Is it possible to boil theology down to a single basic concept? If I were to blow up everything that I think that I understand about God and sift through the wreckage, what would be the single indestructible diamond of truth that would remain intact? Maybe the construction of the previous questions provides a clue. It is impossible to think theologically without resorting to metaphor. All that we, as human beings, can do is try to use concepts that we know to explain concepts that we cannot possibly know. So, the beginning of theology must be a confession of human limitation, if not absolute powerlessness.
Again, I am confronted by the underlying assumptions of the Christian tradition and its interpretation of sacred texts. Augustine's conversion happened when he realized his utter powerlessness and found hope in his reading of the apostle Paul's approach to the doctrine of grace. His influence can be traced through other towering theologians such as Luther, Calvin, Barth, and many others. Theologians of many different stripes, especially in the American context, often sense a difficult uphill climb against a firmly entrenched Calvinistic notion of utter human depravity. This is where much of my theological wrestling takes place, somewhere on the spectrum of human limitation, but not quite on the extreme end of depravity.
Exactly where we place our understanding of human limitation can be problematic. Utter depravity, or even a less hard lined understanding of powerlessness, can be a very damaging ideology, especially for people who are already marginalized. It can also blind those of us who are privileged to the advantages that we have, what we might be able to accomplish because of them, and how they might be taking a toll on the disadvantaged. Denying human limitation altogether can also be problematic because it results in the kind of self worship that completely blinds us to the suffering of our neighbors, or causes us to blame those who suffer for their suffering.
It is interesting how quickly theology can become a conversation about ethical complexities. The shema of Judeo-Christian theology, "love God and love neighbor" almost seems intuitive. When we talk about God, we talk about something greater than ourselves toward which we strive. This is an intensely ethical pursuit in which human limitation cannot help but be apparent. Faith is ultimately how we deal with human limitation and the trauma that it so often causes. It is my belief that God, revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, is a tremendously powerful resource in approaching the many issues that result from human limitation, ethical or otherwise.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
A frustrating point of being stuck
Sometimes theology feels more like sculpting than building. At the beginning, there may be a rough image of what the finished product will look like, but there is trial and error along the way until something beautiful emerges. I started with a broken metaphor and tried to make it work, even though I knew that there is no adequate place from which to launch a ground-up theology. Maybe I am just not a disciplined enough systematic thinker to really take on such a task, or maybe it is just not a compelling way to approach the broad topic of writing about God. There is a paradox at every turn and every theological statement is a profound mystery, especially when the prime reference point, the at once fully human and fully divine Jesus Christ, is so befuddling.
Do we really need a three-fold God; at once filled, emptied, and out-poured? Has the modern/postmodern world made such philosophical mysticism obsolete? Maybe no one cares for complex speculations about abstract concepts. They do not put food on the table and do not directly impact our lives. We want concrete and certain truth. If it does not fit into our personal construction of reality, we either take it on faith to be true or reject it out of hand, there is no middle ground, no room for mystery, no patience for paradox. How can these things possibly be compelling when we are all so distracted by survival or fulfilling our insatiable appetites? I believe that God speaks to this condition. I believe that God calls us to something more than survival and consumption. I believe that how we think about and talk about God is important if we are to find true meaning in life.
I know that this is a rant stemming from my own personal frustration. I am in good company with Qoheleth, the author of Ecclesiastes, who saw the pointlessness in all things. This is where I am stuck right now, on Jesus Christ, kenosis, and the Trinity. These are important persons and concepts to me and my faith. There is not room in all the world for all the books that could be written on any one of these ideas and so I am frantically swimming in a deep ocean of theology. Mostly, I want my ideas to be compelling and I want to make something profound and beautiful that others can easily engage with. Blogging for me always seems to be an endless and unfocused work in progress. Maybe I will find a clear and concise way forward for my ideas.
Do we really need a three-fold God; at once filled, emptied, and out-poured? Has the modern/postmodern world made such philosophical mysticism obsolete? Maybe no one cares for complex speculations about abstract concepts. They do not put food on the table and do not directly impact our lives. We want concrete and certain truth. If it does not fit into our personal construction of reality, we either take it on faith to be true or reject it out of hand, there is no middle ground, no room for mystery, no patience for paradox. How can these things possibly be compelling when we are all so distracted by survival or fulfilling our insatiable appetites? I believe that God speaks to this condition. I believe that God calls us to something more than survival and consumption. I believe that how we think about and talk about God is important if we are to find true meaning in life.
