Overview of "the Definitive Treatment of Universalism"
Reviewing "The Devil's Redemption" by Michael McClymond (Part 1)
There’s quite a lot that can and should be said about this book, so it’s difficult to know where exactly to begin. It is, admittedly, an impressive attempt to comprehensively address an all-important subject; however, its flaws and failures are legion, as we will see.
Michael McClymond, professor of modern Christianity at St. Louis University, has written a two-volume “New History and Interpretation of Christian Universalism” titled The Devil’s Redemption (published by Baker, 2018). On the back cover, it is billed as “the definitive treatment of Christian universalism for years to come.”
In this multi-part review, I will be summarizing and assessing McClymond’s work in-depth, showcasing the futility of his attempts to discredit Christian universalism, yet simultaneously appreciating what he gets right and does well.
To briefly sketch out a skeletal outline of this project:
The first installment of my review—i.e., this present article—takes a bird’s eye view, evaluating McClymond’s overall project and methodology.
The second installment will more specifically address the book’s introduction and chapter 1 (“Church Teachings and Newer Views”).
The third installment will cover the parts pertaining to the early church: chapter 2 (“The Gnostic, Kabbalistic, and Esoteric Roots of Christian Universalism”), chapter 3 (“Origen and Origenism, 200–410 CE”), and chapter 4 (“Origen and Origenism, 410–1700 CE”).
The fourth installment will address the sections focused on the early modern period: chapter 5 (“The Theosophic World of Jakob Böhme and the Böhmists of Germany, England, America, France, and Russia”), and chapter 6 (“The Rise and Fall of the Anglo-American Universalists”).
The fifth installment will cover the portions of the book pertaining to German and Russian thinkers: chapter 7 (“Kant and Müller, Schleiermacher and Hegel, Schelling and Tillich”), and chapter 8 (“Solovyov, Berdyaev, Florovsky, and Bulgakov”).
The sixth installment will discuss chapter 9 (“Karl Barth, Barth’s Interpreters, Jürgen Moltmann, and the Post-1970s Kenotic-Relational Theologies”), and chapter 10 (“Karl Rahner, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and the Inclusivist, Plurocentrist, and Universalist Turns in Roman Catholicism”).
The seventh installment will focus on chapter 11 (“The Variety of Contemporary Universalisms”), especially the sections therein regarding Thomas Talbott and Robin Parry.
The eighth installment will address the concluding portion of the book: chapter 12 (“An Appraisal of Christian Universalism”), which is certainly the most interesting and important chapter.
The ninth installment will address the book’s twelve appendices: A (“Gnosis and Western Esotericism: Definitions and Lineages”), B (“Zoroastrian Eschatology”), C (“Anti-Origenist Declarations in the Early Church”), D (Ilaria Ramelli’s The Christian Doctrine of Apokatastasis), E (“The Sefiroth: A Kabbalistic Diagram”), F (“Universal Salvation in Islamic Teaching”), G (“Types of Christian Universalism”), H (“The Cosmic Saga: An Esoteric View”), I (“Ultra-Dispensational Universalism”), J (“Words and Concepts for Time and Eternity”), K (“Mormon Teachings on God, Cosmos, and Salvation”), and L (“Barth and Bultmann on Romans 5”).
A tenth installment will address McClymond’s various other publications on universalism, such as his essays, articles, and interviews pertaining to the book and the subject of universalism as a whole.
Along the way, I will be frequently quoting from various critical reviewers, most of whom are far better equipped to evaluate the content of the book than I am. These include Dr. Ilaria L.E. Ramelli (Italian Catholic Patristics scholar), Dr. Robin A. Parry (British Anglican biblical theologian), Dr. David Bentley Hart (American Orthodox theological philosopher), Dr. Thomas B. Talbott (American Protestant philosophical theologian), Dr. Benjamin B. DeVan (religious literature scholar and philosopher), Dr. Roberto J. De La Noval (theologian and Bulgakovian scholar), Dr. Mark W. Elliot (scholar from Glasgow/Toronto), Dr. Spencer Miles Boersma (theologian and scholar), Dr. David W. Congdon (theologian and Bultmannian scholar), Franklin A. Mills (theological writer), Frederick Kohn (theological writer), John Crowder (theologian and author), and Andrew Hronich (graduate theology student at Princeton), among others.
I have no intention of hiding my own leaning here. I’ll transparently state at the outset that I find Michael McClymond’s anti-universalist arguments to be largely fallacious, and his central claims entirely unconvincing. Yet I will also say that I commend McClymond for taking the time to try addressing this subject with much more thoroughness than is typical of those opposing the doctrine of universal salvation—which is why I consider his work to be worth engaging with and responding to at length.
Robin Parry begins his response by graciously saying:
Michael McClymond’s majestic two-volume work…is a landmark work in the study of Christian universalism, one of the most significant analyses and critiques of that tradition ever published. It is stunning in both the breadth and depth of its research. As such, no academic attempt to engage universal salvation in a Christian context can afford to ignore it. While I find the theological critique inadequate to the task of undermining Christian universalism per se (as I shall argue below), there is a lot in McClymond’s book, including his critiques of various specific universalist theologies, with which I concur.
