Review of James KA Smith’s <i>Thinking in Tongues</i> in two parts: Part I

(x-posted at church and pomo)

In laying out his methodological framework for Thinking in Tongues: Pentecostal Contributions to Christian Philosophy James K.A. Smith refers to the centrality of story, witness and testimony.  “There is something irreducible about this mode of testimony – it cannot be simply reduced to a mere pool for extracting philosophical propositions” (xxiii).  Well I have already said too much.  Here then are the witnesses that make up Part I of my review.

I.

I was probably about 18 years old.  Having little involvement in the church through high school I became increasingly involved with a group of Christians for both existential and hormonal reasons.  A few in this crowd attended church in a nearby town.  We decided to go to an evening service there one Friday night.  It was a youth event with an extended period of upbeat praise and worship followed by a time of prayer where the preacher(?) asked if there was anyone that needed prayer.  I remember feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.  I took that to be a sign of God’s calling me forward.  I went to the front and the man asked me if I had ever been baptized in the Holy Spirit.  I did not understand that phrase but I had not been baptized at all so I said no.  I was brought to a separate room where two young men joined me.  One of the guys was someone from the group I hung out with and the other guy looked like someone who was supposed to look like a hippy/Vietnam vet.  They showed me verses about speaking in tongues in the Bible.  Then they asked me if I wanted to be baptized in the Holy Spirit.  Okay.  They laid their hands on me and began speaking in tongues encouraging me to do the same even if it sounds dumb.  Eventually I started babbling a little.  They responded.  Yes!  Thank-you Jesus!  Lamma shabbah sachnee ad naseum . . .  Eventually I stopped making the sounds I was making.  Then I noticed my arms tingling.  Both of them slowly went numb up to my shoulders.  In some unconscious transition I found myself on the floor rolling around laughing.  We all laughed together for a good 5 or 10 minutes.  The laughing felt good.  They told me I could now go home and speak in tongues whenever I wanted.  I went home and tried it.  It didn’t work.

II.

David Bazan – Foregone Conclusions

I don’t want to believe that all of the above is true
But I could be persuaded if you were to give me proof
So why don’t you come over Thursday?
Maybe we can talk it through
As if some new information were possible
To comprehend or introduce

And after all
You and I are nothing more than
Foregone conclusions

You were too busy steering the conversation toward the Lord
To hear the voice of the Spirit begging you to shut the fuck up
You thought it must be the devil trying to make you go astray
And besides, it could not have been the Lord
Because you don’t believe He talks that way

And after all
You and I are nothing more than
Foregone conclusions
Too close to call
Yet we’re still so tightly wound
Around our foregone conclusions

III.

We gathered Easter Sunday in the despised and ridiculed North End of Hamilton.  The small Mennonite church is located in the middle of a neighbourhood covered by thin layers of filth that have settled from the steel miles that line Lake Ontario.  Fortunately for the more wealthy citizens the city is cut in half by a massive rock escarpment where a quarter mile up they were able to build and sprawl away from the fumes and sediment.  The gathering is small.  The demographics are simple; do-gooders who have intentionally moved into the neighbourhood and those who have nowhere else they can afford to move.  About 15 of us are scattered around an open multipurpose room that is part of community centre.  On the walls are poorly constructed banners from years past.  In the air is poorly played music leads us in worship.  A blind man reads braille and tells of Jesus miraculously healing the blind.  A woman physically and mental handicapped from a car accident smiles a crooked smile and shakes a tambourine out of time.  We leave the service with no discernible change.