Understanding Christianity, Islam, and the Modern World
I was born in Montana and grew up in Colorado and Puebla (in Mexico). I completed a BA in philosophy at the University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA) and then an MA in theology at St Mary's University (also in San Antonio). Later life took me to Jordan where my wife and I studied Arabic, to Israel where I helped found a seminary, and to Scotland for doctoral work, among other places. I live in Madrid now where I teach and minister.
I'm highly interested in the interactions of Islam, Christianity and secularism in modern contexts. My main areas of research for my PhD in divinity were religious conversion from Islam to Christianity, contextual theology, and the shari'a's treatment of apostates. I've also published research on global Anglicanism and the history of Anglican mission in the Ottoman Empire.
I've had the pleasure of teaching in many places over the years: from Costa Rica to Turkey, and Kenya to Tunisia. I am at-large lecturer and researcher in Muslim-Christian relations at The Christian Institute of Islamic Studies (www.tciis.org), and deacon at the Cathedral Church of the Redeemer in Madrid, Spain.
Visit my blog (duanemiller.wordpress.com) or academia.edu page for more information or to have me speak at your church, university or seminary.
On February 18th of 2018 at the Anglican Cathedral of Madrid I was ordained as a presbyter of the Anglican Communion by the Rt. Rev. Carlos Lopez Lozano. Below is one picture, though you can find more pictures and details at the cathedral blog (though in Spanish).
Dr. Erin Bartram has written a beautiful indictment of American higher education. She has composed a post wherein she explains how she gave up trying to get that treasured tenure track position in American higher ed. She tells us of her sense of calling to be a professor, her joy in sitting on committees (commendable), and her sense of despondent letdown in never being hired to that coveted tenure track position she felt was her destiny.
It resonated with me.
I have never shared a response to someone else’s blog post here before, but here goes:
I was deeply touched by your wonderful, melancholy post. I have a PhD in Divinity from Edinburgh, which I’m not sure is elite or not. The thing is that while doing the PhD (awarded in 2014) and through now I have been continuously employed but as a minister and missionary in the Anglican Church, which means I always had a steady if humble income (probably similar to yours as an associate professor).
But I, in the tradition of Thomas Aquinas and Martin Luther, have always tried to keep one foot in the world of academia–teaching “The God Class” (think “Survey of the Christian Faith”) here, “Intro to Philosophy” and “Bible as Lit” there. Most recently my cutting edge research into the lived theology of converts from Islam to Christianity led to teaching–wait for it–“Research and Composition”.
Two years ago I was asked to consider moving to Spain to plant a church here and do some other stuff. With a wife and three young kids it was a big ask. Sharon and I prayed about it. I felt like I had to really investigate all options in higher ed before committing to such a move and so I did. I did the CVs and teaching statements (“I don’t actually know what that is.” –Pinkie Pie, My Little Pony, sorry for not using Chicago….), I did the “make a video and send it to us…” I did the interviews via Skype or what have you. I did the hours of composing a detailed custom q&a document because I had made it to “the last round”–and that while in Mexico for a wedding of a friend from middle school. Some people encouraged me, saying that my area of research (ex-Muslims) was so avant garde, who could resist? Others said that my main area of research was politically incorrect, as it implied that maybe something was lacking in Islam. Anyway, like you, nothing. Enormous amounts of time. Enormous amounts of energy.
My story is different, though, because for me that served as confirmation that God (the same one my Catholic sisters form the 19th Century were concerned with) was calling us to Spain, where we have now been for half a year. But I did feel that hurt, especially at first. Some positions I didn’t care about. But a few of them just seemed…so good. Like such a right fit. Also, I have friends from Edinburgh who, like you, felt that calling–that vocation–to be a professor, but have not been able to secure those positions. So what you wrote touched me.
I don’t know the answers either, but I do know there is something deeply flawed in higher ed in the USA today. There is something evil in telling everyone they must go to college, for it makes the BA or BS little more than the high school degree of yesteryear. There is something foolish in the proliferation of administrative positions in the American university while the number of professors remains more or less stagnant. There is some transgression in practically forcing young people to accrue large amounts of debt so that they will not be able to move out, get married, and have kids if they so wish. In sum, I do not offer any advice, but I offer compassion–a ‘suffering with’–though not to the full extent that you have suffered. It is limited. But it is real.
And here, for your enjoyment, is that most excellent Pinkie Pie quote (this is what comes from having kids…)
CH: You write: “After living in the Middle East for most of a decade, I must say that I find the public religion of Muslims (and Eastern Orthodox Christians) compelling and refreshing. Yes, sometimes it can be confrontational, but the introspective Christianity of the West with its quietism and compartmentalization strikes me as defeatist, bland, and feeble-hearted.” This relates to one of the key elements of secularism, the internalization of belief. You expanded on this in the book, but I wonder if you have seen this done in a Western context?
DM: The word introspective is from Latin and means looking inwards. The response to this is public religion, meaning an expression of religious commitment lived out in the midst of the people. I have seen baby steps towards this in America—it is easier in Europe. A church opened its grounds to local families for a movie night and it was well-attended, for instance. But that was still on the church grounds. I remember doing theology at the pub in Edinburgh with a local church. The deacon, who was quite liberal I’ll say, and I went to buy pints at the bar and this old Scotsman just saw his collar and started telling him about God. The point is he wore his collar in public, and that allowed a space for witness.