Similarly, Ilaria Ramelli concludes her review by amiably stating:
I hail with comfort and satisfaction a sustained academic book of the kind that costs a long time and concentrated effort to be conceived, written, and read—the type that the current academic system and even some publishers sometimes seem to discourage nowadays.
I genuinely appreciate McClymond’s answer when asked by an interviewer, “What was the motivation and the process for investing so much of your scholarly life into [a book on] universalism?” He replied:
Isn’t this the ultimate theological question—i.e., the scope of final salvation? What could matter more? And if there is truth in the New Testament contrast between “momentary, light affliction” and the “eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17), then should not all Christian believers be deeply concerned with getting it right regarding these final outcomes?
On this—the worthwhile significance of the question at hand—I can wholeheartedly agree, while I starkly disagree on the answer thereto.
The remainder of this review will cover the following interrelated aspects of the book:
Voluminousness
Author’s Qualifications
Polemical Bias
Question-Begging & Presuppositions
Genetic Fallacy & Well-Poisoning
Guilt by Association
Red Herrings & Irrelevancies
Slippery Slope Argumentation
Misrepresentation & Mishandling of Sources
False Dichotomies
Atheistic Argumentation
Selection Bias & Notable Omissions
This will be followed by a brief summary and conclusion.
Without further adieu…
Voluminousness
One of the most obvious and noteworthy features of the book (which favorable reviewers are usually quick to point out) is that the book is very lengthy. For instance, Justin Taylor of The Gospel Coalition remarks:
A massive achievement. [The] book runs to 540,000 words, covers 1,376 pages, and cites around 2,500 sources (in Greek, Latin, French, German, and English). The bibliography alone runs to 90 pages in small print and double columns.
McClymond himself even repeatedly boasts of his own voluminousness:
My work runs to 1,325 pages, cites more than 3,000 sources, and contains some 3,500 footnotes […] my two-volume, 540,000 word book…a task of this magnitude.
It seems that McClymond and his allies are in danger of falling into the fallacy known as ‘argument from verbosity,’ forgetting that quantity of literary output does not necessarily indicate quality of scholarship. Undoubtedly, the work is impressive in its sheer breadth of coverage, but, as I will show, it lacks meaningful depth in a number of ways. Simply put, throughout the book, McClymond apparently prioritized quantity over quality, and breadth over depth.
Thomas Talbott writes:
McClymond illustrates the danger, as I see it, of trying to cover way too much ground way too quickly. His entire work of over 1,300 pages is a monumental piece of historical scholarship, at least in terms of its breadth of coverage; one would be hard pressed, indeed, to identify a single name or topic relevant to the history of Christian universalism that escapes his attention altogether. But in some cases at least, his incredible breadth of coverage also comes at the expense of a careful presentation and evaluation of arguments, of any real depth, and even of simple accuracy. […] Although 1300 pages may seem like a huge volume of work—as indeed it is—it does not provide nearly enough space for an advocate to deal accurately and thoroughly with more than a few of those persons whose ideas he seeks to discredit in one way or another. So he seems to have adopted a strategy of picking out a quotation here and there that fits a preconceived narrative and of objecting to some conclusion without any regard for the arguments offered in support of it. The result is an unfortunate superficiality in what could have been a serious and important piece of scholarship.
Likewise, David Bentley Hart explains:
It is a feat of stupendous energy, admittedly; but energy and capacity are not the same thing. […] The more preposterous a conspiracy theory is, the more elaborate and tortured the argument it requires; the very absence of any real corroboration makes it inevitable that any attempt to prove its veracity will consist in nothing but the frantic accumulation of every hint of a shadow of an echo of evidence, however illusory. Precisely because it is obviously false, its “demonstration” is potentially infinite. And this, I think, accounts for the sheer staggering size—1349 pages of small type, distributed across two heavy volumes—of McClymond’s book.
Author’s Qualifications
Before proceeding any further, it’s important to briefly ask: Who is Michael McClymond? Why should we value or trust any of what he has to say on this topic? What are his academic credentials? Is he qualified to the task on which he sets himself?
Although, needless to say, a work cannot be entirely dismissed or accepted merely on the basis of its author’s credentials or lack thereof (lest the ad-hominem fallacy be committed), it is nonetheless pertinent to ask a few questions of a source’s credibility and training, especially when the work in question is billed as ‘scholarship.’