I know that this is a rant stemming from my own personal frustration. I am in good company with Qoheleth, the author of Ecclesiastes, who saw the pointlessness in all things. This is where I am stuck right now, on Jesus Christ, kenosis, and the Trinity. These are important persons and concepts to me and my faith. There is not room in all the world for all the books that could be written on any one of these ideas and so I am frantically swimming in a deep ocean of theology. Mostly, I want my ideas to be compelling and I want to make something profound and beautiful that others can easily engage with. Blogging for me always seems to be an endless and unfocused work in progress. Maybe I will find a clear and concise way forward for my ideas.
Jesus Christ: God Emptied
I find myself wondering why I went on such a doctrinal tangent in beginning my ground-up theology. If I started out by stating that my goals were apologetic and that I would stay mostly in the reason corner of the Wesleyan quadrilateral, then it seems quite odd to start from a standpoint of tradition. Yet, it does help to know the basic assumptions that I am working with. So far, I have named Jesus Christ as the fully human and fully divine second person of the Trinity (the Son of God), who, in taking on human form, was emptied of divine qualities. His birth into this world was a significant and extraordinary event, showing God's freedom to intervene in the course of human history in unexpected ways. In moving into reflections on the earthly life of Jesus, it is worth exploring further the concept of Jesus Christ as God emptied.
Kenosis is a difficult concept to reconcile with the Chalcedonian formulation of Jesus having both fully human and fully divine natures. One way around this problem is to make a distinction between divine qualities and divine nature. Divine qualities are all of the omnis (omnipresence, omnipotence, omniscience, etc...) and any other way God, or any divine being for that matter, may be described. All of these ways of describing God are of course limited and God is free to have or not have any of them and still remain fully God. Simply stated, God may or may not display divine qualities and may choose to give them up, but will always have a divine nature, because God is God, even if God decides to change. It may even be possible to say that God is absolutely free to be or not to be God, but will always have a divine nature.
One fairly obvious thing that gets in the way of the concept of Jesus Christ as God emptied is the tradition of Jesus as a miracle worker. If Jesus had to give up all of the divine qualities in order to become fully human, then his ability to perform miracles is an anomaly. It is logical to question if Jesus' divinity somehow gets in the way of his humanity on this point. An historical-critical approach to this problem is to say that, in Jesus' time, miracle workers were not all that uncommon. Ancient stories about great people quite often included extraordinary or miraculous events. The miracle stories of Jesus may very well have been rhetorical devices utilized by the Gospel writers.
A more faith centered approach to this problem is to say that Jesus' divine nature gave him command over the Holy Spirit, who was really the miracle performing agent. The miracle stories, while they contain a wealth of meaning for life and faith, are mostly about the authority of Jesus as the divine Son. Still, these miracles throw a wrench in the God emptied metaphor. Why did the process of kenosis not empty Jesus of every divine quality, including authority? Taking the form of a slave means giving up all claims to authority. How can God be sovereign and slave at the same time? Perhaps only God can exist in such a profound and paradoxical mystery.
Kenosis is a difficult concept to reconcile with the Chalcedonian formulation of Jesus having both fully human and fully divine natures. One way around this problem is to make a distinction between divine qualities and divine nature. Divine qualities are all of the omnis (omnipresence, omnipotence, omniscience, etc...) and any other way God, or any divine being for that matter, may be described. All of these ways of describing God are of course limited and God is free to have or not have any of them and still remain fully God. Simply stated, God may or may not display divine qualities and may choose to give them up, but will always have a divine nature, because God is God, even if God decides to change. It may even be possible to say that God is absolutely free to be or not to be God, but will always have a divine nature.
One fairly obvious thing that gets in the way of the concept of Jesus Christ as God emptied is the tradition of Jesus as a miracle worker. If Jesus had to give up all of the divine qualities in order to become fully human, then his ability to perform miracles is an anomaly. It is logical to question if Jesus' divinity somehow gets in the way of his humanity on this point. An historical-critical approach to this problem is to say that, in Jesus' time, miracle workers were not all that uncommon. Ancient stories about great people quite often included extraordinary or miraculous events. The miracle stories of Jesus may very well have been rhetorical devices utilized by the Gospel writers.
