The starting point of all thought is an idea of God. Levison
does not begin his book by laying out his idea of God, and, indeed, most books
do not. Nevertheless, implied in every discourse, begun ostensibly at whatever
point, is an idea of God that undergirds the whole. However, Levison does not
leave us merely to infer his idea of God, for he makes his idea explicit in two
reciprocal statements of utmost clarity. On page 17 he states that any
perceived distinction between the human spirit and the divine spirit is a
"false dichotomy." Further, on page 35 he says, "The ruach, the spirit-breath, is an amazing
amalgamation of human breath and divine spirit." The thoughtful reader
will pause to reflect upon the metaphysics embodied in these statements.
If the human spirit and the divine spirit cannot be
dichotomized, and instead are amalgamated, then "god" must dwell
along side man within a sphere of reality-in-general. I now write
"god" in lower-case and enclosed within quotation marks to indicate
that whatever is being referred to cannot be the God of the Bible nor the God
of historic and orthodox Christianity. The Bible does not teach us of anything
like reality-in-general. A concept of reality-in-general is the product of
unbelief.
For example, the pagan Greek philosopher Aristotle spoke of
reality as a continuum having the extreme poles of non-being and absolute
being, and conceived of "god" as an "un-moved mover" who
dwelt at the pole of absolute being. For Aristotle, man dwelt somewhere on the
continuum, higher than the pole of non-being, but lower than the pole of
absolute being. Thus, unbelief may speak of "god," but conceives of
"god" and man as inhabiting the same sphere of "reality,"
though "god" may be higher than man.
In contrast, the Bible teaches us of the un-created Creator,
who brought forth out of nothing a universe of reality. God Himself is not
bound up within the sphere of created reality, but stands separate and distinct
from it as the un-created Creator. God has created man in His own image. Thus,
man exhibits analogically various attributes that God exhibits absolutely, and
on this basis there is a sense in which God and man commune. Within this
communion, it may be true in a formal sense to say that God is higher than man.
However, God's rank is not achieved by a higher place on a continuum, but
always is by virtue of the fact that God is the Creator and man is the
creature. Historic and orthodox Christianity discerned and embraced this truth.
The Council of Chalcedon (A. D. 451) discerned that in the Person of Christ a
true human nature and a true divine nature are joined, yet without mingling.
Even in the Person of Christ the human and the divine are not mingled.
Levison mingles the human and the divine, and states in no
uncertain terms that to separate them is a "false dichotomy."
Therefore, the "god" of Levison – or at the very least, the
"god" of Fresh Air – is the
"god" of Aristotle and not the God of the Bible, nor the God of
Chalcedon, nor the God of historic and orthodox Christianity. It is of critical
importance to labor this point, for one's idea of God controls and determines
all avenues of philosophy and theology. Levison's theology of the holy spirit
is what it is fundamentally because his idea of God is what it is. It is the task
of this review to explain how this is so.
Since God created man in His own image, therefore man also
has thoughts and brings forth a word. However, man everywhere and at all times
is a creature. His word belongs to the sphere of created reality. Just as the
un-created being of God is sharply distinct from the created being of man, so
the Word of God is sharply distinct from the word of man. The Word of God is
ultimate and absolute; the word of man is finite and relative. The Word of God
is definitive of and legislative for all reality; the word of man is reflexive,
responsive and confessional. It is the duty of man to conform his thoughts and
words to the authoritative standard of the Word of his Creator.
Since Levison does not sharply distinguish God and man,
therefore neither does he sharply distinguish the Word of God and the word of man.
Indeed, if the spirit of "god" and the spirit of man are amalgamated,
as Levison declares, then it is not possible to make any kind of fundamental
distinction between the word of "god" and the word of man. At the
very least there is in that case no sense in which the word of "god"
could be absolutely definitive or legislative for man.
Levison makes it quite evident that he harbors this
attitude. On page 31 he describes the book of Ecclesiastes as a "point of
view." On pages 71 and 74 he describes the book of Isaiah as a
"dream." On page 77 he says that what Isaiah has to "offer"
is a "model." And on pages 101 through 114 he repeatedly
characterizes the book of Joel as a "dream." Certainly, the "god" of Fresh Air, whose spirit is amalgamated with the human spirit,
speaks to man. But he cannot speak with ultimate authority. The being and word
of such a "god" are correlative to the being and word of man.
