KYRIE ELEISON

Ecclesia as Mission.

2012-02-27T19:20:00.010-05:00

I spent most of the day reading Nate Kerr's Christ, History, and Apocalyptic: The Politics of Christian Mission for seminar tomorrow. And then I spent a few hours discussing the book with some good friends. My mind is still reeling from the book so these thoughts are probably premature and unhelpful. But I found Kerr's understanding of ecclesia to be a direct extension of Barth's understanding of Church as event. In my estimation and to my utter surprise given the numerous reviews of the book, and I shared this with my friends, I don't think that Kerr undermines the importance of ecclesia at all, but rather reformulates the identity of the Church in a way that takes us away from attempting to secure our own existence and power, to the Church that is always for the other and only exists as it does so in concrete action. You might not like his definition of ecclesia, but he certainly has one (despite its ever-present fluidity). Here was one of my favorite parts:

"The heart of the question of mission has to do with coming to 'see the church in relationship to the world rather than defining ecclesial existence "by definition" or "as such"'. Whatever we thus mean by speaking of the church as an ecclesia, we can no longer simply mean by this a 'gathering' which occurs exclusively or even primarily in terms of 'centred' spaces of a formation that occurs prior to the movement into that which is 'outside' or 'beyond'. ... The immediate referent of the ecclesia is not then that church which would tarry along here below as a counter-polis to the cities of earth, but rather that eschatological city in the fullness of whose coming there will not longer be even a church, but rather the manifestation of that 'new humanity' from all the nations in and through whom God's own life will be all in all. ...

Constituted by mission, 'church' is entirely the operation of God's apocalyptic action in Christ, and its 'peoplehood' the diasporic work of the Spirit. As under exile, such a peoplehood is bound to appear as tenuously ad hoc, its fleeting presence being only 'for a time', and so at best politically irrelevant and at worst dangerously ineffective. And yet such might be the surest sign that one has, by God's grace, been delivered over to that mode of engaged and embodied action whereby alone we pass from ideology to doxology" (189, 196).

Isn't that what we fear most? That ecclesia will be fleeting, and ultimately seen by the world as irrelevant, and ineffective? That ecclesia is not simply a being that "is" as an entity we can claim and control? Isn't everything we try to do be it through fantastically hip visual media, the aesthetic of high-church liturgies, political involvement and alignment with certain interest groups, or even action for and among the poor usually a desire to secure the Church's presence, relevance, and effectiveness in the world? Don't we usually live as though the very salvation of the world depends upon the Church as a mediation of divine revelation? I think Kerr's corrective words against such attempt to secure power and visibility over and against the world can not be ignored.

Disclaimer: When I ask rhetorical questions like those in this post, I'm not necessarily referencing any specific person or school of thought in general. My last aim is to be uncharitable and alienate. This blog is almost always a space to work out my own personal theological views rather than a violent exercise in polemics. I am working out my own resistances to a Barthian understanding of the Church as an event, which are directly manifested in the questions I listed themselves. Because ultimately, I (sinfully) want to secure my own power and my own relevance, and effectiveness in this world and have done so in the past through Church attendance, the liturgy, political involvement, and working with the poor. Kerr's words are those of judgment over and against attempts to do so and I thank him for it.

The Theology of Eberhard Jüngel

2012-02-19T19:49:00.005-05:00

I picked up Eberhard Jüngel: Theological Essays II (ed. John Webster) from the library this evening and read the first essay entitled "'My Theology' - A Short Summary" over dinner. After a self-conscious introduction, Jüngel outlines nine points to offer his own theological confession of sorts. I found it to be really interesting, especially the third and ninth point. However, for what it is worth, I'm not entirely convinced that "speaking" which comes as a result of belief, should formally precede "listening", "astonishment", "thinking", or more importantly, "suffering." The following are his nine confessional points with excerpts under each point:

1. I believe, therefore I speak.

"Not of me and of my faith - or at any rate of me and my faith only in so far as it is pertinent. I believe, therefore I speak of the God in whom I believe and of his liberating truth" (4).

2. I believe, therefore I listen.

"One should note: God himself comes to speech. He himself 'takes the floor'. Indeed, to his eternal being there belongs language that addresses. No human being can speak from him or herself. But God is the one who does speak from himself. His word is the original expression of his being and the original form of address and, in the unity of both, the word that creates out of nothing. Faith hears this word. It knows itself to be created by this word. It owes itself to this word. Hearing, it comes into existence. And it always returns again to the word which created it. I believe, therefore I listen to the God who speaks out of himself" (6).

3. I believe, therefore I am astonished.

"In believing, the human person experiences the mystery of the triune God who takes the relationlessness of death upon himself, in order to be the being rich in relations, the being of love in the unity of life and death to the benefit of life. It is the mystery of even greater selflessness in the midst of such great trinitarian self-relatedness. In faith in the triune God, the depths of the word of the cross are opened up. I believe, therefore I am astonished at the trinitarian mystery as the sum of the gospel: God from eternity and thus in and of himself is God for us" (8).

4. I believe, therefore I think.

"The faith which gives itself to be thought attains its idea of God from the harshness of the death of Jesus Christ. It therefore demands that God be thought as the one whose creative omnipotence and freedom are something other than what is prompted by axiom of divine absoluteness, and as the one whose eternity and activity is something other than what is demanded by the axioms of the timelessness and impassibility of the eternal. If God is love, then truly love is omnipotent, and love is the very core of all true power. And the truth-criterion of power is that it is able to have compassion, and in this way to overcome suffering. God's being must then be thought as an existence which exposes itself to nothingness, whose richness of being realizes itself as a se in nihilum existere, existing out of itself into nothingness. And God's creation must then be thought as an act of primordial beginning which implies as act of primordial self-limitation" (11).

5. I believe, therefore I differentiate.

Those who believe have found in God and in God alone the origin and goal of their being, the supporting foundation of their existence. They know themselves to be eternally secure in his creative love, and in it alone. They know themselves to be justified by God's grace, and by it alone. They know Jesus Christ as the way and the truth and the life, and he alone. When it is a matter of the truth of their idea of God and of their salvation, they listen to the Holy Scriptures, and to them alone. ... But to say alone and only is already to be involved in differentiating in a fundamental way that which may in no way be mixed. Sin is known as the presumptuousness of wanting to be like God, and its destructive compulsion as the need to want to be like God. The believer knows that God became human to differentiate savingly and definitely between God and humanity. ... The believer exists in distinction. In this way he or she safeguards life's wealth of relations. Whoever differentiates has more from life" (13).

6. I believe, therefore I hope.

"I believe, therefore I hope that world history will not be the judge of the world, such the murderers would always triumph over their victims. Rather I hope that Jesus Christ will come to judge the living and the dead, in order to reveal himself again in this judgment as the one who calls sin by name and thus as the savior who liberates the sinner from sin" (15).