David Bentley Hart does not mince words in expressing concerns along these lines in his review of McClymond’s tome:
McClymond is a historian of American Christianity, and a fairly decent one I imagine. But at some point he got it into his head that this rather narrow range of expertise had prepared him to undertake a task that required training and skills in classical languages and history, late antique metaphysics and culture, patristics, Church history, theology, and philosophy that he most definitely does not possess. And the result has been a disaster: an immense book that is clearly a labor of love, or at least of passion, but that no competent specialist would mistake for a work of serious scholarship. […] The most conspicuous problem with the book is that McClymond simply does not know enough about much of anything that he talks about in its pages. He obviously has next to no grasp of late Graeco-Roman antiquity, or of classical culture, language, philosophy, and religion. Neither, clearly, is he a New Testament scholar. And, without such knowledge, he is entirely unprepared for the task he has set himself. Moreover, he seems to have a very poor sense of where to go in the available literature for help.
These criticisms are especially interesting in light of the fact that Hart knows Michael McClymond personally, as they were at one point colleagues on the same faculty. Hart goes on to add:
Maybe a bit harsh on my part. And a bit quick and dismissive and vexed, as well. But sometimes the provocation justifies the vehemence. […] I learned fairly early on—through our conversations and exchanges of emails about the project that became The Devil’s Redemption—that McClymond simply lacks the training and the skills that a competent scholar would have needed to pursue the work he envisaged. But some kind of deep conceitedness prevents him from having any sense of his limitations. He does not even have the basic linguistic knowledge that would be required as the most minimal preparation for such a work. He also can neither follow nor form a coherent philosophical argument; in fact, he has perhaps the poorest philosophical capacity I have ever encountered in any academic colleague; but he seems to think he’s quite a crack logician (God help us). He was trained, if I recall, as a chemist, and then switched to American Religious History (an honorable but largely philosophically undemanding field). To have launched himself into debates on topics better left in the hands of New Testament scholars, classicists, scholars of late antiquity and the Middle Ages, scholars of Judaism, experts in systematic and philosophical theology, philosophers as such, and so forth, was a remarkably foolish thing to do.
As for McClymond’s claims regarding his own qualifications, he has described himself simply as a “professor of modern Christianity,” which happens to be precisely his official title according to the Saint Louis University faculty page. The university website also indicates that he holds a doctorate degree in theology from the University of Chicago (1992) after beginning his academic pursuits with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry at Northwestern University (1980). According to this same faculty profile page, his primary research interests are “modern Christian theology and modern religious thought (1700-2000)” with a special focus on “evangelicalism and the global Pentecostal-Charismatic movement.”
For the most part, this seems to confirm Hart’s description of McClymond as “a historian of American Christianity” who “was trained as a chemist and then switched to American Religious History.” The “American” focus is seen in that McClymond has published more on Jonathan Edwards than on any other figure.
Notably, McClymond admits in the acknowledgments section of The Devil’s Redemption that he is a “nonspecialist” in the study of early Christianity and patristic literature (adding that some “goofs and gaffes” most likely “remain” in these portions of the text); and he also cedes that some of the areas he tries to cover (such as Islamic thought) were “unfamiliar field[s]” to him. Certainly McClymond’s honesty and humility here is commendable, yet this remains somewhat concerning as it pertains to his credibility as a scholar writing on these subjects.
The work of a “scholar,” properly speaking, can only be described as “scholarship” when he is focused on his particular area of expertise. Outside of this, his work ought to be functionally considered as that of an untrained layman. Again, this is not to say that an untrained laymen can have nothing meaningful to say, but simply that one should not confuse such a person’s work in these fields as “scholarship.”
Nonetheless, in what follows, we will assess McClymond’s work on the basis of its own merit or lack thereof, setting aside these concerns about McClymond’s own status as one possibly unequipped or unqualified to speak authoritatively on these matters. If McClymond’s lack of proper training in various areas affects the quality of the work, it will show up in those portions of the book, and we will address them as we come across them, judging the content on its own merit.
Polemical Bias
At the outset, it’s foundationally important to clarify what McClymond’s work is, and what it is not. This is somewhat difficult, however, since it isn’t immediately clear whether he is simply trying to provide an objective and unbiased work of historical-theological scholarship, or if he is attempting instead to discredit universalism by crafting a historical-theological case against its validity. At points, he purports to be doing the former (simply “following where the evidence leads”); however, at other points throughout the book, it becomes conspicuous that his project is chiefly the latter (a polemically driven “critique of universalism”). Hence, the veneer of dispassionate scholarly objectivity proves to be just that: a surface-level facade. McClymond’s thinly-veiled bias against universalism—the chip on his shoulder, so to speak—is undeniably a key motivating factor in his work on this subject.
Kohn explains:
McClymond’s book purports to be a history and new interpretation of universalism. This, I think, is disingenuous. It is, rather, a theological critique of universalism masquerading as a history book.
Likewise, Talbott notes:
McClymond does not write merely as a historian who seeks to describe factually and objectively both sides of the various issues and arguments that have arisen in this history. He also writes as an advocate for a traditional understanding of hell, and that seems to skew everything he does.
And De La Noval remarks:
He is anxious not simply to document the ebb and flow of universalist beliefs during the last two millennia but also to make the case over nearly 1400 pages that universalism is, at its core, a heterodoxy, one with the potential to sink the entire ship of faith.
