“Stories to Guide Us”
A Review of
Patron Saints for Postmoderns:
Ten from the Past Who Speak to Our Future.
By Chris Armstrong.
Reviewed by Austen Sandifer-Williams.
Patron Saints for Postmoderns:
Ten from the Past Who Speak to Our Future.
By Chris Armstrong.
Paperback: IVP Books, 2009.
Buy now: [ ChristianBooks.com ]
In Patron Saints for Postmoderns: Ten from the Past Who Speak to Our Future, author Chris Armstrong offers ten portraits of Christians from history to inspire readers to live their faith more fully. Using a mixed definition of “saint” that falls somewhere between the canonized saints of Roman Catholicism and Orthodoxy, and the Protestant definition of the sainthood of all believers, Armstrong focuses on “certain special people to pierce our complacency and hold up for us the possibility of a better way—not only for us individually, but for the whole church (8).” The book includes a chapter each on each of the following: Antony of Egypt, Gregory the Great, Dante, Alighieri, Margery Kempe, John Amos Comenius, John Newton, Charles Simeon, Amanda Berry Smith, Charles M. Sheldon and Dorothy L. Sayers.
As a professor of Christian history, Armstrong’s passion for history and for the saints he selected shines throughout the book, with each story brimming with dramatic and interesting details that bring the characters to life. However, Armstrong’s list of saints is somewhat surprising in that it does not include some of those individuals who one might most expect to speak to postmodern readers. And it does not become clear until later in the book exactly what Armstrong’s agenda is in making his selection.
He states that his choice is partly so that “we can learn from so many more people than just the usual Protestant heroes, such as Billy Graham, Adoniram Judson, John Wesley and others, and even such usual giants of our earlier history as Augustine, Francis, and Ignatius Loyola (14).” However, this argument for overlooking some of the “big heroes” loses some punch when Armstrong also bemoans the lack of sense of history in many postmodern Christians’ lives.
If there is a dearth of history in postmodern churches, then why not introduce some of the “usual giants,” with whom many readers may not be acquainted? Examples of saints whose works speak so well to today’s challenges include: Julian of Norwich, who, in the 14th century, explored feminine metaphors for God; Ignatius of Loyola, whose examen offers a tangible discipline for discernment of God’s will and work; and John of the Cross, whose insights into dark nights of the soul have provided a path from doubt and uncertainty to vibrant faith for countless people. These individuals might be better fits for a postmodern audience than some of those in this volume.
And there is the rub. Although the book is nominally intended for postmoderns, it subtly vacillates between speaking to a postmodern audience and castigating postmodernism. Armstrong selected his stories with a clear agenda to remedy one of the major ills of postmodernism in his opinion: relativism. Through these stories, he seeks to establish an unwavering moral truth in the midst of complexity. Thus, he intentionally builds up the brokenness of each of his saints, showing them grappling with their faith over time, failing and succeeding, sometimes in equal measure. Such pictures seem more true to life than many portraits of saints’ lives, which often include a moment of revelation followed by an exceptional life. In the end though, each of Armstrong’s saints triumphs over chaos and complex circumstances, standing for moral truth amidst uncertainty.
Toward the goal of establishing moral truth, Armstrong somewhat unexpectedly proposes a return to an Enlightenment ideal in which observable truth was thought to be available through a rational, thoughtful process. In his chapter on John Comenius, Armstrong writes:
It may be time for us to recapture some of the values at the heart of Comenius’s early modernism, with its delight in systems and confidence in human knowledge. Enlightenment thinkers—many of them committed Christians—saw that clear thinking and systemic exposition are good things. Science is a good thing, and the orderly and tangible principles of scientific experimentation can bring real clarity—again, a moral value—into human understanding and human interaction (108).
Armstrong proposes this return to Enlightenment styles of thinking, rather than offering a clear alternative that combines the beneficial aspects of postmodern thinking with a potential foundation for truth through Christian frameworks. There are many gifts of postmodernism, including the recognition that all thought and experimentation are human processes and should be methodically critiqued (as opposed to simply accepted as truth). But Armstrong largely ignores such gifts. Indeed, at times, he expresses dismay about modern society for the very things that postmoderns have sought to remedy.
Armstrong sees storytelling as a general casualty of contemporary modernism. He writes, “In the modern period we have lost our sense of the power of story. Story has become something we read to entertain ourselves (18).” In point of fact, restoring the use of narrative is a postmodern technique, one where people in Westernized societies ideally come to recognize the importance of stories and points of view in understanding situations. Armstrong chooses not to point out this benefit of postmodernism, although through storytelling, his book finds its postmodern spirit.
One of Armstrong’s messages is that through stories, readers can come to understand how other people embodied Christ in their own jumbled and chaotic lives. His saints are not intended to offer particular spiritual or theological insights. Their lives make good stories that are relatable to people’s lives today.