A more faith centered approach to this problem is to say that Jesus' divine nature gave him command over the Holy Spirit, who was really the miracle performing agent. The miracle stories, while they contain a wealth of meaning for life and faith, are mostly about the authority of Jesus as the divine Son. Still, these miracles throw a wrench in the God emptied metaphor. Why did the process of kenosis not empty Jesus of every divine quality, including authority? Taking the form of a slave means giving up all claims to authority. How can God be sovereign and slave at the same time? Perhaps only God can exist in such a profound and paradoxical mystery.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Trinity and Incarnation: tiptoeing around heresy
The Trinitarian formulation is one way of handling the paradox of incarnation. Again, the term kenosis is an important concept as God became human in Jesus Christ by letting go of divine qualities, and yet remaining fully divine. One way to talk about where those qualities went at the moment of incarnation is to posit a third divine person along with God the Father and God the Son, namely God the Holy Spirit. It is almost impossible to talk about the Trinity without committing some kind of heresy, so I may be treading on some dangerous ground for some, but this post represents my best shot at making sense out of the Trinity as it pertains to the incarnation.
I cannot think of a satisfying way to get around the masculine language of the traditional names for the three persons of the Trinity. Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer has the problem of assigning specific roles to each person, when all three have a part in creation, redemption, and sustaining life. I have in the past considered the labels God's Mind, God's Body, and God's Spirit, but such categories also seem to undermine the unity of the Godhead. One alternative that I really like is Source, Wellspring, and Water, but it is missing a sense of relationality. The Lover, the Beloved, and the Love between them is a popular one, but it takes some of the person-hood away from the Holy Spirit. I do not find any of these alternatives to be very helpful in terms of incarnation. So, please bear with the masculine language for now.
In Jesus Christ, the divine Son, God is revealed as the divine Father. It is the language that Jesus used, as it is recorded in the Gospel narratives. This is not the only way to talk about God, or the only way that God is revealed, but it is has value, despite its limitations and possible harmful interpretations. Traditionally, the role of the Holy Spirit in the incarnation is as the agent through which the Son was conceived in the virgin Mary's womb. What makes this confusing is that the divine Son existed before this conception, with the Father and the Holy Spirit before all of creation. This also illustrates a problem with explaining the Holy Spirit as a product of kenosis in the incarnation. That is not quite what I mean to suggest.
We might think of God the Father as God filled, God the Son as God emptied, and God the Holy Spirit as God out-poured. This could be potentially heretical in a number of ways. It sounds sort of like modalism, that God exists in different states. Basically, God starts out as the Father, then becomes the Son, and then becomes the Holy Spirit. Sort of like if someone uses the fact that water can exist in three different states to try to explain the Trinity. It does not quite work. It could also be a kind of Arianism, a belief that the Son is a lesser divine being than the Father, subordinate and therefore a created being. I do not mean to suggest these options either.
However we may try to explain the Trinity, the fact is that at its core it is an attempt to deal with God being revealed in human form in Jesus Christ and yet at the same time remaining fully God. We could say that, during Jesus' earthly ministry, the distinctiveness of the three persons of God revealed as Trinity were most clearly distinguishable. God the Father remained in heaven, God the Son was emptied of divine qualities in order to become fully human as Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Spirit was the divine qualities without specific place or form. Both before and after the lifetime of Jesus, God's threeness is more indistinguishable and yet it can still be said faithfully and with confidence that God is in three persons.
I cannot think of a satisfying way to get around the masculine language of the traditional names for the three persons of the Trinity. Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer has the problem of assigning specific roles to each person, when all three have a part in creation, redemption, and sustaining life. I have in the past considered the labels God's Mind, God's Body, and God's Spirit, but such categories also seem to undermine the unity of the Godhead. One alternative that I really like is Source, Wellspring, and Water, but it is missing a sense of relationality. The Lover, the Beloved, and the Love between them is a popular one, but it takes some of the person-hood away from the Holy Spirit. I do not find any of these alternatives to be very helpful in terms of incarnation. So, please bear with the masculine language for now.
In Jesus Christ, the divine Son, God is revealed as the divine Father. It is the language that Jesus used, as it is recorded in the Gospel narratives. This is not the only way to talk about God, or the only way that God is revealed, but it is has value, despite its limitations and possible harmful interpretations. Traditionally, the role of the Holy Spirit in the incarnation is as the agent through which the Son was conceived in the virgin Mary's womb. What makes this confusing is that the divine Son existed before this conception, with the Father and the Holy Spirit before all of creation. This also illustrates a problem with explaining the Holy Spirit as a product of kenosis in the incarnation. That is not quite what I mean to suggest.