Now, to be fair, McClymond’s obvious and passionate bias in this regard does not, in and of itself, disprove or discredit his claims and arguments. It does, however, showcase a noteworthy element of both dishonesty and hypocrisy—dishonesty in that he often feigns unprejudiced objectivity; and hypocrisy in that he accuses scholars such as Ilaria Ramelli of having a bias in favor of universalism, and attempts to dismiss their work on this basis. Additionally, McClymond’s bias does partly account for why many of the claims and arguments he resorts to are quite vacuous and even incoherent.
Question-Begging & Presuppositions
Related to McClymond’s aforementioned bias is his tendency to fallaciously ‘beg the question’ on various points; taking for granted certain theological, hermeneutical, and philosophical presuppositions in line with his specific tradition’s premises, apparently without much of any self-awareness. Put another way, McClymond appears to uncritically presume that a particular set of reformed evangelical doctrines and interpretations are definitional of biblical orthodoxy. This is sometimes referred to as the ‘snuck premise’ fallacy. As De La Noval notes:
In reading Devil’s Redemption, one occasionally gets the impression that there is a plain, commonsense reading of Scripture that would deliver up a simple narrative of salvation history. But…any rendering of the biblical narrative is necessarily an interpretation. McClymond’s interpretation of the Christian story is a particularly Reformed one, and thus it precludes a great many convictions held not just by universalists but by most Christians throughout history.
Likewise (yet more bluntly), Hart explains:
Everything is distorted by McClymond’s ridiculously parochial assumption that the version of Reformed Christianity to which he adheres—a simplified Evangelical distillate of the teachings of a sixteenth-century sect, whose view of scripture would have been unintelligible to those who wrote it—is true, authentic, pure Christianity, self-evidently correct and faithful to God’s revelation. Aspects of Christian thought that have belonged to the tradition from antiquity, and that can be drawn from scripture much more surely than the sort of Reformed dogmatics he presumes, he treats as alien and heretical corruptions. […] Michael has a very parochial notion of orthodoxy. In point of fact, in that book you’ll find plenty of things that are mainstays of orthodox tradition rejected because the author comes from a very parochial, reformed tradition, and he knows very little about the fullness of Christian tradition. So he thinks all talk of a ‘divine spark’ in human beings is immediately heretical. ‘Divine spark,’ ‘divine breath,’ ‘divine image’—who cares what you call it—it’s anything but heretical. It’s one of the foundations of Christian orthodoxy: that human beings already have the divine presence in them in some way or another.
Another reviewer (Corey, via Goodreads) comments:
[McClymond] proves to be about as uncharitable reader as I’ve ever read. It’s just…begging the question on repeat. The game is all about presuppositions here. He will mention some of the presuppositions of these thinkers, then their argument, and then critiques their conclusions according to McClymond’s own presuppositions. He doesn’t critique their presuppositions or question why they go the route they do to get to their conclusions and show why his are more sound.
This notable pattern is observable throughout the book. And McClymond seems blissfully unaware of the fact that his own perspective (which, as just mentioned above, he assumes throughout the book as the standard by which all other views are to be judged) is vulnerable to many of the same objections he levels at universalist theologies, as we will see in subsequent installments.
Genetic Fallacy & Well-Poisoning
When reading the book, one quickly notices that McClymond seems to have somewhat of an obsession with “origins” and “roots.” To sample a number of examples that illustrate this focus, see the following (and especially the bolded words):
Universal salvation (or universalism) seems to have first emerged as a distinct religious doctrine among Christian gnostic teachers […] As I worked on the present book, the why question shifted into a where question, to wit: Where then did the idea of one final state—that is, heaven for everyone—come from? […] ancient gnostic universalism as a precedent for modern Christian universalism […] universalist teaching is rooted in an ongoing gnostic-kabbalistic-esoteric tradition that stretches from the early second century to the Middle Ages, into the early modern period, and up to the present time. My search for the root of Christian universalism required some textual detective work and led ultimately toward two destinations: second-century Alexandria, Egypt, and late seventeenth-century Germany and England. […] there were universalists before Origen […] The argument in this book centers on Christianity, and yet the general thesis regarding the gnostic-esoteric roots of Christian universalism finds support from a consideration of the two other Abrahamic traditions—namely, Judaism and Islam. […] The modern origins of Christian universalism lie in the remarkable though lesser-known figure Jakob Böhme. […] The reference to universal salvation in this [gnostic] text…may be the first unambiguous instance of the teaching of universal salvation. […] Gnosticism…gave rise for the first time to the teaching on universal salvation. […] The clearest precedents for Origen’s universalist teaching appeared among second-century thinkers (e.g., Basilideans, Valentinians, Carpocratians) generally labeled as gnostics. Because of these second-century forerunners who flourished before Origen, it would not be accurate to say that Origen invented Christian universalism. […] the modern resurgence of universalism, with its roots in the religious thought of Jakob Böhme.
