A while ago, I read Brian D. McLaren’s A Generous Orthodoxy as a sort of theological test. Could I support his values and, by extension, the emergent church as a whole? In the end, my faith decisions were determined by community rather than theology–almost always a better determinant. McLaren’s book made me think a great deal about a lot of important issues, but I’m not sure I can give it as enthusiastic an endorsement as, say, Brennan Manning’s The Ragamuffin Gospel.

I should say, first, that I think McLaren’s book is well-written, and that is not ordinarily a qualification for writing a Christian book. Whether academic or not, most books published by Christian publishing houses are painful to read for a variety of qualitative reasons that I won’t go into here. So it is no small thing to say that McLaren’s writing style is lively, informative, passionate, and rarely cheesy. He avoids exclamation points (the most overused punctuation mark in Christian literature) and says exactly what he means.

And because he’s so clear about what he means, there’s a lot to think about after finishing the book. I think the first, most important point to make about McLaren’s theology in this book is that it’s not established. He’s not laying down a theological system or a way to structure a church. Rather, he’s asking the most important question facing the modern Church–do our practices and beliefs serve the church (small c) or the Gospel? Are we so concerned with being Christians (i.e., operating within a particular denominational identity to the exclusion of others) that we aren’t doing the sorts of things that exemplar Christians would do?

McLaren highlights this point by distinguishing orthodoxy from orthopraxis. He does not say that orthodoxy is unimportant (it is, after all, in the title of the book), and he does not propose abandoning theological truth (or, rather, Truth). He proposes instead that we tie our conception of orthodoxy to the resulting orthopraxy, or lack thereof. If a theological system does not lead us to do the sorts of things Jesus would want us to do–serving the poor, serving our neighbors, building stable communities–then it’s not worth the effort. Insular churches that speak a great deal about what a Christian should be without any connection to their community and the world at large are of little value, in the terms that McLaren sets. Thus, a “generous” orthodoxy is one that leads to orthopraxy; it is an orthodoxy that demands that Christians be Christians.

This point is the strongest in the book because it is so self-evident, though the results do not necessarily favor either side. One could point, for example, to the public vilification of homosexuals by religious and political leaders as failed theology. Certainly, the pop theology of conservative Christianity that treats these people as subhuman is a failure both for Christians and for the world. But we are also led to ask about the astonishing rise in priestly vocations in dioceses that uphold traditional Catholic orthodoxy–which includes relatively conservative teachings on sexuality. Clearly, these are separate teachings, the former based on hate and grand-standing and the latter based in a complex theological framework (that, in my view anyway, has some serious problems). We can complain about the failures in charity by protesters and politicians, but we must also ask why conservative men and women are drawn to a lifetime of service. It’s a terribly complex issue, and I certainly can’t resolve it. It’s a credit to McLaren that he doesn’t try to resolve it either–again, his work is about setting some general foundations for a “new kind of Christian.”

It is this “new kind of Christian” idea, though, that is (for me, anyway) the weakest point he makes. It’s worth pointing out that he does not believe in reducing all Christianity to “mere Christianity;” instead, he attempts to take from each Christian tradition what will serve a generous orthodoxy in the terms he has defined. I’m not sure if the term has been coined, but I see him as a theological integrationalist. It’s a bit difficult to describe unless you go to an emergent church with this idea. I’ve been to two–Ecclesia in Houston and Mosaic (my current home church) in Austin. At Ecclesia, you’ll see iconography, and at Mosaic, you’ll see Catholic devotional candles; at both, you’ll see PowerPoint presentations and rock-alternative music. Attendees and staff wear whatever they’re wearing. At Mosaic, the liturgical seasons are marked, especially Advent and Lent; Catholic call and response (”The Lord be with you. And also with you.”) also figures prominently here. International and community issues figure prominently in nearly every sermon, and Mosaic in particular is opposed to rampant commercialization. The churches are sometimes called interdenominational rather than nondenominational because they take from a variety of traditions. It’s an exciting thing to be a part of.

But as much as I support the efforts of Mosaic and Ecclesia to bridge the gap between Protestantism and the older traditions of Catholicism and Orthodoxy, I’m not sure I agree with McLaren’s take on it. I think the main problem is that he doesn’t appreciate the importance of difference–because even Mosaic asserts its strong Baptist roots. This leads him to conclude that evangelism in non-Christian areas of the world should seek make the people “followers of Jesus” while retaining their identities as Hindus or Muslims or whatever. As if you could be both–but it sort of makes sense because the subtitle to A Generous Orthodoxy* states that he believes himself to be nearly every type of Christian at once.

The problem is, of course, that you can’t be every kind of Christian at once, as hard as you try. Mosaic may incorporate Benedictine and Franciscan spirituality into its idea of orthodoxy and orthopraxy, but it has not ceased to be Baptist. To try to escape the fragmentation of Christianity is an illusion. We can try to get around it, but we can’t deny it. If these separations are so profound, how can we expect or hope for people of other religions to be both one of us and one of them at the same time? McLaren dreams big, but this point is the greatest flaw in his argument.

But then again, it really isn’t an argument, is it? It’s more of a meditation with internal arguments about what Christianity is and should be. McLaren is not a rule-setting postmodern, the type that demands that everything be changed because Derrida said so. He’s not a hippie grown up to pastor a church where they sit around and talk about helping the poor without actually doing anything. He’s a passionate, reasonable Christian and that perspective shines through every page of A Generous Orthodoxy, even those that I take exception to.

*Why I Am a Missional, evangelical, Post/Protestant, Liberal/Conservative, Mystical/Poetic, Biblical, Charismatic/Contemplative, Fundamentalist/Calvinist, Anabaptist/Anglican, Methodist, catholic, Green, Incarnational, Depressed-Yet-Hopeful, Emergent, Unfinished Christian (On the title page, the commas are plus signs.)