We might think of God the Father as God filled, God the Son as God emptied, and God the Holy Spirit as God out-poured. This could be potentially heretical in a number of ways. It sounds sort of like modalism, that God exists in different states. Basically, God starts out as the Father, then becomes the Son, and then becomes the Holy Spirit. Sort of like if someone uses the fact that water can exist in three different states to try to explain the Trinity. It does not quite work. It could also be a kind of Arianism, a belief that the Son is a lesser divine being than the Father, subordinate and therefore a created being. I do not mean to suggest these options either.
However we may try to explain the Trinity, the fact is that at its core it is an attempt to deal with God being revealed in human form in Jesus Christ and yet at the same time remaining fully God. We could say that, during Jesus' earthly ministry, the distinctiveness of the three persons of God revealed as Trinity were most clearly distinguishable. God the Father remained in heaven, God the Son was emptied of divine qualities in order to become fully human as Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Spirit was the divine qualities without specific place or form. Both before and after the lifetime of Jesus, God's threeness is more indistinguishable and yet it can still be said faithfully and with confidence that God is in three persons.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Incarnation: What it means that Jesus Christ was born into this world
In Jesus Christ, God is fully revealed in a fully human person, a two way revelation reverberating throughout all of time, showing truths about God and about humanity. It is only fitting that we have birth narratives involving choirs of angels and visiting royalty. Not because it actually happened that way, but because of the significance of such an event. In order to live a fully human life, Jesus had to be born just like every other human being and this is worth celebrating in grand fashion. This birth must also have been extraordinary in some way, a miracle and a sign pointing toward something greater than human existence. Thus we get a virgin birth, not all that uncommon in the mythos of the Greco-Roman world. Whether this can be proven to be historically factual or not does not really matter. The story is compelling and reveals truths about God anyway.
There is a wealth of possible meaning that can come from God choosing to be revealed in a fully human form and yet remaining fully God. Classic Christian theology teaches that humanity has so utterly failed to be as God intended that God came in Jesus Christ as part of a divine rescue plan for humanity. A more progressive interpretation is that the incarnation reveals and affirms the essential goodness and worth of humanity and God's love for humanity as it is, warts and all. There is truth in both of these approaches to the incarnation and they are not necessarily opposed to one another. Yet, it is not solely about the sin or the goodness of humanity. These are important theological concepts, but we can and should dig a little deeper.
The incarnation is a profound statement about the freedom of God to intervene in the course of human history. God could come in all out apocalyptic rage, turning everything upside down and reducing it all to desolation. Prophets have been giving this kind of message as long as civilization has been around and it always remains a possibility. But God chose something different in Jesus Christ. God began a special revelatory intervention as helpless as any human infant. The gospel writer Luke takes it even further by setting his birth in a hole in the wall for animals in an overcrowded city bursting at the seems with weary travelers. Hardly the "silent night" that we like to sing about.
Theologians use the Greek term kenosis to describe the emptying of the divine self in order to take on human form in Jesus Christ. This metaphor relies on an assumed multi-tiered cosmology, where humans are considered a lower form of being than God, who is assumed to be the highest and purest form of being. However, this should not primarily be understood as a blanket judgment on the depravity of humanity. Rather, it should be understood that God chose to let go of certain divine qualities, at least for a time, in order to become human. Something about God changed in this unique revelation and yet it is a general theological assumption that God cannot change. This is part of the huge paradox that the Chalcedonian formulation addresses.
There is a wealth of possible meaning that can come from God choosing to be revealed in a fully human form and yet remaining fully God. Classic Christian theology teaches that humanity has so utterly failed to be as God intended that God came in Jesus Christ as part of a divine rescue plan for humanity. A more progressive interpretation is that the incarnation reveals and affirms the essential goodness and worth of humanity and God's love for humanity as it is, warts and all. There is truth in both of these approaches to the incarnation and they are not necessarily opposed to one another. Yet, it is not solely about the sin or the goodness of humanity. These are important theological concepts, but we can and should dig a little deeper.
The incarnation is a profound statement about the freedom of God to intervene in the course of human history. God could come in all out apocalyptic rage, turning everything upside down and reducing it all to desolation. Prophets have been giving this kind of message as long as civilization has been around and it always remains a possibility. But God chose something different in Jesus Christ. God began a special revelatory intervention as helpless as any human infant. The gospel writer Luke takes it even further by setting his birth in a hole in the wall for animals in an overcrowded city bursting at the seems with weary travelers. Hardly the "silent night" that we like to sing about.
