Beyond Christian Zionism: A Travelogue of a Former Idealogue

By Ian Stackhouse

Beyond Christian Zionism tracks the journey of a Christian pastor/theologian from his initial enthusiasm for Christian Zionism in the heady days of the early 1980s, to something approximating a volte-face as a result of hermeneutical revision and political engagement. Given that the church he has pastored for the last twenty years was once an epicenter of Christian Zionism, and is now a multi-ethnic community, the travelogue is as much a reflection on the mission and unity of the Christian community as it is upon the politics of the Middle East. But given the ongoing conflict in the Holy Land, it also carries a prophetic note of warning to lay aside theological fundamentalism and to engage in the painstaking work of peacemaking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cascade Books
• Release date: May 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385203611

Ian Stackhouse

Ian Stackhouse is the senior pastor of Millmead, Guildford Baptist Church in the UK. He teaches in seminaries both in the UK and abroad, and has authored several books, including Praying Psalms (Cascade, 2018) and Letters to a Young Pastor (Cascade, 2019).

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Introduction

It just so happens that my first visit to Israel was on my nineteenth birthday, February 26, 1983. Courtesy of a scholarship with The Friends of Israel Educational Foundation, a pressure group founded by the ever youthful John Levy, ten of us arrived late at night in Jerusalem on the Feast of Purim, checked into a hostel near the Jaffa Gate, and woke the next morning to the unexpected sight of snow.² Given that it was winter, and that Jerusalem is high up in the hills, snow is hardly surprising. But it certainly lingers in my memory of what was to be the beginning of lifelong relationship with Israel. It is a relationship that has swung over the last forty years from an initial love affair, all the way to outright despair, which is often what transpires when you idealize something, and then back to what I think is a more mature relationship: one that is able to hold in tension the complexity of the politics and theology of this unique land, and celebrate Israel, strangely enough, as something like home. It is how I have arrived at that place that drives the narrative of the book: how a young idealistic new convert to evangelical Christian faith in the early eighties swallowed whole the Christian Zionist narrative, eventually spat much of it out, and then, having recovered from this extreme reaction, tried to foster an understanding of the land of Israel that is honouring of its remarkable history, sympathetic of the Palestinian dimension of that history, and then, most importantly, re-imagined in the light of the incarnation.

In setting out such an agenda, I am anxious to make it clear from the very beginning—and will no doubt reiterate this many times—that I do not repudiate Israel’s right to exist. God forbid. Nor do I believe that Israel is now replaced by the church. I find both of those thoughts as odious as any Christian Zionist would find them. According to those celebrated chapters of Romans 9–11, the Jews have yet a remarkable role to play in the unfolding of God’s drama. Indeed, Jews are a remarkable people, full stop. Their contribution to the world is incalculable. And if Christian Zionism is about acknowledging that, then I am a devotee. Where I depart from Christian Zionism, however, and one of the reasons why I feel compelled to go into print about it after all this time, concerns the theological weight one attaches to the Jewish return to the land of Israel. For Christian Zionists, the return is integral, if not the actual reference, to the regrafting of the natural olive branches into their own olive tree, to use St. Paul’s image.³ In most strands of Christian Zionism, the return is prerequisite for the return of Christ. For evangelical Christians like me, however, the restoration to the land for the sake of Jewish conversion and end-time apocalyptic is problematic, since it not only contributes to the political stalemate between Israelis and Palestinians, but also counters the undoubted centrifugal thrust of the gospel out to the nations.

As much as I have tried over the years to reconcile these ideas and marry together Jewish territorialism with the Christian gospel, I have come to the conclusion, as will quickly become apparent, that they are incompatible for the simple reason, as William Davies argues, that the incarnation of Jesus effectively desacralizes the notion of territory.⁴ Indeed, the presence of Jesus desacralizes not just Jewish territorialism, but Samaritan and pagan as well. The opening chapters of John’s Gospel make clear that something very expansive is happening in the ministry of the Word made flesh that will take the locus of God’s covenant promises away from land and towards a person. To reinvigorate the land, therefore, with eschatological and sometimes millenarian significance, as Christian Zionists do, is not only retrograde but also, in a strange kind of irony, unevangelistic, since it tends to downplay conversion for the sake of apocalyptic fulfillment.⁵ In short, the prophecies concerning the land end up as more important than the salvation of souls—both Jew and gentile.