This repetitive emphasis on origins gives reason to legitimately suspect that McClymond is, as Talbott suggests, “in danger of falling foul of the genetic fallacy.”
Interestingly, McClymond tries to bring this same accusation against universalists at one point in the book, alleging that they are committing “the genetic fallacy—that is, attempting to dismiss [eternal hell] by giving an unfavorable account of its origins.” Yet this is a nearly perfect description of what McClymond appears to be doing in much of the book: “attempting to dismiss [universalism] by giving an unfavorable account of its origins.” From this and other instances, it becomes apparent that McClymond lacks self-awareness to quite a significant degree, and also apparently lacks the ability or willingness to accept correction or even to meaningfully take responses into account.
Now, to be fair, McClymond does later admit (after being pressed on this point) that “the gnostic affiliation does not in itself imply the truth or falsity of universalism.” However, given the way he frequently fixates on this notion, and seemingly insinuates that universalism is thus innately heterodox, one could not be blamed for thinking this is what he was trying to suggest.
Parry remarks:
Some of McClymond’s arguments do teeter on the edge of this fallacy, but within the overall context of the book the attempt to expose the allegedly dubious origins of universalism function as part of a cumulative case, standing alongside other arguments that seek to engage the theological case directly. So I do not think McClymond guilty of the genetic fallacy even though there were times when I was reading the book that I felt he was on the brink.
More broadly, McClymond resorts to what might be called a ‘well-poisoning’ pattern of argument, that consists roughly of the following:
Suggesting that a given source (such as Gnosticism, Böhme, Hegel, etc.) was the ‘well’ from which later universalists drew their theology.
Insinuating that this ‘well’ was doctrinally ‘poisoned’ and theologically problematic (i.e., heterodox and unbiblical).
Reluctantly admitting that this source was not itself clearly universalistic.
Neglecting to show any inextricable logical connection between the ostensibly heterodox source and the doctrine that all will be saved.
This last part is especially significant, and to give McClymond the benefit of the doubt, I have carefully looked for any attempts he makes to show some sort of logical tie between the ostensibly problematic premises and universalistic conclusions, but such logical ties are rarely sufficiently established by McClymond.
Attentive readers will notice that, while attempting to show influence and association between universalists and heterodox notions/sources, McClymond fails to show that such are inextricably tied to one another on the level of logical necessity. For instance, he is not able to show that gnosticism is necessarily universalistic, nor that universalism is necessarily gnostic, even if he can show that some gnostics may have been universalists, and that some universalists may have adopted various gnostic premises. The connections he shows are almost entirely peripheral or contingent, and thus are rightly designated as red herrings (i.e., distractions or irrelevancies, on which see below).
An online commenter (@Hopafoot), sums it up quite well by stating, “McClymond is particularly funny…since he just makes up a definition for universalism that somehow ties it to Gnosticism, and then dunks on Gnosticism.”
Additionally, in trying to “uncover” what he calls “genealogical connections,” McClymond can’t help but admit that he is resorting to speculation and is relying on disputable inferences: “It is not possible to spell out all the lines or directions of influence” (0.2), and again, “it is not always possible to demonstrate the lines of influence through the centuries” (2.12).
Thus, McClymond exhibits an apparent eagerness to speculatively identify what he thinks universalists’ ‘true’ underlying motivations and influences are, while apparently lacking the ability or willingness to closely follow their actual arguments and take their word for their actual influences (i.e., the biblical scriptures, first and foremost).
Hart explains:
There is, you see, no mystery here to be solved. We know why all of the most important universalist thinkers believed what they believed, and it has nothing to do with extrinsic influences. Origen, Didymus the Blind, Gregory of Nyssa, Isaac of Nineveh, Evagrius of Pontus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, Diodore of Tarsus, and so on, right up to George MacDonald, Paul Evdokimov, Sergei Bulgakov, and all the rest explained themselves quite fully, and so there is no need of some absurd conspiracy narrative. All of them, before all else, were simply following the story they thought they found laid out in scripture. Those of them who were able (as, again, McClymond clearly is not) to read the Bible with a real knowledge of its language and the conceptual world in which it took shape were simply certain that universalism was its final word.