Therefore, his word is a "dream" or a "model" or a
"point of view" that is "offered" for man's consideration.
To be sure, Levison appeals to a kind of authority. He says, for example, that
there is a word that is "fresh and surprising" concerning the holy
spirit, and that there is a book that serves as "the gateway to an
experience of the holy spirit." (p. 5) However, the reader finds that the
word and the book intended are Levison's word and Levison's book, not the Word
of God and not the Bible.
The chief intellectual consequence of an un-orthodox idea of
God and His Word is dialectical tension of thought. Dialectical tension
involves mainly an inability to integrate perceptions of unity and perceptions
of diversity. God is ultimate unity in the singularity of un-created being, and
simultaneously God is ultimate diversity in the three Persons of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Analogous to the un-created being of God, the
world of His creation is characterized by a temporal unity and a temporal
diversity, both of which have their only reference point and integrating
principle in the ultimate unity and diversity of their Creator. If the human
mind does not honor God as God, then there remains no viable integrating
principle. Since the humanist mind cannot integrate unity and diversity, and
since unity and diversity are equally persistent qualities of reality, then
they must compete for emphasis. The humanist mind cannot avoid alternating
emphasis between them as the swings of a pendulum.
As explained above, Fresh
Air embraces the "god" of Aristotle instead of the God of the
Bible. Accordingly, we find exhibited in its pages the dialectical tensions of
humanistic thought. Levison cannot say "Yes, yes" or "No,
no," but must say "Yes and No." Is reality characterized by
unity? To the extent that Levison would like to answer, "Yes," to
that same extent he must answer, "No" to the converse question
regarding diversity. Is reality characterized by diversity? To the extent that
Levison would like to answer, "Yes," to that same extent he must
answer, "No" to the converse question regarding unity. For an example
of this tension we may look at Levison's comparison and contrast of the Qumran
and Corinthian communities. On one hand Levison lauds the unity of the Qumran
people because they "sensed the communal presence of the spirit" (p.
130), and chides the diversity of the Corinthian's "divided temple"
(p. 128). But on the other hand he chides the unity of Qumran "uniformity"
(p. 133), and lauds the diversity of the Corinthian's "kaleidoscopic
social structures" (p. 133).
Closely related to the tension of unity-and-diversity is the
tension of good-and-evil. God's Word, and His Word alone, defines good and evil.
The humanist mind will not accept God's Word on the matter, but reserves to
itself the task to discern good and evil. Therefore all humanistic thought of
good and evil must be couched in dialectical tension. As the pendulum swings
one way, the humanist mind places an emphasis on unity. In this case there is
no way to distinguish between good and evil. If all is One, then there is no
basis on which the humanist mind may say that the One is good rather than evil.
As the pendulum swings the other way, the humanist mind places an emphasis on
diversity. In this case it is not possible to integrate good and evil. If all
is flux, then there must be evil in terms of which – in contrast to which – the
good may be known to be good, but then there is no way to explain how good and
evil can coexist in the same reality. Levison exhibits this tension in many
places in Fresh Air, though his
chapter on Job presents the clearest example.
Job lost his children, his house and property, and finally
was afflicted with terrible boils and sores. The story of Job is an account of
his attempt to assess his circumstances in light of perceivable principles of
cause and effect. The story also embodies the assessments of his friends, who
have a more dispassionate perspective. The lessons of the Book of Job are that
our perceptions and our understanding of cause and effect are not sufficient to
explain all of reality, and that underlying all understanding is the
all-controlling and providential God, who does all things according to the
secret council of His own will.
Levison, however, makes something else of the Book of Job. The
lesson that Levison sees is that, "If you want to find the spirit that
creates new life, you have to look into the heart of darkness." (p. 24) Such
a notion is a paradoxical tension. Levison is mindful of this tension, but he
revels in it as something noble or magical. He calls it a "song." (p.
25) He says, "The pendulum swings in this song between death and life,
life and death …" But somehow he is sure, "… it swings more widely
toward life than it does toward death." Thus, he accords himself the
mysterious gift of infallible interpretation of the swings of the pendulum.