Theologians use the Greek term kenosis to describe the emptying of the divine self in order to take on human form in Jesus Christ. This metaphor relies on an assumed multi-tiered cosmology, where humans are considered a lower form of being than God, who is assumed to be the highest and purest form of being. However, this should not primarily be understood as a blanket judgment on the depravity of humanity. Rather, it should be understood that God chose to let go of certain divine qualities, at least for a time, in order to become human. Something about God changed in this unique revelation and yet it is a general theological assumption that God cannot change. This is part of the huge paradox that the Chalcedonian formulation addresses.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Chalcedon: the paradox of incarnation
Incarnation is a very theologically loaded term, but it is were a theology centered on Jesus Christ must begin. It is a term with cosmological and metaphysical significance. It involves our entire conception of the universe and how it is put together. The short answer is that we cannot possibly know everything about everything and that how God can come to us in material form, let alone as a human being, is a complete mystery. Some of the fiercest debate in human history revolved around precisely how to deal with this mystery. The church's official position was finally worked out in 451 CE at the Council of Chalcedon. The basic gist of it is that Jesus Christ is the Divine Son, who was generated from (begotten of, not created by) God before the first moment of creation and of the same substance as God, was born of the Virgin Mary taking on human form, existing in two distinct, but undivided, unchanged, and inseparable natures (both fully human and fully divine).
I do not believe that eternal salvation rides on being able to fully understand and accept the Chalcedonian formulation. Most people have probably never even heard of it, unless they went to a parochial secondary school, took a college level course in the ancient world or early church history, or had a pastor with a passion for preaching orthodox or neo-orthodox theology. However, I do find that I have some neo-orthodox Reformed leanings and generally adhere to the Chalcedonian confession of who Jesus Christ is. I realize that this is a pretty big theological assumption to start with, but my personal faith convictions are such that I could not start anywhere else.
What makes Chalcedon so important is that it shows an ability early on within Christian theology to hold and maintain paradox. In a worldview strongly influenced by Platonic dualism, such a combination of divinity and humanity would be the ultimate paradox. It cannot be said with any confidence how the ancient mind really worked. Perhaps it was much better at handling paradox than the modern mind, but it is extraordinary that this council of bishops in 451 formulated such a meaningful way to understand the paradox of incarnation. There was, and continues to be, some disagreement. However, critical thinking and debate on this point of theology can be very fruitful. Chalcedon does not need to be dogmatically guarded from all heresy in order to be meaningful and foundational for one's particular Christian theology.
I do not believe that eternal salvation rides on being able to fully understand and accept the Chalcedonian formulation. Most people have probably never even heard of it, unless they went to a parochial secondary school, took a college level course in the ancient world or early church history, or had a pastor with a passion for preaching orthodox or neo-orthodox theology. However, I do find that I have some neo-orthodox Reformed leanings and generally adhere to the Chalcedonian confession of who Jesus Christ is. I realize that this is a pretty big theological assumption to start with, but my personal faith convictions are such that I could not start anywhere else.
What makes Chalcedon so important is that it shows an ability early on within Christian theology to hold and maintain paradox. In a worldview strongly influenced by Platonic dualism, such a combination of divinity and humanity would be the ultimate paradox. It cannot be said with any confidence how the ancient mind really worked. Perhaps it was much better at handling paradox than the modern mind, but it is extraordinary that this council of bishops in 451 formulated such a meaningful way to understand the paradox of incarnation. There was, and continues to be, some disagreement. However, critical thinking and debate on this point of theology can be very fruitful. Chalcedon does not need to be dogmatically guarded from all heresy in order to be meaningful and foundational for one's particular Christian theology.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Where theology begins
Now that I have finished all my seminary obligations, I am free to do more theology on my own terms. I have a desire to build a theological system from the ground up and perhaps I can satisfy this desire through blogging. The first task is to work out a good starting point and there are many to choose from. Finding a suitable definition for God would be a logical place to begin, but given the wealth of possible information from sacred texts and from every theologian who ever lived, a comprehensive doctrine of God is just too broad of a foundation to build on. There is also a humanistic temptation of starting with the definition of humanity and then fitting God into it somehow. Problems with that kind of anthropocentrism include idolatry of the human form (believing humanity to be God, or at the very least believing that humanity is the most important life form in the universe) or a severe downgrade of humanity (we're all just psychotic apes after all).