Guilt by Association
Related to the above discussion of ‘well-poisoning,’ is McC’s apparent tendency to assign doctrinal ‘guilt’ to universalism by alleged association with ostensibly heterodox figures and ideas. Along these lines, David Bentley Hart has described McClymond’s book as “a rather squalid attempt at assigning guilt through association,” elsewhere adding, “all that Michael is trying to do is associate universalism with things that make people scared: like ‘gnosticism,’ ‘hermeticism,’ whatever.” Hart’s seemingly harsh criticisms here seem to hold up as accurate upon closer inspection. As Benjamin DeVan elaborates in his review:
A[nother] concern is McClymond’s indicting Universalism with unsavory associations. Further analysis can explore if or to what degree McClymond succumbs to genetic fallacies, but constant throughout The Devil’s Redemption are unflattering portrayals of Universalists and linked figures who displayed dubious character or quirky notions that McClymond’s audience will receive as absurd, anachronistic, or worthy of ridicule or condemnation. These are at times understated or nuanced, but the implication is that Universalists are disreputable cranks whose feverish delusions must be treated as such. They are “permeated with the paranormal” (23), championed “polygamy…and held that God had separately created the black and white races” (91), consorted with deluded women and Hindu seers professed to be hundreds of years old (178, 216, 564, 904, 911), inspired political and Soviet Marxism (270, 700), and may have engaged in the kind of ritualistic sex practices made notorious by The Da Vinci Code (233). Moreover, Origen is described as implying that “destruction” really means “salvation” (262) and Russian Universalists are said to have shown affinities with freemasonry (426). Böhme was evidently anti-sexual and anti-female, while some of his followers idealized women and were hyper-sexual (451, 472, 475). Barth delivered anti-Jewish lectures in the Nazi era and equated Judas with John and Peter (775-779). Moltmann is apparently a tritheist, promoting a theology of three gods rather than a three-in-one Trinity (826). To modify Patriarch Timothy’s more diplomatic description of the Muslim prophet Mohammad, to be a Universalist for McClymond is to walk in the path of heresy and to track in distortions of God. The Devil’s Redemption insinuates that to be a Universalist is to lack integrity, to court and stimulate spiritual malignancies, or all three.
Red Herrings & Irrelevancies
As David Bentley Hart memorably remarks, “McClymond’s book is—at its best—an ocean of red herrings.” This also apparently proves true upon inspection, in that much of the content in McClymond’s book has little to no direct relevance to universalism and its truth value, as he often gets sidetracked in rabbit-holes.
For instance, McClymond refers to “Marxism,” “communism,” “socialism,” and related terms a total of no less than 98 times throughout the book. One must ask: What direct relevance does Marxism have to the truth value of Christian universalism? The answer is: none. The fact that McClymond discusses it so often in a book about universal salvation illustrates quite clearly his tendency to focus on red herrings.
And even when staying within theological areas, McClymond often diverts the discussion to doctrinal concepts that are only peripherally (if at all) related to the doctrine of universal salvation. For instance, he discusses primal/intra-divine dramas and kenoticism at length in his chapter titled “an appraisal of universalism,” and after a thorough examining of this discussion, Parry concludes:
I can see no obvious connections between drama-within-God theologies and universal salvation. Neither implies the other… As far as I am concerned, this whole discussion, while interesting and important, has no direct bearing on whether the claim that God will save all people is theologically problematic. Likewise, McClymond discusses at some length the problems of kenotic Christology, but I am not sure why. There are some universalists who have embraced kenotic Christology, but the connection is entirely contingent. Most universalists, historically speaking, have not defended it. So how is this supposed to be relevant to the general question of universalism? Indeed, most defenders of kenotic Christology are not universalists, so I remain unclear why this view is even brought up in relation to alleged weaknesses of final restoration.
An online commenter (@Chubbs_Tarbell) succinctly notes that McClymond tries to portray universalism as “a persistent historical heresy first associated with some of the early gnostic groups…and other psuedo-universalist figures like Jacob Böhme that have absolutely nothing to do with, say, Gregory Nyssen or Isaac of Nineveh’s lines of thought.”
Slippery Slope Argumentation
McClymond commits yet another fallacy when he repeatedly resorts to ‘slippery slope’ arguments, conflating supposed correlation with direct causation, and improperly extrapolating inevitable effects. For instance, he writes:
The doctrine of universal salvation, though initially appealing to many people, may be a game-ending move that ends up undoing other doctrines such as the doctrine of the atonement and perhaps also the doctrine of Jesus’s divinity. The American Universalists of the nineteenth century first gave up the notion of Christ’s atonement and then ultimately set aside Jesus’s divinity and became Unitarians. Among British universalists, this process occurred even more rapidly than in the United States.
As should be clear to any thoughtful reader, the contingent historical fact that some universalists in the nineteenth century “gave up the notion of Christ’s atonement and then ultimately set aside Jesus’s divinity,” is insufficient to substantiate McClymond’s insinuation that universalism somehow necessarily entails or requires these moves. Parry explains:
None of this gradual transformation within the Universalist denomination was a direct implication of universal salvation. The chess analogy is entirely inappropriate unless one can show precisely how that doctrine leads to the abandonment of doctrines x, y, and z. But I have been unable to find any persuasive arguments in McClymond’s book that show how the doctrine of salvation for all has implications that lead to the abandonment of any of the other doctrines he thinks are at risk.
Misrepresentation & Mishandling of Sources
McClymond frequently resorts to the strawman fallacy, misrepresenting (or misunderstanding) the thought of the writers he tries to cover, especially figures such as Sergius Bulgakov and Thomas Talbott. For instance, he ignores nearly all of Talbott’s and Parry’s biblical arguments, and opts instead to superficially dismiss their claims and attribute to them certain claims they never in fact made nor implied (like the obnoxiously caricatured idea that “God employs the postmortem equivalent of waterboarding or electroshock, at ever-increasing levels of intensity, until the poor sufferer finally ‘cries uncle’ and surrenders to God’s demand to be recognized”).
