theology in a Postmodern Context
(Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 142.
23
Smith, 77.
24
Peter W. Williams (ed.), Perspectives on American Religion and Culture., (Malden: Blackwell Publishers Inc, 1999),
172.
25
Colossian 1:15; referred to in Smith, 228.
26
Dawn, 247.
27
Ibid., 248.
28
Frank C. Senn, “Sacraments and Social History: Postmodern Practice,” (Theology Today 58 no 3 O 2001), 301.
The “carrying of the cultic objects” refers to the stripping of the altar while the choir chants the words of Psalm
22.
29
Webber, “The Crisis. . .,” 152.
30
What then, are the practical implications of this? To cite only a few: candles, icons, powerpoint slides with
provoking images, scents, movement, dance, celebration tastes, touching of one another as well as other objects,
darkness and light, . . .
31
Long, 185, quoting Andy Crouch.
32
Webber, “The Crisis. . . ,” 152.
33
Ibid., 148.
34
Dawn, 244-5, quoting Patrick Keifert.
35
Ibid., 267.
36
Grenz and Franke, 93, quoting Thomas Oden, emphasis mine.