Both of these options illustrate a fundamental tension of the theological task. In order to build theology we need information. Information about God comes by revelation from either an outside source (sacred text, tradition) or an inside source (reason, experience). So, the Wesleyan quadrilateral emerges. Christian purists might contend that John Wesley meant for the sacred text (specifically the Christian Scriptures) to be the primary source for theology and the other three categories are meant to be illumined by the Scriptures. Such an idealistic stance may be commendable, but in reality the quadrilateral is more descriptive than prescriptive. It is a mistake to pretend that our understanding of sacred texts is not informed and colored by our tradition, reason, and experience, let alone pretend that sacred texts are not a product of ancient text, tradition, reason, and experience.
Let me be clear that I do believe in the Christian Scriptures (this includes both Old and New Testaments in the Christian canon). They are extremely helpful and formative for both personal and public faith, as well as for society as a whole. As a foundation and starting point for theology, they are ambiguous at best and even contradictory at certain points. This is not itself a bad thing. Healthy theology will contain a certain level of ambiguity and paradox. The danger with any sacred text, specifically as it pertains to theology, comes in an uncritical and unrealistic elevation of its importance. This can be a form of idolatry, as it can effectively silence God's revelation through other sources.
Most of my writing will fall in the reason corner of the quadrilateral. This is not to say that the other three corners are less important or somehow irrelevant, or that my own thinking is the sole authoritative source of revelation. My goal is primarily apologetic, meaning to talk about theology through the language of reason with the intent of inviting readers into a deeper engagement with the Divine. It will be strongly Christian and particularly colored by Anabaptist, Radical Pietist, and Reformed traditions. You may recognize allusions to Scripture and you may detect hints of theologians that I have read. I may even drop a name on occasion. This is not intended to be academic writing and I am not as of yet seeking to make any profit through writing, so please kindly excuse any unintended plagiarism.
So, I have strung a bunch of words together without really answering my original question. As a Christian, I believe that my theology should begin with Jesus Christ. This is by no means the only place to begin building a theology, but it is my conviction that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ are lenses through which we can look at God and mirrors through which we can look at ourselves as human beings. However, this is still a rather large foundation to start building upon. I suppose, though, that foundation as a metaphor demands a certain breadth. The foundation needs to be at least as wide as the structure you intend to build and must be able to support the height of said structure. A single foundation may also support several structures that may or may not be connected in any other way. Jesus Christ is a big enough foundation for many theologies.
Perhaps cornerstone is a better metaphor. What is the first and most important stone to be laid? I am inclined to give the same answer. So I begin with an unavoidable paradox. Jesus Christ is both the foundation and the corner stone. As if things were not confusing enough, there is an alternate translation of capstone, or keystone, instead of corner stone. From the start, the language of reason shows it's limitations when it comes to theology. Jesus Christ, the foundation, cornerstone, capstone, and keystone confounds reason. Yet, this is where this reasoned theology starts.
Perhaps the whole task of building a theology is flawed to begin with. I can say that Jesus Christ is the foundation, but then I have to say what my understanding of Jesus Christ is. Even the foundation must be built. Maybe there really is no foundation and theology is more like building a house of cards. Someone or something can easily come along and knock it down. So, I will at least continue to string words and ideas about God together, even if I do not really say anything at all. Maybe others will be inspired to think more deeply about things, or maybe it will help me continue to sort things out for myself.
Both of these options illustrate a fundamental tension of the theological task. In order to build theology we need information. Information about God comes by revelation from either an outside source (sacred text, tradition) or an inside source (reason, experience). So, the Wesleyan quadrilateral emerges. Christian purists might contend that John Wesley meant for the sacred text (specifically the Christian Scriptures) to be the primary source for theology and the other three categories are meant to be illumined by the Scriptures. Such an idealistic stance may be commendable, but in reality the quadrilateral is more descriptive than prescriptive. It is a mistake to pretend that our understanding of sacred texts is not informed and colored by our tradition, reason, and experience, let alone pretend that sacred texts are not a product of ancient text, tradition, reason, and experience.
Let me be clear that I do believe in the Christian Scriptures (this includes both Old and New Testaments in the Christian canon). They are extremely helpful and formative for both personal and public faith, as well as for society as a whole. As a foundation and starting point for theology, they are ambiguous at best and even contradictory at certain points. This is not itself a bad thing. Healthy theology will contain a certain level of ambiguity and paradox. The danger with any sacred text, specifically as it pertains to theology, comes in an uncritical and unrealistic elevation of its importance. This can be a form of idolatry, as it can effectively silence God's revelation through other sources.
