Here is the second part of my blog posts responding to Dr. Smolin's article "Of Orphans and Adoption." Part 1 of my article may be found here. Dr. Smolin's article may be found here.
Fifth, Smolin notes that the Christian adoption
movement diminishes the significance of the birth family.
Smolin argues: “The
Christian adoption movement and the adoption movement more broadly, tends to
diminish the significance of natural family ties in a highly selective,
self-serving manner (32). This is an
issue I have wrestled with and will continue to consider. There are competing Biblical principles that
come into play when it comes to how to address the relationships between the
adopted child and her birth family and the adopted child and her new
family. These principles require wisdom
in rightly applying God’s Word.
Sixth, the article
suffers from a lack of direct quotations.
I
respect that Smolin has a difficult task ahead of him. I certainly do not have a handle on all the
nuances of the evangelical orphan care movement. Far too often, however, Smolin makes bold
assertions about the evangelical orphan care movement without providing direct
quotations. Furthermore, the citations
he offers do not reference specific pages but often entire chapters.
Consider
this paragraph, in which my book is cited in a footnote:
In its strongest form, proponents of the
adoption and orphan care movement perceive adoption as the essential and
primary way of understanding the Christian’s relationship to God, and hence as
essential and primary way of understanding the Christian’s relationship to God,
and hence as essential and primary to the communication and practices of the
gospel. Indeed, all scriptural passages
about the relationship of God’s people to God are read through the lens of
adoption (3).
The citation refers
the reader to pages 67-81 of my book. To
establish that we read “all scriptural passages about the relationship of God’s
people” necessitates more specific citations.
Seventh, the evangelical orphan care movement is not
monolithic.
Again, I appreciate
the difficulty of the task before him.
Smolin has done his research and captures the essential unity among the
four books cited most frequently.
However, the
movement is not as monolithic as it is presumed to be in the article. For instance, Smolin seems to implicate the
orphan care movement as a whole when he notes that Dr. Moore “emphasizes the
lack of significance, to his internationally adopted children, of their
original names, language, culture, nation, and (implicitly) family” (30). Smolin is referring to Dr. Moore’s
convictions regarding his sons’ new identity as members of his family and how
those convictions will play out in practice.
Our daughter was
born in Guatemala and, even though she is a full member of our family, I don’t
believe her adoption into our family obliterates her Guatemalan roots. We will choose to continue to celebrate her
ethnic heritage. Our family will change
as a result.
In other words, even
though I would consider myself in the same “camp” as Moore (his signature
appears twice on the diploma in my office), it doesn’t mean we are in agreement
over the right way to apply every biblical principle when it comes to adoption.
This is a minor
example but I think illustrates that making broad statements about the
“movement” can be dangerous and unfair.
Eighth, Smolin fails to interact with or understand the
nuances of my argument.
It may be unfair of
me to criticize him on this account. My
book is by far the least influential cited and, quite frankly, I was surprised
to see it included. However, because my
book was included, it would have been nice to see some of my arguments
addressed.
First, my call to
engage in orphan care ministry begins with worship. Second, the focus of my book is not an
exhortation to adopt but an exhortation to compassionate care of orphans. Third, this compassion is not based primarily
upon our adoption (though I think there are important points to glean from that
theological truth) but is based upon a passion for God and His glory.
The layout of my
chapters is instructive. The book begins
with the uniqueness of Christian orphan care.
Chapter 2 then deals with the theme of compassion, the disenfranchised
and how the orphan falls into the category of the disenfranchised. This means that my argument to care for the
orphan is rooted in an argument to
demonstrate compassion to all disenfranchised for God’s glory.
As I mentioned
before, I think Smolin cites my second chapter, but I’m not certain. If so, it is only once. It seems that he mostly focuses on chapter 4,
“A Theology of Adoption.” When he cites
it, he only refers to the page numbers, not the actual arguments. He lumps the chapter in with other theologies
of adoption that he says draw a 1-for-1 parallel between earthly and heavenly
adoption.
But I was very
careful not to do that. The chapter addresses our adoption by God the
father and makes application not to just adoption of children but how our
adoption by God impacts our entire orphan
ministry.
I believe this
failure causes Smolin to see me and others in the evangelical orphan care
movement as “foes” where there are instead potential allies in some significant
areas. For instance, he argues that the
orphan care movement’s “distorted teaching on adoption and orphan care causes
the church to minimize or pass over the primary Biblical call in relationship
to ‘widows and orphans’ and the ‘fatherless,’ leading to practices that exploit
the very persons the Bible has called Christians to assist” (5). This is key point I attempt to make in
chapter 2.