De La Noval writes:
If McClymond’s opposition to universalism grants him a certain perspicacity in discerning the weak points in universalist theologies, it also renders him occasionally uncharitable towards others whose universalist thought requires more careful analysis. This critique unfortunately applies to his treatment of Bulgakov: he is consistently misrepresented, from his eschatology to his Christology, from his Trinitarian theology to the complexities of his understanding of the analogical relationship between divine nature and created reality.
It’s especially interesting to note how those living theologians discussed in the book have responded. Nearly all of them observe the same pattern. For instance, much like Talbott, Congdon (to whom McClymond devotes a full 15-page section in the book) explains:
A consistent issue is that McClymond flattens my work by trying to fit it into his own categories: objective/subjective, universal/particular, gnostic/incarnational, etc. These kinds of crude dichotomies form the reductionistic lens by which he (mis)analyzes everything. Because my entire project is about breaking out of these binaries, McClymond simply has no idea what to do with it or how to read it. He opts instead to throw out his usual heresy buzzwords and hopes that something will stick.
Likewise Crowder (discussed by McClymond in a 17-page section) observes:
His new book totally mischaracterized what I believe. Furthermore it just devolved into him throwing the kitchen sink of any accusation at me and my dear friends: We’re Kabbalists, Gnostics, antinomians, quietists, etc. (…yawn). He was trying to fit me into his narrative.
In a way, these living theologians are also speaking on behalf of those mishandled by McClymond who have passed away and can’t now speak for themselves. It seems clear many of them would say essentially the same.
Hart states:
No putatively academic book in my recollection has struck me as so offensive a collection of malicious misrepresentations, sinister suppositions, paranoid accusations, and willful distortions.
False Dichotomies
As Congdon alluded to above, McClymond often sets up oversimplified ‘either/or’ dichotomies. Mills notes, “Throughout The Devil’s Redemption McClymond raises false dichotomies and juxtapositions.” And DeVan, more thoroughly explains:
In terms of argument, McClymond records recurring false dichotomies. Some of these are expressed by Universalists, while McClymond endorses or quotes others favorably. Examples are contrasting hope for individuals against hope for humanity as a whole (e.g., 24, 1066), hell or purgatory as either punishment or rehabilitating (e.g., 372, 1048), humanity as sinful versus ignorant (91, 804), the idea that everyone is created God’s child rather than becoming God’s child through Jesus (93, 152), stating that God is not to be trusted if he does not carry through on threats (50, 78, 420, 914), challenging worship of God as unnamable versus infinitely nameable (341, 479), and separating questions about why evil persists with whether evil will pass away (438). McClymond juxtaposes “God who is” with Barth’s “God who is for us” (28, 808), and sets assorted understandings of Christ’s atonement against each other (521, 522, 841, 849, 908). Each is easily harmonized from various perspectives. Hope that each individual will be saved by Jesus is by definition part of hope that Jesus will save all creatures. Hope for each is hope for all. Hell or Purgatory could conceptually involve both punishment and corrective discipline. Humanity suffers from both sin and ignorance. All people can be God’s children in one sense and confirm this identity in Christ in another. Why evil exists at all and whether it will come to an end are interwoven inquiries. God can threaten punishment and incorporate mercy into wrath. People can refer to God with many names even if God is not comprehensively defined by any name. God who is, is no less God in being God who is for us. Multiple atonement theories may illumine each other like a kaleidoscope instead of thwarting each other.
Atheistic Argumentation
In various online publications, McClymond has repeatedly accused David Bentley Hart of arguing like an atheist when advancing his case for universalism: “Hart’s book reads mostly like a ‘new atheist’ book by Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens.” “That All Shall Be Saved could…be read as a ‘new atheist’ argument.” “Hart now sounds very much like Richard Dawkins.” Setting aside the question of whether this critique of Hart is at all accurate or damning if true, it is at the very least ironic in that it is yet another instance of McClymond’s hypocrisy.
Throughout The Devil’s Redemption, McClymond resorts to objections and argumentation against Christian universalism that is often used by atheists and secularists against all Christian faith, or against religious devotion in general. DeVan explains:
This reviewer was struck by the resemblance of McClymond’s arguments against Universalism to atheist quarrels with religion generally. The juicy morsels above recall anti-theist fulminations against religious beliefs by broadcasting the real and imagined flaws of their proponents. McClymond per Marx frames Universalism as “the opiate of the theologians” (1034). One might cheekily add, “And the sigh of the oppressed preacher.” McClymond adapts Freud to diagnose Universalism as wishful thinking (925, 928, 1012, 1064–1065). McClymond also plays Universalists against each other, just as Richard Dawkins does in pronouncing divergent religious claims as mutually refuting. Both state that the bewildering diversity results in incoherent, contradictory wreckage (605, 667, 696, 996, 1001, 1029). These modes of argument are unconvincing. All theologies and philosophies are articulated by imperfect exemplars. It is not evident that Universalism as such leads to the purportedly bad behavior or eccentricities that some Universalists espouse. McClymond nevertheless highlights some troubling manifestations of Universalism, pitfalls that Universalists are wise to avoid. Universalism like any religion may function as an opiate, but not necessarily. To adjust Freud, whether someone desires something to be true is independent from whether what is desired will come true. Countless disciplines and traditions have internal and external diversity without insisting that all are therefore erroneous. Disagreement does not mean that all disputing parties are wrong or that the persistence of disagreement somehow refutes every view involved.