Most of my writing will fall in the reason corner of the quadrilateral. This is not to say that the other three corners are less important or somehow irrelevant, or that my own thinking is the sole authoritative source of revelation. My goal is primarily apologetic, meaning to talk about theology through the language of reason with the intent of inviting readers into a deeper engagement with the Divine. It will be strongly Christian and particularly colored by Anabaptist, Radical Pietist, and Reformed traditions. You may recognize allusions to Scripture and you may detect hints of theologians that I have read. I may even drop a name on occasion. This is not intended to be academic writing and I am not as of yet seeking to make any profit through writing, so please kindly excuse any unintended plagiarism.
So, I have strung a bunch of words together without really answering my original question. As a Christian, I believe that my theology should begin with Jesus Christ. This is by no means the only place to begin building a theology, but it is my conviction that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ are lenses through which we can look at God and mirrors through which we can look at ourselves as human beings. However, this is still a rather large foundation to start building upon. I suppose, though, that foundation as a metaphor demands a certain breadth. The foundation needs to be at least as wide as the structure you intend to build and must be able to support the height of said structure. A single foundation may also support several structures that may or may not be connected in any other way. Jesus Christ is a big enough foundation for many theologies.
Perhaps cornerstone is a better metaphor. What is the first and most important stone to be laid? I am inclined to give the same answer. So I begin with an unavoidable paradox. Jesus Christ is both the foundation and the corner stone. As if things were not confusing enough, there is an alternate translation of capstone, or keystone, instead of corner stone. From the start, the language of reason shows it's limitations when it comes to theology. Jesus Christ, the foundation, cornerstone, capstone, and keystone confounds reason. Yet, this is where this reasoned theology starts.
Perhaps the whole task of building a theology is flawed to begin with. I can say that Jesus Christ is the foundation, but then I have to say what my understanding of Jesus Christ is. Even the foundation must be built. Maybe there really is no foundation and theology is more like building a house of cards. Someone or something can easily come along and knock it down. So, I will at least continue to string words and ideas about God together, even if I do not really say anything at all. Maybe others will be inspired to think more deeply about things, or maybe it will help me continue to sort things out for myself.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Lament the fallen warriors (Memorial Day 2013)
Lament the fallen warriors.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with David,
"How the mighty have fallen,
and the weapons of war perished!" (2 Sam 1:27)
Mourn for every nation
that sends the prime of its youth
into inner and outer darkness,
the hell of fire,
the pit of Gehenna,
and cannot bring them back.
Lament the fallen warriors.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with Jeremiah,
"For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?" (Jer 8:21-22a)
Mourn for every nation
that asks its young and poor to sacrifice
on behalf of the established and wealthy,
to be a balm and a salve
for the wounds of humanity,
and cannot bring them back.
Lament the fallen warriors.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with Jesus
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
the city that kills the prophets
and stones those who are sent to it!
How often have I desired
to gather your children together
as a hen gathers he brood under her wings,
and you were not willing!" (Luke 13:34)
Mourn for every nation
that does not embrace its young
safely under wing,
but exposes them to the elements
before they can spread their own wings
and live to their full potential,
and cannot bring them back.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with David,
"How the mighty have fallen,
and the weapons of war perished!" (2 Sam 1:27)
Mourn for every nation
that sends the prime of its youth
into inner and outer darkness,
the hell of fire,
the pit of Gehenna,
and cannot bring them back.
Lament the fallen warriors.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with Jeremiah,
"For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?" (Jer 8:21-22a)
Mourn for every nation
that asks its young and poor to sacrifice
on behalf of the established and wealthy,
to be a balm and a salve
for the wounds of humanity,
and cannot bring them back.
Lament the fallen warriors.
Cry for those who spent their lives
in service to their homeland.
Weep with Jesus
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
the city that kills the prophets
and stones those who are sent to it!
How often have I desired
to gather your children together
as a hen gathers he brood under her wings,
and you were not willing!" (Luke 13:34)
Mourn for every nation
that does not embrace its young
safely under wing,
but exposes them to the elements
before they can spread their own wings
and live to their full potential,
and cannot bring them back.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
The power of Jesus Christ
Jesus Christ is powerful. The very name and title has power; resurrection power, saving power, healing power. That "Every knee shall bend...and every tongue confess..."(Philippians 2:10-11) is a promise filled with the universal power of Jesus' name. Jesus (YHWH saves) Christ (anointed) is both spiritual and royal, traditionally rendered as Lord.
In traditional language, the relationship between Jesus and believers is that of sovereign and subject, master and slave. How can this relationship be re-imagined to better suit today's context, without the loss of reverence for the power in the name Jesus Christ, yet without holding on to the damage that traditional ideology creates?
