Abstract
In this challenging book, David Taylor, a Salvation Army officer, offers a bold and ambitious ecclesiology for a Christian movement which has resisted labels and which has displayed a degree of ambiguity in its relations with other churches. Written for ecumenists both inside and outside the movement, it is not always comfortable reading: the basic thesis is that the absence of a serious theological engagement with koinonia and the excessively individualistic approach to salvation which stems from aggressive mission have meant that there has been a reluctance to learn important lessons from the ecumenical context. It is divided into two loosely related parts. The first describes the evolution of the Salvation Army in its theological, social and political context. Taylor reveals a complex history, which is rooted in the American holiness movement as well as Wesleyan Methodism. It is a highly nuanced account, which displays a thorough knowledge of the sources, as well as the wider history of Evangelicalism. There are fascinating forays into some of the struggles with the mainline churches of the time, including a detailed account of the remarkably sympathetic response of the established church. The early leaders do not come across well: both William and Catherine Booth are presented warts and all, but particular venom is reserved for Bramwell Booth who was a particularly complex and difficult character. Although Taylor is an insider, he is not prone to idolizing history and is at times extremely critical of the excessive militarism (and quasi-clericalism) of the foundational metaphor, as well as the not unrelated authoritarianism of the leadership: ‘In adopting a military metaphor, the debilitating nature of clericalization, in terms of its impact upon the mobilization of every member into ministry, has become ingrained in the very fabric of the movement’ (p. 141). He also criticizes an approach to sacramentalism that is neither internally consistent nor able to listen to the wider ecumenical experience.
To defend his approach, which amounts to a call for making the Salvation Army a more democratic and sacramental church with a greater sense of catholicity, he engages in Part Two in what is virtually a separate book which brings the theology of Salvationism into dialogue with the ecclesiology of Karl Barth, which is nothing if not ambitious. He offers a detailed and accurate account of Barth’s theology interspersed with reflections on how this might relate to the development of the Salvation Army. Although Taylor occasionally loses a sense of direction, on the whole he carries off his project: critiques are offered of entire sanctification in favour of a more realistic account of holiness which pays due regard to human sin. This provides an answer to the excessive complacency that can result from a belief in perfection. At the same time, Taylor suggests, it is time to rethink the use of sacraments both as an ecumenical gesture but also as a way of establishing a sense of fellowship as both gift and goal. This also offers a way out of the overly hierarchical model of authority and organization, which would allow a sense of the priesthood of all believers to be treasured in a more democratic and accountable ecclesiology. In its way this is an iconoclastic book that might help a much-loved movement reinvent itself. Humbly sharing the journey with the other churches may be the best place to start. Ours, after all, is a world where militarist metaphors have become highly contested but where work among the outcast and poor remains painfully pressing.