7. I believe, therefore I act.

"Hope is the motive of all action. However, clear hope in God's coming kingdom has obligated hope to a specific course of action. For in view of the coming kingdom of freedom of peace, of justice, and of love, the one who hopes recognizes what is to be done and what is to be left undone, given the conditions of the world. He or she hopes to be able to make plausible for human reason at least distant - very distant - parables of the kingdom of God on earth as goals of human activity, and is determined to work for the realization of these goals as much as possible" (16).

8. I believe, therefore I am - namely, a new creature and as such, one called to represent the being of Jesus Christ in the communion of saints, as a person existing as a member of the church of Jesus Christ.

"The church is different from other human communities in that it lives from the forgiveness of sins and precisely thereby is holy, and in that it knows that it lives from the forgiveness of sins. In this way it represents God as the one who forgives sin by granting a share in his holiness. In this way, moreover, it represents God as the one who liberates from self-incurred slavery and immaturity by granting a share in his freedom. In this way, also, it represents God as the one who reconciles the world by granting a share in the peace of his life as Father, Son, and Holy Spire in which the deepest opposites are united" (17).

9. I believe, therefore I suffer.

"In fact the believer will often be able only to be silent. Yet if faith's silence is not the last possibility, if there is no final silence for faith, it is because faith has come to know God as the truth himself. One may not therefore withhold from him even the sorrowful and painful truth. Afflicted silence necessarily directs the complaint which speaks truth toward God, even if it is only expressed in the form of a cry de profundis. Theology need not be ashamed of this cry to God, which must also be able to accompany even the most certain talk of God, if it is to be responsible talk of God. ... For as a theology of the cross, it connects the tested faith to its origin, back to the God who suffers for us, because through his suffering he helped the love that has overcome death to victory, the only comfort of suffering humanity. He has eternally condemned evil and sin to defeat. The first and last task of proper theology is therefore not that of articulating our story of suffering, but that of bringing the story of Christ's passion to speech as gospel. Yet in everything it has constantly asserted one thing and one thing only: that the God who was denounced and crucified by his human creatures has said to us and so also to himself once and for all Yes (2 Cor 2:19). And 'my theology' can be and seeks to be nothing other than the reflective attempt to spell out this divine Yes" (19, emphasis added).

The Heart of God.

2012-02-01T02:58:00.006-05:00

This has to be one of the most beautiful passages I've read as a theology student thus far:

"This is Mt. 9:36: 'But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd.'

As we have already read in Lk. 1:78 about the σπλαγχνα [compassions] of God, we now read about an εσπλαγχνισθη [being filled with compassion] expressly attributed to the man Jesus of Nazareth as He journeys through the towns and villages of Galilee, teaching and preaching and healing. The expression is a strong one which defies adequate translation. He was not only affected to the heart by the misery which surrounded Him - sympathy in our modern sense is far too feeble a word - but it went right into His heart, into Himself, so that it was now His misery. It was more His than that of those who suffered it. He took it from them and laid if on Himself. In the last analysis it was no longer theirs at all, but His. He Himself suffered it in their place. The cry of those who suffered was only an echo. Strictly speaking, it had already been superseded. It was superfluous. Jesus had made it His own. To the mercy of God which brings radical and total and definitive salvation there now corresponded the help which Jesus brought to men by His radical and total and definitive self-giving to and for their cause. In this self-giving, by the fact that His mercy, in this sense, led Him to see men in this way, He was on earth as God is in heaven. In this self-giving He was the Kingdom of God come on earth."

- Karl Barth, CD IV.2, 185.

The Promise of Heaven.

2012-01-23T20:15:00.008-05:00

For my M.Div degree requirements, I've had the opportunity to serve as a chaplain for this current academic year. I hardly ever talk about my experiences as a chaplain, both online or in face-to-face conversations. There is rarely so much and so little to say at the same time. I often find myself quite undone by the experiences I am afforded in chaplaincy. I don't think I've ever been more keenly aware of my own limitations, shortcomings, finiteness, and inabilities. And I don't think anything else in my life has quite drastically shaped and challenged my theological confessions as these past few months. Through the numerous conversations and confessions, the moments of consoling someone's deafening cries, or being asked the most basic questions about God's love in the face of true darkness, I am reminded of the need for hope.

But where does hope come from? For me, heaven invokes images of hope. Since I was a little girl, the understanding of heaven was always in the future where the Lord returns again and makes all things new. I genuinely can't recall how many times tears have fallen over the pages of Revelation 21 when God seems utterly absent in moments of suffering. Yet, these past few months have reminded me that this future-oriented eschatology is not enough. In fact, it is all too cheap. This understanding of heaven is not sufficient for those I am supposed to listen to, comfort, and counsel today. And so I've been left to continually ponder the meaning of heaven and the promises therein for the here and now. I've repeatedly turned to the eschatological vision of Moltmann to answer these questions. In fact, I think all chaplains simply need tremendous amounts of Moltmann to get them through the day. This specific passage explaining Moltmann's understanding of heaven is nothing short of the kind of salvific hope that keeps faith alive:

"Understood as adventus, it is the promised future that ultimately determines what becomes of the past and present, and not the other way around, as the idea of futurum implies, with all prospects for what will become of things considered to be determined by their past. The prophesied Day of the Lord is characteristically proclaimed as coming from ahead, not from behind. The trajectory of its coming is not from the past into the present but from the future into the present ...

To hear this word of heaven's coming as God's promise changes not only the way the future is perceived, Moltmann emphasizes, but even more importantly and as a consequence, the way that the present is engaged. By not finding its corresponding reality in present experience, the language of promise, as Moltmann points it, creates the experience of history. The reason this is so is that a promise creates a new reality in the present by instituting a relationship to the future that would not otherwise be the case. In the terminology of the linguistic philosophers, a promise has performative and not simply informative force in that it constitutes a commitment. Its truth can only be proven in coming events as the word of commitment is not only given but also kept and revealed to be trustworthy in what comes to pass. In the terminology of scripture, to cite words from Paul, the experience of history Moltmann describes is the sharing in 'the sufferings of this present time' of a promised 'glory about to be revealed' (Rom. 8:18).

It is the glory of what is promised that creates the engagement, and not the evasion, of the sufferings of the present. The heavenly future proves true only with reference to what is currently happening on earth. This is strikingly emphasized in the Gospel of Matthew, where the coming of the Son of Man with the glory of all the angels is promised in Jesus' teaching to be revealed precisely int he treatment of those who are currently being considered "the least" (Mt. 25:40, 45). Equally, in the the Letter to the Hebrews, where much is written of a faithful hearing of the promise of heaven, it is notable that the "desire [for] a heavenly country" (Heb. 11:16) is not assocated with any disregard of earth and its sufferings, but rather is depicted as a persevering on this very way of the Cross, by currently showing hospitality to strangers, and remembering those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those being tortured, as though being tortured as well (Heb. 13:1-3).

Living by the promise of what is coming in this Gospel frame of reference, Moltmann concludes, represents no utopian evasion of present reality in favor of some never-never land of bliss beyond the sunset because it is only in relation to events happening here and now, in the social and political, as well as existential experience of history, that the promised advent proves to be a countervailing reality to its crucifying opposition. In doing so it reveals the constancy of the future's commitment to the present, an historical faithfulness not realized in factually demonstrable or existentialist phenomena, but in the existence of perseverance in hope en route to the Promised Land."