One answer is to say that yes Jesus is Lord, but a different sort of Lord, one who serves. Jesus subverts the sovereign/subject master/slave relationship by, among other things, bending down to wash the feet of his disciples (John 13). He is a ruler, but not in the same way that a human ruler rules.
For the earliest followers of Jesus, the affirmation that Jesus is Lord was over and against the power claims of Caesar. The good news of victory (euangelion) for Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was a direct contradiction to the good news of victory for Caesar, the Son of God.
However, saying that Jesus is a different sort of Lord is dodging the question. The language of sovereign/subject master/slave remains intact for otherwise good intentioned Christians to abuse. Along similar lines, following the subversive message of Jesus Christ over and against the powers of empire in our world can be denying that God can and does work through those powers, however broken and corrupt they may be.
Perhaps a good answer is to affirm Jesus Christ both as the pioneer of a new way (Hebrews 12:2) (one to follow after (nachfolge Christi for the early Anabaptists)), and as the power that calls believers to repentance and animates them to faithful action through the Spirit (John 15:5-15).
To lay claim to the name Jesus Christ is to lay claim to this power of resurrection, salvation, and wholeness. It is a power that compels discipleship to the way of Jesus and animates those who follow to transformative action in the world. It is good news to the poor, freedom for the prisoners, sight for the blind, and release for the oppressed (Luke 4:18; Isaiah 61:1).
In traditional language, the relationship between Jesus and believers is that of sovereign and subject, master and slave. How can this relationship be re-imagined to better suit today's context, without the loss of reverence for the power in the name Jesus Christ, yet without holding on to the damage that traditional ideology creates?
One answer is to say that yes Jesus is Lord, but a different sort of Lord, one who serves. Jesus subverts the sovereign/subject master/slave relationship by, among other things, bending down to wash the feet of his disciples (John 13). He is a ruler, but not in the same way that a human ruler rules.
For the earliest followers of Jesus, the affirmation that Jesus is Lord was over and against the power claims of Caesar. The good news of victory (euangelion) for Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was a direct contradiction to the good news of victory for Caesar, the Son of God.
However, saying that Jesus is a different sort of Lord is dodging the question. The language of sovereign/subject master/slave remains intact for otherwise good intentioned Christians to abuse. Along similar lines, following the subversive message of Jesus Christ over and against the powers of empire in our world can be denying that God can and does work through those powers, however broken and corrupt they may be.
Perhaps a good answer is to affirm Jesus Christ both as the pioneer of a new way (Hebrews 12:2) (one to follow after (nachfolge Christi for the early Anabaptists)), and as the power that calls believers to repentance and animates them to faithful action through the Spirit (John 15:5-15).
To lay claim to the name Jesus Christ is to lay claim to this power of resurrection, salvation, and wholeness. It is a power that compels discipleship to the way of Jesus and animates those who follow to transformative action in the world. It is good news to the poor, freedom for the prisoners, sight for the blind, and release for the oppressed (Luke 4:18; Isaiah 61:1).
Friday, March 29, 2013
Marriage
Does theology have a place in current debates about marriage equality? There are any number of theological positions on marriage and scriptures that could be thrown in support of and against each one, but I would like to suggest one position in support of marriage equality. I admit that it has problems, but I think that it is worth consideration.
It is quite natural for faithful people to desire blessedness in every aspect of life, especially in relationships. For many, the marriage relationship represents the most intimate form of one person relating to another and, by extension, the most blessed in and of itself. Based on this assumption, If God is love [agape] (1 Jn 4:8), then the fullest expression of God in a human relationship is through marriage. By this logic, to deny marriage to anyone could be considered denying an expression of God and might even be against God (Acts 6:33-39; 1 Tim 4:1-4).
My point is that there are many ways to think about marriage theologically and biblically and to suggest one such way. I hope that it adds something to the continued conversation even if it is based on some assumptions that not everyone can agree with.
It is quite natural for faithful people to desire blessedness in every aspect of life, especially in relationships. For many, the marriage relationship represents the most intimate form of one person relating to another and, by extension, the most blessed in and of itself. Based on this assumption, If God is love [agape] (1 Jn 4:8), then the fullest expression of God in a human relationship is through marriage. By this logic, to deny marriage to anyone could be considered denying an expression of God and might even be against God (Acts 6:33-39; 1 Tim 4:1-4).
My point is that there are many ways to think about marriage theologically and biblically and to suggest one such way. I hope that it adds something to the continued conversation even if it is based on some assumptions that not everyone can agree with.
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