There is no pendulum in reality, but only in the humanist mind. And so the
humanist is the supreme arbiter of what the pendulum does. Levison is sure that
Job was a humanist, as he says that Job "…holds both convictions [of the
spirit and of death] in tension." (p. 34)
In the humanist mind death is necessary as a context in
which life may be known and appreciated as life. In such a mind life is
necessary as a context in which death may be known and feared and abhorred as
death. The humanist mind cannot integrate them, and so must hold them in
tension and swing as a pendulum between them. Thus, Levison muses further
concerning the tension of life vs. death: "God…breathes spirit into a body
made of dust and destined for the ash heap…" (p. 38) But, why should the
human body be destined for the ash heap? Levison already has accepted death as
a necessary adjunct to life (a pendulum, after all, must have two poles in
order to swing) and so he does not muse on this question. The true answer is
sin.
Our bodies are destined to the ash heap of death as a direct
result and consequence of our sin. Sin is nothing more (nor less) than our
failure to comply with and conform to the Law of God. (I Jn. 3:4) God warned us
at the very outset of human existence that the consequence of sin is death.
(Gen. 2:17) Eve did not believe it, nor Adam after her, and humanism ever after
has been engaged in the struggle to romanticize death in some way that does not
lead to repentance. It is a universal principle that if the truth of Creation
is not embraced, then neither can sin be correctly understood. Since the
humanist mind does not grasp the truth of sin, then death can be for the
humanist nothing more nor less than one pole of a dialectical tension.
Levison stands squarely in the humanist tradition. He
embraces the "pendulum." For him, darkness and death are necessary as
a context in which truth may be known to be truth, as he says, "…truth
means the most in the heart of darkness." (p. 25) And for him darkness and
death are necessary backdrops that allow praise and worship to shine. "It
may be," he conjectures, "that praise means the most in the valley of
the shadow of death." (p. 25) But in the Book of Revelation the heavenly
hosts somehow did not need a backdrop of darkness and death for their praise.
Humanism is left to wonder how the praise of these hosts can have any meaning
in a paradise where "there shall no longer be any death; there shall no
longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain…" (Rev. 21:4)
Thus, Levison's treatise is rife with inconsistencies and
tensions as are required by the humanist dogma that man must be left to
generate his own word concerning reality. Levison is quite transparent in
characterizing himself as "seeking" (p. 3) and "craving"
(p.4) the spirit, but he then characterizes Daniel as noble for not "seeking" or
"craving" the spirit (p. 57). He tells his readers on page 10,
"My hope is that it [his book] will lead you to a richer, more robust
experience…" But by page 137 he warns his readers that, "our
communities shrivel as a result of our obsession with individual
experiences." Levison characterizes the spirit as "mercilessly"
and "violently" driving Jesus into the wilderness (p. 177), but also
suggests that the spirit can do nothing in us unless we "allow" it
(p. 27, 98) or "offer" it an "opportunity" (p. 212).
The paradox of good-and-evil influences and determines
Levison's Christology. The dominoes set off by failure to honor God as Creator
continue to fall. A deficient idea of Creation results in a deficient idea of
sin; a deficient idea of sin results in a deficient idea of redemption. On
humanist terms, the human predicament is not – and cannot be – guilt due to violation
of God's Law. Therefore, the humanist must consign the life of Christ to some
other purpose than the biblical, historical, and orthodox doctrine of redemption.
Levison speaks only vaguely of "the message about Jesus" (p. 183) but
nowhere spells out what he thinks is the content of that message. The humanist
sees Christ as bound up, along with all of us, within the tensions of
good-and-evil, or spirit-and-death. This is the Christ of Levison. "Not in
the peaceful confines of a visionary experience," he writes, "but in the
hostile wilderness, locking horns with the personification of evil, would Jesus
learn of God's ability to care for him." (p. 176) He comments further:
"Only where the spirit plunges him into the wilderness in a battle with
evil can Jesus learn that God…commands angels and animals alike to serve
him." (p. 177)
It is true that Christ became flesh as a human infant, and
thereby required to grow into human self-consciousness. It is said of Jesus
that He "kept increasing in wisdom and stature." (Lk. 2:52) And when
this was said of Him, He already, at age twelve, had demonstrated
self-conscious of His divine nature and mission. (Lk. 2:49) John the Baptist
was aware of Jesus' divine nature and mission on the occasion of His baptism.