- Christopher Morse, The Difference Heaven Makes, 46-47.

Theology as Divine Possibility.

2012-01-18T23:14:00.004-05:00

After reading about Radical Orthodoxy all evening, I found this respite:

"For Karl Barth, theology is, human speaking, an impossibility; where it nevertheless becomes possible, it does so only as a divine possibility. A theology which has truly understood this will be one which finds its basis - not once, but again and again - in the Realdialektik of the divine veiling and unveiling. It will be a theology which takes seriously the reality of divine action not only on the level of the theological epistemology it presupposes but also on the level of the theological method it employs. On the other hand, the employment of a method which could succeed in the tasks appointed for it by its human practitioners whether God exists or not - which, in fact, would not be altered in the least by a confession of the nonexistence of God - would reduce theology to something humanly achievable, manipulable, controllable. It would reduce theology to a regular, bourgeois science alongside all other sciences."

- Bruce McCormack, Orthodox and Modern, 112.

Disbelief and Resurrection Faith.

2012-01-17T21:18:00.005-05:00

In an attempt to a take a break from modern European church history reading that I should not be taking, I decided to start reading another book I picked up at AAR last year. As I decided to grab Christopher Morse's Not Every Spirit: A Dogmatics of Christian Disbelief off the bookshelf before heading to the coffee shop, I had no idea what to expect. I purchased this book because it came highly recommended from multiple seminary friends. And I am so very thankful I did. Over Christmas break, I listened to some lectures by Dorothee Sölle and was left with quite an impression concerning her approach to theology given her unspeakable experiences of oppression. For this reason, I was pleasantly surprised to find Morse's particular understanding of theology as not only including positive beliefs about God but also faithful disbelief. Apparently, Morse taught a doctrine of God course with Sölle during their time at Union Seminary. When Morse offered his perspective concerning disbelief in relation to the doctrine of God during one of the course lectures, Sölle remarked "If what you say is indeed traditional Christian teaching, I could accept it, but that is not what traditional Christian teaching is" (xiii). Sölle's willingness to embrace Morse's understanding of the task of theology immediately made me think that Morse is offering something in this work that can neither be ignored nor taken lightly. Even though I have barely begun this book, I thought that this particular excerpt was too meaningful to pass by. Morse uses the character of Rachel mentioned in the Gospel of Matthew as a figure of disbelief worthy of imitation for the Christian life. As the biblical narrative witnesses, King Herod ordered the murder of all the first-born children under the age of two-years old in Bethlehem in an attempt to kill Jesus. In the face of such suffering, "a voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more" (Matthew 2:18). These same words came to the people of Israel half a millenium earlier through the prophet Jeremiah telling of the coming oppression from an evil ruler. However, Jeremiah's words included a promise from the Lord: "Thus says the Lord: 'Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears;...there is hope for your future'" (Jer. 31:16-17). And this hope was the promised Messiah in the birth of Jesus. Morse offers a incredible picture of what Rachel means for those who live in the place of inconsolable grief:

"It should be observed that no explanation is given in these scriptures to the question of why, despite all her resistance, such suffering, injustice, and oppression afflict Rachel in places on this earth, no answer to why evil lays claim to innocent children. What Rachel does is refuse all false comfort and facile explanation. She refuses to be consoled. And by her inclusion this refusal is honored in the Gospel as a faithful testimony. That is the point I find so striking. In the darkness surrounding Rachel, just as much as in the light surrounding the natal star, the birthplace of the Christ is revealed. At the Nativity a manger somehow adjoins her tomb. Of this her disbelief of all consolation not of God becomes the faithful witness. Her voice, so Jeremiah tells us, is the one God hears.

In pondering these texts Martin Luther saw in Rachel the gospel's link between the Nativity and Good Friday. In the godforsakeness of God's own Son on the Cross (Matt. 27:46) the promised hope for Rachel is embodied. By not believing any consolation short of God's own descent in hell in Christ, the refusal of Rachel becomes a faithful witness pointing to the Resurrection. From the perspective of Resurrection faith, both the credulity that seeks comfort in false hope, and the cynicism that says there is no hope that can be trusted in the manger adjoining Rachel's tomb, are revealed as not to be believed.

Wherever we find today the credulity willing to believe anything comfortable that passes itself off as spirituality or God-talk, and wherever we find today the cynicism that says there is no hope or faith worth trusting, Rachel's refusal becomes a most timely witness to a Resurrection faith. ...

To the extent that Rachel's refusal is heard in this letter as faithful disbelief and not as faithful unbelief we are reminded of a Good Friday witness to the God whose name refuses to be spoken unless God speaks it through the silenced one."

- Christopher Morse, A Dogmatics of Christian Disbelief, 11-12.

The Importance of Radical Theological Witness.

2012-01-14T13:31:00.011-05:00

"Look, ladies and gentlemen, I have been allowed to have a long life and ... have been allowed to grow. What I say now - the substance is still the same thing - but my form of thinking has changed and changed again. ... At this very moment, I am always changing forms of thinking concerning the same things, the same reality. And then look, that was 40 years ago. Think, 40 years ago! Nobody of you was born at that time when I wrote these pages. Well, and then I was under the influence from Plato, from Kant, from Dostoyevsky, from Kierkegaard, and so on. And then I was in a big fight against my liberal fathers and then in order to strike them I said such things as those mentioned ... in order to be strong. Well, later on I saw this phrase can no longer be used. I meant it, and I meant it well, but I had to go on and say no more such all too audacious things as I said then. All of you will make the same experience. I hope that you will also be allowed to begin with a strong impact and then day by day and year for year you will have to learn. ... Look, it would be dull if I have written a book 40 years ago and now there it is stated and no change. A man hopes to be a man who is a living being who goes on and who goes on his way. He remains always the same, but also the spiritual and intellectual scene in which he lives changes. ... And the old books with which you will find contradictions: don't be disturbed by it, but try to go onwards and forward with me."

- Karl Barth, Warfield Lectures, discussion with students session, May 2nd, 1962. This is a response to a student in the audience who asked Barth to recollect something Barth wrote in his earlier years. The student wanted to know if he had the correct interpretation of Barth's earlier thought because his teacher said it did not sound like Barth's work.

Disclaimer: This is the best transcript of the audio that I can manage. The eclipses in the quote note the parts that were nearly impossible to understand given the quality of the recording and Barth's rather strong accent. You can obtain a copy of the recording to listen for yourself by going here.

I listened to this recording right before Christmas and have given a great deal of thought to Barth's sentiment in hoping theologians will have the space and privilege to make a radical statement in the beginning of their work. The more and more I become involved in the theological world through conferences, conversations (journals, social media, blogs, etc.) and various schools I've attended, I question whether or not it is possible for theologians to exist in this present time inside that sort of space to speak radically.