I am sure this is not always the case. After all, Christian Zionism is a peculiarly Protestant evangelical phenomenon. I have no doubt Christian Zionists are passionate about Jesus. But if the popular literature is anything to go by, classical evangelical doctrines are so often eclipsed by the theological interest that gathers around the vision to see the restoration of Israel. Furthermore, in the ongoing conflict with the indigenous Arab population, there is little doubt that the territorial vision of Christian Zionism has hindered rather than helped any long-term political solution. The nomenclature of Judea and Samaria as an alternative to what is more commonly referred to as the West Bank may sound innocuous to some but, as with all political re-naming, the endorsement of a Greater Israel by Christian Zionists negates any idea of a two-state solution. It represents the ascendency of Jewish ethnicity over pluralistic democracy, and is a challenge, as I will attempt to show, to what John Yoder calls the politics of Jesus. If the Jesus revolution was from the very beginning about the creation of heterogenous communities—the destruction of dividing walls of hostility between Jews and gentiles⁶—the movement of Christian Zionism has been in the other direction: a reinforcement of divisions, including the building of actual walls.

Having crossed those physical barriers several times and having spent a significant amount of time in the land, I am not about to make a simple comparison with the state of apartheid that existed in South Africa for much of the twentieth century. The history of the Arab-Israeli conflict is too complex, and too context specific, to allow for such an easy swipe.⁷ What I will observe, however, is a growing sense of betrayal among Palestinian Christians who see Christian Zionism as an oppressive theology that helps solidify present divides rather than challenge them.⁸ It is complex, to be sure. In entering the fray, I fear that no amount of nuance will do justice to all the issues. What I do want to state from the very beginning, however, is that there is something radically new about the Christian gospel that should call to account all political, theological and social constructs, particularly those, like Christian Zionism, that have proven so influential. It is that radical newness that I want to explore in this book.

A word about Jesus the Jew. Contrary to what one might expect in a critique of Christian Zionism, I do not intend at any point in this discussion to erase the Jewishness of Jesus. In the current melee of identity politics, Jewish broadcaster David Baddiel is right to insist on this classification.⁹ Indeed, I intend to strengthen that identity in the last section of the book. For me, the universality of the gospel and the particularity of the Jewish Jesus are not mutually exclusive. The genius of the gospel is that it holds both together. But Jewishness, as Baddiel himself argues with respect to his own concerns about growing antisemitism in Europe, does not necessarily have to equate with a particular ideology—that is, nationalist Zionist ideology—concerning the land. To insist that the two are inseparable is to coerce Jesus into a strangely militant figure, and a trope that clashes with his message of peace as found in the historic gospels. In my estimation, as will become clear in the following chapters, Christian Zionism, both in its British version as well as its American version, skirts close to being another gospel.

To state the theological issues in these bold terms, and to insist thereby on the utter uniqueness of Christ, is not a case of replacement, as Christian Zionists are so quick to accuse. At no point in this book do I posit the church as the replacement of Israel. Rather, I am wanting to celebrate the climax of the covenant story of God in the person of Jesus Christ, whose universal supremacy relativizes, if not makes obsolete, all former arrangements.¹⁰ The gospels bear witness to this. The New Testament unpacks the implications for that on a full range of matters, from ethics all the way to ecclesiology. Hence, what I am seeking to offer, by way of reflection on those same scriptures, is a critique of what I have come to regard as a sub-Christian ideology, and an articulation, in its place, of what many believe to be a more equitable, generous, gospel centred