Selection Bias & Notable Omissions
Further hypocrisy is seen in that, despite accusing others such as Ramelli of exhibiting selection bias, McClymond himself is demonstrably guilty of precisely this error, selectively cherry-picking who to discuss at length and who to brush past or ignore, in order to craft his questionable narrative. As Mills observes:
The Devil’s Redemption: A New Interpretation and History of Christian Universalism is not as extensive as the title implies. […] Glossing over is interestingly something that he accuses Ilaria Ramelli of doing when she attempts to show otherwise (1101). I find it odd that even though McClymond laments the lack of use of scripture in a literal sense by Christian Universalists, William Barclay rates only a brief mention, and then in a list. I would like to ask McClymond about his take on Barclay’s New Testament Commentary.
To further illustrate McClymond’s selection bias, it’s interesting to note that, in this 1300-page work, he devotes less than a dozen pages to Clement of Alexandria and to Gregory of Nyssa (two of the most significant universalists in church history). McClymond also almost entirely neglects to discuss the presence of universalism among the other Cappadocian fathers, as well as the universalism of those in Antioch, not to mention that of Athanasius, and others. Meanwhile, he refers to Jakob Böhme (who wasn’t even a universalist) 1214 times on hundreds of pages throughout the book.
This strange pattern of selectiveness is likely rooted in the fact that, as noted above, McClymond is apparently eager to craft a narrative in which universalism is portrayed as being sourced from and found in the writings of mostly heterodox figures. What results is a distorted and misleading picture.
Also conspicuously missing from McClymond’s work is any in-depth discussion of the 543 anathemas and 553 council, which would certainly be at least somewhat relevant to the topic. And yet another curious omission is any thorough treatment of the book’s namesake: the question of Satan’s salvation.
Additionally, Parry notes:
Indeed, one of the interesting omissions from the book is any significant discussion of the many criticisms leveled against traditional hell. The criticisms are noted, but never responded to, save to argue that they arise from a priori reasoning and claim to know more about God than we can know. So the readers are left wondering how God can be love if eternal hell is real, how God can be an undivided unity if his love and justice pull in opposite directions, how the atonement for all works if many for whom Christ died are never saved, how suffering on the scale we see it can be compatible with the omnipotent, omnibenevolent God if things are only going to get worse on that score, for infinity, how Christ will ever be victorious if many of his purposes are forever thwarted. McClymond does briefly argue in favor of retributive justice, to render traditional hell more plausible. But there is a long way to go from retributive justice to hell for retributive justice is also one of the key problems with hell (for how can an infinite punishment be a proportionate retribution for a finite sin?). McClymond does not even attempt to deal with these concerns, and I imagine that this is because his book was a critique of universalism not a defense of traditionalism. I appreciate that. But the problems are as much a thorn in the side of traditional hell as they ever were. Until they are satisfactorily dealt with universalism will always hold appeal.
Despite his voluminous attempt, McClymond fails to achieve a truly comprehensive or exhaustive treatment of this subject, as he often gets sidetracked in the discussion of red herrings and peripheral elements, while neglecting to adequately cover some of the most centrally pertinent aspects of the topic.
Summary and Conclusion
To summarize, Michael McClymond’s two-volume diatribe against universalism, though not without its merits, is deeply flawed in many notable ways, including:
Its focus upon peripheral doctrinal and historical matters not at all central to the core of Christian universalism in its basic form.
Its repeated use of fallacious and inadequate arguments such as some which employ the genetic fallacy, guilt by association, and other dubious lines of reasoning.
Its nearly-circular reiteration of ostensibly-‘traditional’ assumptions as taken-for-granted premises from which to argue.
Its conspicuous prejudice against universalism—a negative bias which clearly warps the author’s judgment throughout, and thwarts the vain attempt at an appearance of objectivity.
Its frequent failure to properly represent the theologians and views critiqued therein, and its manifestly shabby handling of both primary and secondary sources.
These and the other methodological concerns surveyed above represent only a sampling of the many notable problems with the book. And, as you may have noticed, there is a great deal of overlap and repetition in my review already (as there will continue to be), which is inevitable in light of the fact that McClymond repeatedly resorts to the same interrelated errors and fallacious arguments throughout.
In the next installments, we will discuss in more specificity the book’s claims and arguments, beginning with those found in the introduction and first chapter.