Most of the theological conversations I witness personally through the areas mentioned above are typically male-dominated. Men have a way of tearing other men down quite violently with their rhetoric. This doesn't mean that I don't think debate and even passionate, intense debate is unwarranted. Indeed, I think such things are quite necessary. But I sometimes wonder if the way in which men engage other men in these conversations only serves as a debilitating discouragement to those young male theologians who might be trying to say something radical for the sake of prophetic witness against what they see as simply wrong. Men, generally speaking, are not the greatest at drawing other men out to learn from them. They typically don't seek to learn from other men (and other women) unless the person is a scholar in their field. It is almost as if the person with whom they are engaging has nothing to offer them by default and the person must prove to them that they are worthy of being heard and respected.

Maybe more importantly, this sort of interaction has a devastating influence upon women as well. Any women who are also trying to be theologians witness this sort of verbal man-eating and they think they want nothing to do with this world. What good can come of this sort of interaction? Women already struggle enough with trying to make their own space within the theological world. The conversations that happen among men only serve as greater discouragement to women that they will never measure up. And so women choose not to engage the conversation. They become silent, and retreat into their own corners of the world. And we miss their voices in the beginning of their work as well that might serve as a radical influence in the world of theology.

This interaction is not even limited to graduate students. I've witnessed creative, bold, and brilliant older theologians with radically new theological interpretations enter into theological spaces and discourses only to find their ideas met with violent opposition. I'm talking about the kind of opposition that isn't simply about engaging ideas, but truly seeking to tear human beings down, to shame them and silence them. If you listen to these sorts of interactions long enough, you will notice that those interacting with such theologians don't usually directly engage the argument on the table. There is most often the response, "well, what does your argument mean for this discipline?", "what does your argument mean for this area?", "what are the implications of your argument for this doctrine?", "how can that be correct if it leads to this?" I think such questions are obviously important, but not when they fail to engage the actual argument presented that could really influence the theological world for better or worse. I confess that I have pushed up against radical theologies myself many times in the past. I have done this because I think that radical theologies can fail to embrace respect for elders. But I also continue to remember how important revolutionary thinking is for the very task of theology.

In light of everything I just said, I wonder, as a mere M.Div student, how these radical young theologians and scholars survive such intense criticism. You can have all the confidence in your work in the world. But there is a need inside of all of us to be affirmed that we aren't completely out of our minds with our ideas. I'm learning pretty quickly that being a prophet can get you killed. If the ideas aren't important enough to kill your physical body, they'll try to kill your joy, self-confidence, passion, wonder, and concern.

This sort of tragic interaction doesn't just serve as an injustice against the young radical theologian (or the seasoned scholar). It robs the entire theological community of the prophetic witness that happens when young men and women have enough courage to push the boundaries and say what they think needs to be said. Even if disagreement remains at the end of the day, I wish we would all realize how much we need this radical witness. We need it because we might actually learn something.

The Beauty of William Stringfellow.

2012-01-12T22:11:00.007-05:00

Like most people, I first heard about William Stringfellow when I read Karl Barth's Evangelical Theology. Barth recalls his time in America by noting "I was with Billy Graham as well as with the conscientious and thoughtful New York attorney William Stringfellow, who caught my attention more than any other person" (ix). It was not until I attended AAR for the first time this past November in San Francisco that I finally purchased one of Stringfellow's books. I remember feeling a bit embarrassed as I realized that I had read almost a third of one of his books at the Wipf and Stock book table without paying first. Thus, my journey into the world of Stringfellow began. But it was not until I picked up Instead of Death that I realized why I appreciate this theologian as much as I do. One gets the sense when reading Stringfellow that he sincerely loves humanity. And he loves humanity as they are in all their simple fragility and complex brokenness. He is able to love so truly because Stringfellow understands that nothing separates him from the rest of his fellow humans beings. Indeed, Stringfellow knows his own weakness and offers a vulnerable theology that is nothing short of beautiful. These are some of my favorite excerpts from his work Instead of Death that I found the most memorable:

-- "Loneliness is the specific apprehension of a person of his or her own death in relation to the impending death of all persons and all things. Loneliness is the experience in which the fear of one's own personal death coincides with one's fright of death of everyone and everything else. Loneliness if not a unique or an isolated experience; on the contrary, it is the ordinary but still overwhelming anxiety that all relationships are lost. Loneliness does not deny or negate the existence of lives other than the life of the one who is lonely, but loneliness so vividly anticipates the death of such other lives that they are of no sustenance or comfort to the life and being of the one who suffers loneliness.

Loneliness is the most caustic, drastic, and fundamental repudiation of God. Loneliness is the most elementary expression of original sin. There is no one who does not know loneliness. Yet there is no one who is alone" (24-25).

-- "It is impossible to consider sex seriously in terms of the search for self without eventually confronting the promise of the gospel that the secret of personal identity for every person is found in Christ. It is just this - what it means to be human - that is the essential content of what the gospel affirms about sex. It is this and not the conventional denunciations, heard in so many churches, of sex as sin or of sex as something foul or dirty or animalistic. It is this and not surrender to the temptation to suppress sex and the subject of sex in the churches or, what is worse, the more common temptation to condone sex as long as it is discreetly practiced - condemning it only when it becomes a matter of scandal.

In other words, it is quite alright to mention sex in the sanctuary, just as it is also appropriate to speak with the Church of any other matter what occupies the attentions of the people in the world. The life and action within the sanctuary has integrity only insofar as it is concerned with and encompasses the life that takes place outside the sanctuary. Nothing that has ever been done in a bedroom, in the back seat of a car, or, for that matter, in a brothel is beyond the scope of the gospel and, therefore, beyond the Church's care for the world" (38-39).

-- "There really is no such thing as 'Christian marriage' as the term is commonly used. 'Christian marriage' is a vain, romantic, unbiblical conception. 'Christian marriage' is a fiction. There is not more an institution of 'Christian marriage' than there is a 'Christian nation' or a 'Christian lawyer' or a 'Christian athlete.' Even where such terms are invoked as a matter of careless formulation and imprecise speech, they are symptoms of a desire to separate Christians from the common life of the world, whereas Christians are called into radical involvement in the common life of the world. To be sure, there are Christians who are athletes and those who practice law, and there are Christians who are citizens of this and the other nations. But none of these or similar activities or institutions are in any respect essentially Christian, nor can they be changed or reconstituted in order to become Christian. They are, on the contrary, realities of the fallen life of the world. They are inherently secular and worldly; they are subject to the power of death; they are aspects of the present, transient, perishing existence of the world" (41).

-- "The biblical witness is always a witness of resistance to the status quo in politics, economics, and all society. It is a witness of resurrection from death. Paradoxically, those who embark on the biblical witness constantly risk death - through execution, exile, imprisonment, persecution, defamation, or harassment - at the behest of the rulers of this age. Yet those who do not resist the rulers of the present darkness are consigned to a moral death, the death of their humanness. That, of all the ways of dying, is the most ignominious" (101).

Small Thoughts on the Church.