(Jn. 1:29) And so it is entirely unbiblical for Levison to suggest that Jesus
lacked this awareness and self-consciousness on this occasion, and could not
acquire such self-consciousness apart from entering into a context of evil.
If God is who Aristotle said he was, then the word of such a
"god" can be in a sense a higher word, but it cannot be an absolute,
definitive, authoritative Word. Thus, Fresh
Air does not glean from the Bible what the Bible actually teaches, but reads
into the Bible what the author hopes to find. Levison apparently does not see
in Scripture a Creator Who is sovereign over all of His creation, and Who
condescends to redeem His people from their sin of turning away from His Law.
However, he apparently does see the
leftist dogma of feminism, globalism, multiculturalism, socialism,
environmentalism, egalitarianism, and homosexual advocacy, and portrays scriptural
authors as though they self-consciously held and advocated this same agenda. For
example, he portrays the vision of Simeon as "the shocking promise of a
border-free world" (p. 84), and portrays Joel as having
"dreamed" of an "inspired anarchy, a world without
borders." (p. 103) Similar notes of feminism and socialism are evident
also. More noteworthy for its absurdity is Levison's homosexual advocacy.
Levison appeals to an exhortation of Paul to the
Corinthians. In I Corinthians 3:16-17 Paul declares that the Corinthians are a
temple of God, and that if anyone destroys that temple, God will destroy him.
On this basis Levison decries "schism" in the Church. At all costs
"schism" must be avoided, he suggests, and suggests further that
according to I Corinthians 3:17 anyone who is guilty of "schism" is
guilty of destroying the temple of God and is liable thereby to be himself
destroyed by God. (p. 127) On page 125 he recounts the case of a church that
divided over the issue of homosexuality. Amazingly, incredulously, it is not
the homosexuals but those who object to homosexuality that he charges with
"schism-making." Rather than the "schism" of opposing sin,
Levison advocates "compromise." (p. 125) Yet, this is not really so
amazing. It is rather another example of how the humanist mind appeals to
Scripture as simply a collection of aphorisms that may be mined piecemeal to
advocate for any and every notion of human origin. In truth homosexuals are the
ones who are tearing the church apart and who will be judged by God. Psalm 15:4
plainly states that the one who will dwell with God on His holy hill is he who
despises the vile man. Yet, the humanist mind may read into I Cor. 3:17 that to
despise homosexuality is to promote "schism" and that the way of the
spirit is "compromise."
This review could go on to detail at great length many other
examples of how a humanist notion of "god" results in departure from
biblical, historic, and orthodox Christianity. It is hoped that the foregoing
is sufficient to demonstrate the general tenor of the book. It promotes a
humanist idea of "god," which therefore requires a humanist idea of
"sin," which therefore requires a humanist idea of
"redemption." Such ideas speak of a "god" who dwells with
man on a continuum of reality-in-general, whose word to man therefore can be at
best a "point of view" that he "offers" for man's
consideration. Such a "god" must struggle along with us to negotiate
the pendulum swings of yin and yang. Therefore "sin" must be entirely
redefined, or better yet, entirely ignored. The humanist Christ must be driven
into an evil wilderness before he can learn of "god's" care. The
humanist "holy spirit" therefore can be nothing but breath.
In truth, God is the un-created Creator of all reality. As
Creator, He stands separate and distinct from the world of creation. He has
created man in His own image, giving him personal attributes. God spoke His
definitive and authoritative Word to man, declaring the reality of the world
and man's required course of action. However, man rebelled against this Word
and thereby entered into enmity with God. In Christ God purposed to redeem His
people from their sins, and He gave them the gift of His Holy Spirit to teach
them and to comfort them as in God's power and grace they walk in newness of
life. This is the true message of the Bible, and is the conviction of historic and
orthodox Christianity. Thus, this message of truth is the real fresh air that
is so sorely needed by a suffocating church in our day. The book going by the
title of Fresh Air only further
contributes to the smog of confusion.