Another example of his missing a point of significant
agreement should suffice. Smolin argues
that “both Christians and secular sources promoting adoption commonly claim
that there are more than 100 million orphans in the world, a staggering figure
indicating a virtually limitless need for adoption” (3). This exaggeration has serious consequences:
Putting together the Biblical call to orphan care, the
understanding of adoption as a living representation and proclamation of the
gospel, and the nearly endless need for adoptive parents to provide homes for
well over 100 million orphans, the evangelical adoption and orphan care
movement proclaims a call for virtually all Christians to be involved in
adoption (3).
But that’s very
similar to an argument I make. Here's a quote from my book:
There are several seemingly contradictory estimates
regarding the number of orphans worldwide. The United Nations Children’s Fund
(UNICEF) estimates that there are currently over 132
million orphaned children. A few words, however, should be said about UNICEF’s
orphan estimates. UNICEF defines an orphan as “a child who has lost one or both
parents.” This would mean that a child who still has a surviving parent, or is
living with his or her grandparents or other extended relatives would still be
considered an orphan.
If one were to define an orphan as a child who has lost
both of his or her parents—a “double orphan”—UNICEF estimates that 13 million
of the 132 million orphaned children fit that definition. Of these 13 million
double orphans, a still smaller percentage are available for adoption.
The church must help their people gain an understanding
of how they can be involved in meeting the needs of all orphans, not just those who are “adoptable.”
Most of the current resources being produced by the church are focused on
adoption and not orphan care. Adoption is easier to understand than other forms
of orphan care ministry, is sometimes less messy, and the stories are often
more heartwarming.
We certainly need resources to equip the church to
engage in the ministry of adoption, but we must simultaneously realize that
orphan care ministry is far bigger than we can imagine. UNICEF is right when it
expresses concern that too narrowly defining who is an orphan may “lead to
responses that focus on providing care for individual children rather than
supporting the families and communities that care for orphans and are in need
of support.” In other words, the church needs to understand that the needs of
orphans in the world cannot simply be met by adopting children—though that is
an important component. The church must understand that there is an
overwhelming need to which Christ’s church has an opportunity to respond
(22-23).
Ninth, Smolin presents those who wish to care for
orphans with false dichotomies.
Earlier, I noted my
agreement with Smolin that the evangelical orphan care movement must reassess
its commitment to caring for families in impoverished nations. But he sometimes presents us with a false
choice: either exploit children by taking them out of the homes of poor people
or focus our efforts on humanitarian efforts within their family unit.
I believe this
cannot be an either/or scenario. There
is a real and immediate need to provide families for children who have no hope
of being reunited with their families.
At the same time, I have told parents who adopt that I believe they have
a moral responsibility to work to alleviate the conditions that caused their
children to be available to adopt. Our
family sponsors children and their families in Guatemala so that others will
not have to endure the tragedy our daughter and her birth family have had to
experience. The sponsorship is both
physical and spiritual in nature.
To be fair, Smolin
acknowledges that sometimes adoption is the best option (30), but just as he feels that
the orphan care movement fails to adequately acknowledge the need to address
systemic problems in the adoption process, I would argue he fails to adequately
focus on the positive aspects of adoption and how it is the best option for
millions of children.
Tenth, he oversimplifies the Greco-Roman first-century
adoption process.
Smolin
believes we misunderstand adoption language in Scripture and read U.S. adoption
law back into Scripture. He maintains
that our failure to understand first-century adoption leads us to theologically
erroneous conclusions. A few points to
consider.
A.
There
is evidence that the adoption process was more diverse than Smolin would have
us believe.
Smolin
contends:
This vision of adoption as central to the
church presupposes a certain form and image of adoption as both the referent to
our vertical adoption by God, and also as the kind of practice of horizontal
adoption to which Christians and the church are called. . . . [F]rom a legal perspective the Christian
adoption movement presumes the kind of adoption which exists in the United
States, which in comparative law terms is called full adoption” (4).
B.
Adoption
was a means in ancient societies to care for children in need.
Smolin
argues: “When Paul’s audience heard his references to adoption, they would have
had in their minds young adult males who became emperors, or who otherwise
moved upward in Roman society, through adoption” (15).
And
elsewhere:
For purposes of this essay, a fundamental
point is that neither Roman nor Greek adoption was focused on the adoption of
child orphans. Adoption generally had
nothing to do with providing for the weak, the poor, dependents, or
children. Adoption took young adult
males who generally had families and a position in society, and gave them a
social promotion to a higher position in society through provision of a new
legal identity… (17).
The
inclusion of the word “generally” in the second sentence is important. I would concede that adoption was not always,
or even primarily in the Roman culture, about caring for orphans in the ancient
world. I would argue, however, that (1)
adoption was more diverse that Smolin suggests (see above) and (2) there are
other ancient examples of adoption being a means to care for children in need.