2012-01-10T17:50:00.006-05:00

Most of my free mental capacity lately that isn't used up by modern European church history is spent thinking about the Church. This is partly due to the fact that I've been personally preoccupied with the topic since college, but also because of this blogpost I wrote last week asking numerous questions about the nature and the purpose of the Church.

A friend of mine told me to pick up Barth's God Here and Now and said it would be a very helpful resource. I only started to delve into its pages, but the part concerning the Church's relationship with the world proved to be the most interesting. Barth writes,

"The essence of the Church is the event in which the community is a light shining also into the world (whether understood by the world or not) as a living community, living in the sense that it hears and responds to God's Word, stands and delivers as the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, is on the move from baptism and goes toward the Lord's Supper. It is a question of the event in which this community, in the midst of the world, distinguishes itself from the world and thereby inevitably becomes offensive to the world in a particular way. It is a question of this community opening wide its doors and windows in order to truly share not in the fraud and especially not in the religious and moralistic illusions of its environment, but in its real concerns, needs, and tasks, that it may represent a calm center of lodging and reflection in contrast to the world's activity and idleness, and also in order to be, in this context, the source of prophetic unrest, admonition, and instigation, without which this transitory world can never endure. And before all else, this community must be open to the world in order to make visible, with its proclamation of the kingdom of God, the clear, but also severe limits of all human movement and effort, progress and regress, ascents and descents. The Church does not exist by pondering, studying, discussing, and preparing itself for this relationship to the world. The Church exists in actually accomplishing this relationship in each time with the appropriate sense of security, realism, and necessity. The consequence of this is that it may then make the appropriate human response also in this respect to the Word of God spoken to it. The word "Church" must point to this conduct of the Church in the world. Otherwise, the word is empty and points to some sort of darkness in which the real Church is not to be found."

- Karl Barth, God Here and Now, 81-82.

There is so much to embrace in Barth's understanding of the Church -- it is always an event and only exists in this "happening" of "gathering together" (77). Barth goes on to say that because the Church is the event of gathering, it is always a human reality in time. For this reason, the reality of the Church as a human reality means that its existence is only secured from one moment to the next "from above, only from God, not from below" (83). There is nothing the Church can do to secure its own existence apart from "the event of God's Word and Spirit" (83). The Church doesn't even exist when it pontificates about its relationship with the world like I'm probably doing right now.

I think all of this is incredibly beneficial to read, especially the understanding that the Church can do nothing to secure its own reality and only gathers as a response to what is first done in the event of revelation. Some might be very hesitant to embrace such a radical understanding of the nature of the Church because it really doesn't offer a place to stand. I mean, let's be honest, the Church really attempts to secure its own reality in a vast number of ways whether through its own subculture, the liturgy, or even seeking solidarity with the poor. There is a continual word of judgment in these pages that however we define Church, it must remain certain that there is nothing within the gathering that can initiate the coming of the One who exists entirely outside of us. Therefore, the Church can do nothing to be self-existent. Yet, the Church can still embrace "confidence in its continuance and stay" (83) since God promises to act through the revelatory event and also promises that He will create the very possibility for creatures to receive and understand this revelation (the nature of the revelatory event of God's command where creatures know how to act is parsed out more in CD II.2, paragraphs 36-39).

My main questions surface when Barth discusses the inevitable offensive nature of the Church. In the quote above, he writes that the Church "is a question of the event in which this community, in the midst of the world, distinguishes itself from the world and thereby inevitably becomes offensive to the world in a particular way." I have always wondered what it means to say that the Church is offensive to the world. When the world finds aspects of the Gospel (or the Gospel as defined by a particular group of persons) that are offensive to the world (and thereby rejected), the immediate response is one of comfort in knowing that the world finds this message offensive. If someone reacts negatively to Christians, it must be because the Gospel is promised to be offensive so the individual Christian or the Church is free from judgment. It almost seems to be a badge of honor when some Christians find that the world is offended by its message. But I often wonder if the world is offended by the Church's own idolatry. The Church is forever trying to distinguish itself from the world whether that be through what *it* does, or through what *it* does not do. And in this desire to distinguish itself from the world, it creates a religion of do's and don'ts that really has nothing to say to the world.

So I wonder if Barth's understanding of that which is offensive to the world might be offering a different notion of offense. But I can't seem to quite understand what Barth sees as the offense. Barth understands that the event of the gathering of the believers who have been awakened to their election in Jesus Christ are in the midst of the world. But they are distinguished from the world and thereby become offensive. So what distinguishes the Church from the world? I think the answer to that question profoundly shapes how one sees and understands the nature of the Church. I just haven't quite figured out the nature of that distinction yet.

Karl Barth and Oppression.

2012-01-08T22:05:00.007-05:00

I am often rather perplexed at the common impression within academia that Barth's theology has little relevance to suffering among the oppressed and marginalized. I have encountered many individuals who caricature Barth as a typical western, white, male theologian who has no concern for anything but theology as a pure intellectual exercise that is entirely detached from the needs and concerns of humanity. In God of the Oppressed, James Cone doesn't offer the same caricature by any means of Barth's theology but he asks this rather haunting question: "What could Karl Barth possibly mean for black students who had come from the cotton fields of Arkansas, Louisiana and Mississippi, seeking to change the structures of their lives in a society that had defined black as nonbeing?" (5) There are many other respected and revered theologians in addition to Cone who find little relevance within Barth's dogmatics to address their particular context of suffering and marginalization.

Sometimes when I read questions like those posed by Cone in relation to Barth's theology, I am tempted to think that Cone has the final word about Barth. The theology and ideas in the Church Dogmatics really have nothing of critical import for the suffering among the black community, oppressed women, and the struggling poor in Latin American countries. What does this mean for how Barth did theology and how should theologians living within the twenty-first century seek to correct Barth's woeful neglect of such critical concerns? Is the problem with Barth's theology per se or a lack of influential engagement within Barthian studies as a whole to parse out the connection between Barth's dogmatics and oppression within humanity?

These questions have really been on my mind all the more as I took a liberation theology course this past semester. I kept wondering what Barth could ever say to the countless voices I heard throughout the semester of individuals and communities who write theology from their context of poverty, oppression, discrimination, marginalization, and otherness. Then over Christmas break, I was really thankful to open up Eugene Rogers' Sexuality and the Christian Body to find a different understanding of Barth's theology than I usually found in my own experiences. Rogers laments the popular disconnection between dogmatics and various social issues: "...only too rarely do Christian ethicists connect doctrines like incarnation, election, and resurrection with race, gender, and orientation" (18). This quote is followed by a footnote that notes Karl Barth as an exception to the rule of such binaries. I stared at this footnote for quite some time wondering if I had read it correctly.

In short, I think Rogers is really onto something and he approaches the problems and questions surrounding the issue of sexuality from a dogmatic standpoint. I read the tremendous fruit that came from Rogers' methodology in this respect and wonder how much more could be done for the issues of oppression when they are informed by Barth's dogmatics and his revolutionary understandings of certain doctrines.