I’m in Spain and I wear my clericals several times a week because our cathedral is a very busy place. One day an old Spanish lady stopped me in the street and said, “I’m glad to see a priest wearing a collar! They used to do that all the time!” So obviously she thought I was a Roman Catholic priest, not an Anglican deacon, but it doesn’t really matter. We need to find ways of bringing the presence and reality of our religious commitment into the public world. No, we don’t need to be confrontational and abrasive—though we should realize that God may indeed call us to that sometimes. And here is me as the evangelical preacher who wants a practical application for everything: be deliberate about saying grace with your family when you eat out. Hold hands, bow your heads, make the sign of the Cross. Not to impress people. But to witness to Christ. To witness that his Church is still alive and well and it’s there at Applebee’s or Taco Cabana.
I’m happy to share with you Paul Martindale’s very positive review of Living among the Breakage: Contextual Theology-making and ex-Muslim Christians (Pickwick, 2016). Martindale teaches missions at Gordon-Conwell and the review was originally published in Evangelical Missions Quarterly. Here is a section:
There is tremendous value in reading through this work as it shows how the life within developing communities intersects with new identity formation, the process of inculturating the gospel in a new context, new power structures within the Church, conversion, and the development of new ‘liberation’ and wisdom theologies.
Drawing from specific case study interviews and a wealth of excellent missiological sources, Miller has helped to expand the field of ex-Muslim studies in constructive directions. Serious students of religious conversion and contextualization in former Muslim communities and church-planting in Islamic contexts will want to read and carefully consider this work.
He rejects the approach of the “comparative religions” school because this Enlightenment discipline believed the topic of “religion” could be neatly compartmentalized and analyzed as an almost incident subset of “real life” as defined by secular humanists. So instead of analyzing Islam and Christianity in some topical fashion, he approaches the issue by narrating how the respective faith systems understand the origin of all things (creation), anthropology, Israel, Jesus, Muhammad, life in their respective communities, their respective missions, and their understanding of the end or eschatology. By the end of the book, the reader should understand that both Islam and Christianity, far from being easily compartmentalized abstractions, are, instead comprehensive – though differing – ways of life.
Miller’s analysis is fast paced and extremely accessible for non-specialists. A glossary and a good array of footnotes adds to the value of the text. As a Christian in the historic tradition but acquainted with the breadth of world Christianity, he is able to portray the Christian story in a way that is fair to Christians whether they be “high church” or “low”. As one who has lived a significant portion of his life in Muslim majority areas such as Nazareth and who can read the Qu’ran in Arabic, he offers an even handed view of Islam as one who knows and appreciates Muslim people.
Christians wanting to understand Islam as it relates (or doesn’t) to their own faith will find this a very helpful guide. The work is not to be confused as another missive from the “can’t we all just get along crowd” because Miller does not indulge in political correctness. Nor can he be charged with “Islamophobia” because his conclusions are based on his specialist study and familiarity with his subject.
Suitable for Sunday Schools, Small Groups, individual reading or introductory class work, this book makes for a thought provoking introduction to the topic. It especially challenges Christians in the West and those who confuse the “West” with Christianity itself. Likewise those who have an interest in the contemporary Christian Mission will be challenged when the “professor” gives the church a barely passing grade on this subject.
Of particular interest is the way that Islam’s growth highlights the weakness of the West … our self destructive attitudes towards family, procreation, our naive views on virtue and vice, and the danger of the Church’s privatized faith. Indeed, Miller’s work operates as a running critique of the secular establishment and narrative itself. The complete ignorance and impotence of the thinking of the West’s political class on the topic of Muslim-Christian relations soon becomes apparent as well.
I am happy to announce that my new book, Two Stories of Everything: The Competing Metanarratives of Islam and Christianity has been published and is now available for purchase. This book represents the culmination and summary of years of experience teaching at churches and institutions of higher education on Islam and Christianity. It is written for an educated audience who is not, however, a specialist in religion or theology. Think business person, Sunday school teacher, pastor who has been out of seminary for years…
Scholars and preachers have been approaching Islam and Christianity for centuries as two religions. But what if we set that approach aside and try something new? What if we look at the stories that Islam and Christianity tell? In this book we do exactly that: we go back to the beginning of the stories—Creation—and work our way forward to humanity, Israel, the founders (Jesus and Muhammad), why they founded their communities (the Church and the Umma), what those communities are doing in the world today, and then look down the road to the end of the two stories of everything with their different accounts of the final judgment.
Approaching Islam and Christianity as two stories of everything, or metanarratives, produces fresh new insights relevant to any person – whether Christian, Muslim, or of no religion—concerned with the question of how Islam, Christianity, and modernity interact and sometimes clash with each other.
The book contains a glossary and discussion questions for each chapter, making it ideal for Sunday school classes, study groups, lower level college courses, or discussion groups. The book, published by Credo House Publishers, is available in print and for Kindle.
If you’re interested in a review copy please contact me.