For
instance, the ancient Code of Hammurabi speaks of the children of prostitutes
being cared for through adoption. It
further admonishes that adopted children need to be grateful to their adoptive
parents or their tongues should be cut off!
Eleventh, Smolin
does not adequately address the theological implications of spiritual adoption.
Smolin
may overemphasize the extent to which Paul was influenced by the Greco-Roman
background.
As
James Scott argues in his article on adoption in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters, “Paul seems to be the first to
use the term (huiothesia) in a
theological context” (16). Scott
explores the possibility of that Paul’s concept of divine adoption was
influenced by the Greco-Roman mystery religions but concludes “there is no
evidence for divine adoption in the mysteries.”
Scott
also considers the possibility of adoption as a legal metaphor, based upon
Greco-Roman law and argues that “circumstantial evidence such as Paul’s Roman
citizenship and the prevalence of Roman adoption in Paul’s day also fails to
establish the case for a legal metaphor” (16).
His
conclusion is that it is best to understand the concept of adoption from the Old
Testament/Jewish background: “Despite frequent claims to the contrary. . . the
concept of adoption—even divine adoption—was certainly known to the OT and
Judaism” (16).
The
problem with Smolin’s interpretive approach is not so much in what he does, but
in what he fails to do. When interpreting any section of Scripture, we must
take into account both how the historical and cultural setting of each
text(which Smolin does quite well) and how Scripture’s metanarrative of
redemption inform our understanding of the text of Scripture (which Smolin,
Lyall, and Burke do not do). Smolin’s failure to consider the
redemptive-historical significance of adoption is the fatal flaw in his
interpretation (2).
This
lack of attention the redemptive-historical context of adoption causes Smolin
to fail to rightly apply the doctrine of adoption. Cruver concludes:
How
should the climax of adoptive-history as told in Romans 8 inform our
understanding of James 1:27 (“visit orphans and widows in their affliction’)?
The story of the Bible is the story of God visiting us in our affliction, like
he once visited Israel (Exo. 4:31), in order to deliver us from it. So, how
should this play out with James 1:27? To visit orphans and widows in their
affliction means that we work for orphan prevention through family
reunification and preservation, and when reunification is not possible, we
actively support indigenous adoption efforts. For some children, though,
adoption becomes the way we “visit” them (5).
Twelfth, Smolin
fails to appreciate the historical progressive application of the gospel in
caring for orphans and adoption.
Smolin
needs to see the implications a changing cultural context has on how to apply
Scripture’s teaching regarding the church, the orphan and adoption. He gets close to making this argument
himself, but doesn’t quite connect all the dots.
He
notes that the lack of an orphan problem confronting the church was due to the
size of the church and the Jewish culture.
First, concerning the culture he writes: “Presumably, the reasons for
the lack of an ‘orphan’ problem in the New Testament church, was due first to
the initial Jewish setting of the New Testament church” (25).
Second,
as it relates to the size of the church and its interaction with the Roman
world:
So far as appears from the New Testament,
remedying the infanticide, abandonment, and the exposure of infants in the
wider gentile world outside of the church was not a project of the church
during the New Testament era. The tiny
size of the church during the New Testament era, its various crises of
survival, unity, and persecution, and its position of political vulnerability
and powerlessness, presumably medicated against any organized efforts to assist
the comparatively vast numbers of infants victimized by the pagan practices of
infanticide and exposure. Those efforts
would have to await another day (26).
But
we no longer live within a Jewish culture.
And the size of the church has grown.
There are children in need. Is
not adoption an appropriate application of Biblical injunctions to care for
children? Is not adoption an appropriate
application of the gospel to a culture with children who are not being cared
for? The church since its early stages
has answered both of those questions affirmatively!
In
essence, Smolin is engaged in an argument from silence. There are many social issues that individual
believers engaged in as they applied biblical principles. It is indisputable that orphans in Scripture
are cared for, sometimes through adoption by close relatives. While it is interesting, as Smolin observes,
that (1) the ethnic identity of individual orphans is sometimes maintained and
(2) families bear a special responsibility to care for the children of near
relatives, this has little bearing on the appropriateness of adoption for
dealing with the orphan crises in our cultural context.
Conclusion
This
response is far longer than I intended it to be. No doubt there will continue to be dialogue
on this important issue. I’m grateful
for Smolin’s call to call us to Scriptural fidelity. As I read Cruver’s concluding thoughts, I don’t
see an unbreachable chasm between Smolin and Cruver. It may be that God uses Smolin’s article to
ensure that the evangelical orphan care movement begins to proclaim more loudly
things that it already believes, such as the need for orphan prevention and
holistic orphan care.