All of that is to say that I hope to write a series of blog posts over the next few weeks (if I can find enough time) to explore the connections I've made between Barth's dogmatics and various issues I've encountered and questioned this past semester. Most of these connections will be made through Barth's christology and how his particular understanding of the communication of attributes can critically and helpfully inform issues such as feminism and disability. It will be interesting to see what comes of it.

The Freedom of Theology

2012-01-06T22:06:00.004-05:00

This about sums it up. And it always will:

"When a man becomes involved in theological science, its object does not allow him to set himself apart from it or to claim independence and autarchic self-sufficiency. He has become involved in theology, even if his reasons for such involvement may have been very superficial, or indeed, utterly childish. Certainly, he never knew beforehand what a risk he was taking, and he will certainly never fully grasp this risk. But at any rate he has taken this step. He is a theologian because he finds himself confronted by this object. His heart is much too stubborn and fearful, and his little head much too weak, but he cannot merely dally or skirmish with this object. The consequences can no longer be avoided. This object disturbs him - and not merely from afar, the way a lightning flash on the horizon might disturb one. This object seeks him out and finds him precisely where he stands, and it is just there that this object has already sought him and found him. It met, encountered, and challenged him. It invaded, surprised, and captured him. It assumed control over him. As to himself, the light "dawned" on him, and he was ushered up from the audience to the stage. What he is supposed to do with this object has become wholly subordinate to the other question about how he must act now that this object obviously intended to have, and already has had, something to do with him. Before he knows anything at all, he finds himself known and consequently aroused and summoned to knowledge. He is summoned to re-search because he finds himself searched, to thinking and reflection because he hears someone speak to him long before he can even stammer, much less utter a coherent sentence. In short, he finds himself freed to be concerned with this object long before he can even reflect on the fact that there is such a freedom, and before he has made even an initial, hesitant, and unskilled use of it. He did not take part in this liberation, but what happened was that he was made a direct participant in this freedom."

- Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology, 75-76.

The Trinity and Gender Inclusive Language

2012-01-05T19:51:00.008-05:00

This is one of those posts that require me to conjure up enough courage after it is written to hit "publish." I have visions of losing friends and no one ever reading this blog again, haha. In all seriousness, this post involves a certain level of vulnerability and deep honesty. Those two things usually entail the risk of condemnation and rejection. But I hope that anyone who reads this post will give me the benefit of the doubt and enough charity to know that I struggle with this topic and need a place to openly process my thoughts and questions. I want to be checked and corrected by you, my dear faithful reader! But please keep in mind that my questions reveal a hesitancy about this topic instead of an outright rejection of sorts.

I've been in situations lately where groups of women have discussed the issue of using gender neutral pronouns in reference to the Trinity. Usually when these conversations happen, there is always the assumption that every woman automatically agrees that the only self-evident option is to use pronouns that empty any hint of supposed maleness from God's triune being (which assumes the biblical language ever intended for that in the first place). I even find myself very ashamed when I realize I'm still using masculine pronouns to refer to God in conversations with other academics, especially women.

As a woman and a feminist, the idea of voicing my hesitation to gender inclusive language in relation to the Trinity is enough to ensure I will be the outcast who will forever be chosen last for the team. There is no faster way to receive a response of bewilderment, confusion, suspicion, and even a hint of pity. If only you were really progressive and enlightened, you'd understand why women must encourage gender inclusive language when speaking about the Triune God, right?

Yet, I wonder. I share all the same concerns that these good feminists share. I am committed to the cause of women's liberation as much as the next woman. I've felt the oppression more than I'd like to admit and know the good fight is just beginning. In contrast to the author of this post, I don't think that women who are hesitant to gender inclusive trinitarian language are simply "theologically well-educated." There are much more theologically well-educated women who have fought the good fight before me who adamantly disagree with my hesitancy in abandoning the use of masculine pronouns in relation to the Trinity. The matter is far more complicated than reducing this issue to who has the better training or more education (and to be fair, Dr. Millinerd hints as much given his lengthy post on this topic!).

Here is the rub: for me, this is a methodological issue. God gives humanity permission to speak about God. Unless God revealed Godself to humanity, creatures could not know anything about God. All the Barthian blood that runs through my body becomes very nervous when any speech that Jesus uses in relation to himself or God the Father is assumed to be easily replaced with other human language. The language of Father, and Son, and the imagery therein reveal the essential relationship between the members of the Trinity. They neither automatically entail exclusion nor some understanding of the maleness of God's being.

So these are my questions: If this masculine biblical language is abandoned, are we compromising the fullness of God's revelation? Moreover, should Christians simply discard the language given in the biblical witness because it has been abused or is the very task of the Christian to redeem said language? What is really gained by discarding the language used in the biblical witness when we choose gender inclusive language (especially when using female pronouns)? Is the gain enough to warrant or justify such a replacement?

It should be noted that I am not assuming the answers to these questions. That is the entire purpose of this post. I'm wrestling with these important issues for methodological and gender reasons. And at the most basic level, what language should I use when I write and speak? But the careful reader might be genuinely offended at my subtle assumption: the burden of proof is upon the feminists and those choosing gender inclusive trinitarian language to justify abandoning traditional biblical names and pronouns when speaking about God. Again, as a Barthian, I am not opposed to theological revolutions. However, such revolutionary moves can only be done once both one has wrestled with the tradition and also remained faithful to an objective methodological orientation.

Well, I guess with that last sentence, all my cards are now on the table.

Theology and the Church.

2012-01-03T12:09:00.008-05:00

Massive disclaimer: This entire post contains genuine and sincere questions. I'd like answers.

Ever since I started studying theology, I hear all the time that theology must be for the Church. This was presented as a possible answer to my post below about theology and the academy. If theology is not "for the Church", then it is meaningless, self-indulgent, irrelevant, etc. Most with whom I have spoken who express such opinions think that theology disattached from the life and concerns of the Church would prefer silence to such selfish speech about God. What could be worse than one who claims to speak about God and only gives a damn about their own career ambitions? What kind of God could that person possibly be witnessing to if that God clearly has no conditioning upon that person's concerns?

I think I understand what people mean by this sentiment. And yet, I don't. What does it mean to say that theology is "for the Church" and "by the Church"? What do we mean when we say the word "Church"? Are we talking about our particular denomination, sect of Christianity, or the one holy, catholic, apostolic church? Does theology that is "for the Church" have concerns for those "outside" the Church, or would we prefer to offer less strict dichotomies between the Church (and "Christianity" for that matter) and the world (so that there is no "outside")? Is theology that is "for the Church" mean anyone can read it? Does it mean we teach Sunday school? Does it mean that we hand out free copies of our work?

Sometimes I think that those who say that theology should be "for the Church", especially those who actually do formal academic theology, only say so because they feel guilty saying anything else. But is the only positive reason for saying that theology is "for the Church" the fact that it is some kind of lip-service shield of sorts that protects you from looking like a complete fool? Nothing could be worse than admitting you don't do theology "for the Church." So if it is so important, why doesn't anyone really talk about what that phrase might actually mean? I want theology to be "for the Church". I really do.