So, Armstrong writes about Gregory the Great’s struggles creating a contemplative practice in the midst of extreme busyness, when so many people require his insights and efforts. Ultimately, Gregory comes to the conclusion that such busyness and contemplation do not have to be mutually exclusive, but can be complementary.
Also, Armstrong highlights Margery Kempe, who received a vision from Jesus while she was deeply overcome with postpartum depression and suicidal thoughts. Although the vision was healing, she does not dramatically and consistently change her life at that time because she was focused on entrepreneurial and parenting pursuits (she was the mother of 14 children).
In addition, Armstrong relates the story of Amanda Berry Smith, who was born into slavery and found the courage to reach out to blacks and whites with the message of the ability of sanctification to overcome racist and classist effects. A poor, black woman who addresses various audiences, bringing the message of forgiveness, compassion, and hope, Smith’s story is one of strength and courage.
Armstrong explains that his saints “are the hard-nosed doers—the incarnators of the gospel (14).” In this sentiment, he expresses perhaps the most postmodern aspect of the book. With a primary focus on incarnation and embodiment, rather than spiritual salvation, Armstrong speaks to real concerns of postmodern Christians who seek ways to embody their faith, believing that Jesus’ message is about transformation here on Earth at least as much as it is about life after death.
In spite of subtle and sometimes overt jabs at postmodernism, Armstrong’s book is promising. The portraits he paints are ones that may inspire and challenge readers. He writes that the challenges these individuals issue to us include:
Are we prepared to see the ways that our forebears in the faith cooperated with God’s grace to shape and live exemplary lives, “bodying forth” what they believed? Are we willing to let those character witnesses speak to us about the social as well as individual spirituality and morality? Will we take to heart their biographies, as well as the stories some of them wrote, and allow those narratives to begin to work in us and change us? (209).
With this in mind, the best way to read Patron Saints for Postmoderns may be to focus on one saint at a time, using Armstrong’s profile as an introduction and then delving into some of the saint’s own writings. Spending time allowing these saints lives to penetrate our hearts may facilitate personal transformations along the lines of what Armstrong hopes to achieve.
——-
Austen Sandifer-Williams is an associate pastor, writer, and creator of the blog, “Basil and Butterflies,” on faith, parenting, and engaging the sacred world. She holds a Master’s degree in Religion from the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California.
C. Christopher Smith is the founding editor of The Englewood Review of Books. He is also author of a number of books, including most recently How the Body of Christ Talks: Recovering the Practice of Conversation in the Church (Brazos Press, 2019). Connect with him online at: C-Christopher-Smith.com
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Though I don’t have time to respond in full right now, I wanted to say: THANK YOU for a nuanced review. You have clearly read the book carefully and found both positive features and inconsistencies. A challenging, thoughtful review indeed–the greatest favor an author can receive. I look forward to re-reading it and processing it, and maybe dialoguing with you further, Austen.
(In addressing you here at the end of my note, I struggled over whether to go with the postmodern freedom to use first names or the more formal modern insistence on last names. Oh what challenging times we live in! Notice I am not, however, afraid to end sentences with prepositions, even though I’ve worked as a book and magazine editor. Perhaps I’m more postmodern than I think. Or perhaps I’m just terminally conflicted, having been born, I am told, in the interstice between the boomers and gen x (1963).)
Peace,
Chris Armstrong
Bethel Seminary
I was delighted to see Chris Armstrong’s posting at the end of the review and she has concluded, like I have, that her writing reveals that she is somewhere on the continuum between modern and postmodern, as most of us are. A mentor of mine is fond of saying that it is called POSTmodern because of the lingering vestiges of modernism; otherwise it would have been called something else completely. I sympathize because I also was born in the very interstice:1963. I have a big rule I have lived by since turning 40: I am allowed to be as conflicted as I like. How postmodern is that!?
Peace to you all,
Susan
Susan,
I love your rule. I’m tempted to take it as my own. Certainly it puts us in good company, including such folks as Soren Kierkegaard, Karl Barth, and even the evangelical ministers John Newton and Charles Simeon from my book. All of those folks were willing to let the paradoxes of the Bible stand as paradoxes–indigestible though they have been for “moderns.” And yes, I also think postmodernism contains much from modernism.
But maybe one has to be born in 1963 to really “get” this paradoxical mode of thinking and living 🙂
Peace,
Chris
Thank you for your generous reply, Chris. Your appreciation of my review is the highest compliment I can imagine.
The tension between modernism and postmodernism is often palpable; it is something with which I also struggle. Hopefully, our next age will be one that melds the gifts of both. (Perhaps we will even settle on clear distinctions for familiar names verses titles! I am quite happy that you chose to use my familiar name here).
I look forward to further discussions and future books. And, Susan, here’s to being open to conflicted-ness.
With sincerity and gratitude,
Austen
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