Even more, if theology is "for the Church" then who is the Church for? Is it for itself? Is it for the poor? Is it for all sinners? And if the Church was actually defined (both in confession and action) in my own dearest hopes as those who find solidarity with the least of those in society then how should the questions we ask in theology be informed by this task?

Simply put, I have no idea what people mean when they say that theology should be "for the Church". I don't even really know what the word "Church" should mean.

That might be the entire problem.

Theology and the Academy.

2012-01-02T16:21:00.006-05:00

This past weekend I had the chance to spend New Years with one of my closest friends and her husband. As three academics, we spent most of the time talking about the academy and our respective goals, current research interests, and all of that. It was a relief to be with those who are not only the closest of friends, but who also understand my life so well.

Both of my friends are studying literature (broadly speaking). They love what they do. It is refreshing to find any academic who studies what they do because they simply love the subject matter. The conversation takes a different tone, and you actually learn from these sorts of academics.

We eventually got to the part in the conversation where we starting lamenting the state of the academy. Everything is about playing the game -- getting to the next phase, getting the recommendation, trying to prove you aren't a fraud (and spiraling into paranoia every few weeks that you know absolutely nothing about nothing and the fact that you even made it this far is some crazy stroke of luck that will never be explained!), trying to figure out what you want to write about for the next five years, hopefully finding enough adjunct positions to avoid living in a box with a change cup, and then hoping that someday, after all this toil, you might actually have the chance of getting tenure. Maybe by the time you are 45? This becomes all the more complicated to whatever extent when you are a woman -- when is the best time to get married? Have children? Thinking about this entire game for too long is enough to send you straight to your couch and drown in netflix instant streaming for a few hours to avoid the torturous thought of it all.

There came a point in the conversation where my friend disappointingly admitted that you just have to jump through all the hoops to get to where you want to be. I immediately wondered what this means specifically for theology. If I understand anything about my discipline correctly, it is that the object of theology's inquiry is God. As Christian theology, our discipline is particularly informed by Jesus Christ. He is the God-man who came to be one of us, and was murdered for our redemption and liberation, and conquered death through His resurrection. As a Christian and one who is interested in studying theology, my goal is to faithfully order my speech, thoughts, and actions after this Gospel of Jesus Christ.

With all of that said, what does that mean for why anyone studies theology and hopes to someday become a theologian? Do the rules and procedures change when the object of inquiry is God? What are we doing here if they don't? What does it mean that the object of inquiry is one that summons us to obedience, faithfulness, and worship? When the object is actually our Lord? My questions are not rooted in some desire to be pious. Please don't misunderstand me here. However, if the individual doesn't have an existential commitment to the object of theology, what is the point? And if one does have such an existential commitment to the object of theology, can one really find benefit (or purpose?) in ordering their speech, thoughts, and words after the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the academy specifically? Is the academy the best way to become a theologian? Is there a better way? Is it sheer romantic naivete to think one can study theology in the academy because they simply want to be a faithful witness to the Gospel?

I guess I've come to the conclusion that these questions really aren't to be shunned. If this whole theological enterprise has any meaning, I must ask these questions. And I need help in answering them.

Loneliness and David Foster Wallace.

2011-12-29T21:33:00.006-05:00

I stumbled across this fascinating interview with David Foster Wallace:

Interviewer: A phrase in one of your recent letters really struck me: “The magic of fiction is that it addresses and antagonizes the loneliness that dominates people.” It’s that suggestion of antagonizing the reader that seems to link your goals up with the avant-garde program—whose goals were never completely hermetic. And Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way seems to be your own meta-fictional attempt to deal with these large areas in ways that are not merely metafiction.

DFW: ”Aggravate” might be better than “antagonize,” in the sense of aggravation as intensification. But the truth is it’s hard for me to know what I really think about any of the stuff I’ve written. It’s always tempting to sit back and make finger-steeples and invent impressive sounding theoretical justifications for what one does, but in my case most of it’d be horseshit. As time passes I get less and less nuts about anything I’ve published, and it gets harder to know for sure when its antagonistic elements are in there because they serve a useful purpose and when their just covert manifestations of this “look-at-me-please-love-me-I-hate-you” syndrome I still sometimes catch myself falling into. Anyway, but what I think I meant by “antagonize” or “aggravate” has to do with the stuff in the TV essay about the younger writer trying to struggle against the cultural hegemony of TV. One thing TV does is help us deny that we’re lonely. With televised images, we can have the facsimile of a relationship without the work of a real relationship. It’s an anesthesia of “form.” The interesting thing is why we’re so desperate for this anesthetic against loneliness. You don’t have to think very hard to realize that our dread of both relationships and loneliness, both of which are like subdreads of our dread of being trapped inside a self(a psychic self, not just a physical self ), has to do with angst about death, the recognition that I’m going to die, and die very much alone, and the rest of the world is going to go merrily on without me. I’m not sure I could give you a steeple-fingered theoretical justification, but I strongly suspect a big part of real art fiction’s job is to aggravate this sense of entrapment and loneliness and death in people, to move people to countenance it, since any possible human redemption requires us first to face what’s dreadful, what we want to deny.

The entire interview can be found here.

Forgiveness of Sins and Divine Solidarity with the Oppressed.

2011-12-28T23:45:00.000-05:00

It has taken me longer than I'd like to admit to realize that the choice between progressive politics and traditional faith is a false dichotomy. Thankfully, there are many faithful examples to show that the task of theology necessarily includes prophetic witness to the cause of oppression (Stringfellow, Romero, Gutiérrez, Barth, etc.). As one who was raised in evangelicalism, the cause of the suffering and oppressed was not emphasized much. This general trend is no surprise and the neglect of global oppression is well-noted by liberation theologies. Yet, after taking a liberation theology course this past fall, I struggled with the binaries between the oppressor and the oppressed. I noticed the binaries even more at the liberation theology session this year at AAR. My continual experience of this forced dichotomy left me wondering if the only way forward is to abandon a commitment to the understanding that Jesus Christ died for sinners. In my own understanding, Jesus Christ is first priest, and from that mediation He becomes our liberation. However, this becomes all the more complicated when one realizes that most who are committed to Jesus Christ's primary office as our priestly Mediator (including much of the great tradition) don't see that liberation is a necessary consequence (either in speech or act). To me, liberation of the oppressed is neither optional nor a fashionable add-on to conjure up some sort of relevant Christianity. Thus, I feel very torn.

All of that background information serves to show the significance of the following excerpt. Hunsinger's words are a verbalization of all that I wanted to say, but could not for so long (and far better than I ever could). The only amendment I would make is that there are not only "good reasons" for connecting atonement for sin and divine solidarity with the oppressed, but rather necessary reasons. If this sort of objective theological orientation does not offer genuine freedom for the oppressed and suffering, what hope is there for humanity? It must always be said that the cause of liberation is a necessary and direct consequence of the forgiveness of sins. Parsing out this connection for the Church is the task of the theologian in the next century:

"During the last twenty-five years or so, the church has increasingly witnessed the emergence of victim-oriented soteriologies. The plight of victims, variously specified and defined, has been urged by prominent theologians as the central soteriological problem. It can scarcely be denied that the history of the twentieth century has pushed the plight of the victims to the fore. Nor can it be denied that the church has too often seemed ill-equipped to bring the plight of victims, especially victims of oppression and social injustice, clearly into focus for itself so that reasonable and faithful remedies might be sought. Victim-oriented soteriologies have undoubtedly made an important contribution to a better understanding of the church's social responsibility.

Polarizations and animosities have developed, however, to the extent that the plight of victims has displaced the soteriological plight of sinners, or even eclipsed it. Victim-oriented soteriologies have unfortunately tended to define the meaning of sin entirely in terms of victimization. Sin ceases to be a universal category. It attaches to perpetrators and to them alone. Since by definition victims qua victims are innocent of being perpetrators, they are to that extent innocent of sin. If sin attaches only to perpetrators, however, victims can be sinners only by somehow becoming perpetrators themselves (a move not unknown in victim-oriented soteriologies). Victim-oriented soteriologies, with their bipolar opposition between victims and perpetrators, display a logic with sectarian tendencies.

How the cross of Christ is understood by these soteriologies is also worth noting. The cross becomes meaningful because it shows the divine solidarity with victims, generally ceasing to find any other relevance, at least positively. (In extreme cases, the theology of the cross is trashed as a cause of victimization. But such denunciations, when meant de jure, exceed the bounds even of heterodoxy and so cease to be of constructive interest to the church.) The cross, in any case, is no longer the supreme intervention for the forgiveness of sins. It is not surprising that more traditional, sin-oriented soteriologies should react with unfortunate polarization. When that happens, however, sin as a universal category obscures the plight of oppression's victims, rendering that plight just as invisible or irrelevant as it was before. Atonement without solidarity seems to exhaust the significance of the cross, and forgiveness supposedly occurs without judgment on oppression.

The task of generous orthodoxy in this situation is to dispel the polarization by letting central truths be central, and lesser truths be lesser, but in each case letting truth be truth. No reason exists why the cross as atonement for sin should be viewed as logically incompatible with the cross as divine solidarity with the oppressed. Good reasons can be found for connecting them. The great, historical, ecumenical consensus remains, however, that the central significance of the cross, as attested by holy scripture, is the forgiveness of sins. This established consensus pervades every aspect of the church's life, not least including baptism and the Lord's Supper."

- George Hunsinger, "Social Witness in Generous Orthodoxy: The New Presbyterian 'Study Catechism'", 56.

Karl Barth and the Pastorate.

2011-12-17T17:59:00.005-05:00

As the semester came to a close this afternoon, I tried to figure out what to do with myself and all this new-found free time. I decided to take a break from reading and instead, started listening to an audio CD I rented from the library of Karl Barth in conversation with students when he gave his Warfield Lectures at Princeton Theological Seminary on May 2nd, 1962. I thought this particular exchange was rather wonderful:

Student: "What one thing, sir, would you tell a young pastor today if you were asked, is necessary in this day and age to pastor a Church?"

Barth: "Ah, so big a question! That is the whole question of theology, you see! I should say, I hope that during your studies you have visited yourself earnestly with the message of the Old Testament and of the New Testament. And not only of this message but also of the Object and the Subject of this message. And I would ask you, are you trained to visit not only yourself now, but a congregation with what you have learned out of the Bible and of church history and dogmatics and so on? Having to say something, having to say that thing. And then the other question: are you willing now to deal with humanity as it is? Humanity in this twentieth century with all its passions, sufferings, errors, and so on? Do you like them, these people? Not only the good Christians, but do you like people as they are? People in their weakness? Do you like them, do you love them? And are you willing to tell them the message that God is not against them, but for them? That's the one real thing in pastoral service and that is the question for you. If you go into ministry to do that work, pray earnestly. You'll do difficult work but beautiful work.

But if I had to begin anew for myself as a young pastor, I would tell myself every morning, well, here I am; a very poor creature, but by God's grace I have heard something. I will need forgiveness of my sins everyday. And I will pray, God, that you will give me the light, this light shining in the Bible and this light shining into the world in which humanity is living today. And then do my duty."

The Body's Grace

2011-12-13T14:09:00.007-05:00

This semester, I've had the joy of reading Rowan Williams' exquisite essay "The Body's Grace" more than once. For my ethics class, I signed up to lead discussion group for the week that the class discussed human sexuality and Williams' essay was assigned. Today, a dear friend of mine brought up Williams' essay during a conversation about human relationships. And it reminded me why I love Williams' words so much. During the group discussion a few weeks ago, other students were concerned that Williams does not offer clear standards for relationships. His seeming inclusivity became a worry that any type of relationship between two consenting individuals would be deemed acceptable. However, I actually thought that Williams offers an extremely exclusive picture of relationships since, ironically, his words are those of judgment over most human relationships that are embedded in a desire to control, manipulate, and dominate the other. But Williams compels others to see the radically fragile, life-giving, and beautiful nature of human relationships that are rooted in vulnerability. His essay goes beyond sexuality to describe what happens when two human agents seek to be in true relationship with one another. To know the other and let oneself be known is simultaneously the most terrifying yet grace-filled act human persons can choose. I'll let the good Archbishop tell you himself:

All this means, crucially, that in sexual relation I am no longer in charge of what I am. Any genuine experience of desire leaves me in something like this position: I cannot of myself satisfy my wants without distorting or trivialising them. But here we have a particularly intense case of the helplessness of the ego alone. For my body to be the cause of joy, the end of homecoming, for me, it must be there for someone else, be perceived, accepted, nurtured; and that means being given over to the creation of joy in that other, because only as directed to the enjoyment, the happiness, of the other does it become unreservedly lovable. To desire my joy is to desire the joy of the one I desire: my search for enjoyment through the bodily presence of another is a longing to be enjoyed in my body. ...

The discovery of sexual joy and of a pattern of living in which that joy is accessible must involve the insecurities of "exposed spontaneity": the experience of misunderstanding or of the discovery (rapid or slow) that this relationship is not about joy - these are bearable, if at all, because at least they have changed the possibilities of our lives in a way which may still point to what joy might be. But it should be clear that the discovery of joy means something rather more than the bare facts of sexual intimacy. I can only fully discover the body's grace in taking time, the time needed for a mutual recognition that my partner and I are not simply passive instruments to each other. Such things are learned in the fabric of a whole relation of converse and cooperation; yet of course the more time taken the longer a kind of risk endures. There is more to expose, and a sustaining of the will to let oneself be formed by the perceptions of another. Properly understood, sexual faithfulness is not an avoidance of risk, but the creation of a context in which grace can abound because there is a commitment not to run away from the perception of another.
- Rowan Williams, "The Body's Grace"

The Merciful Love of God.

2011-12-07T22:32:00.007-05:00

Read this. And then read it again.

The most merciful God has taken action on our behalf both in freedom and in power. In freedom: for our sin and guilt were not His and did not have to become so. Because this is so, faith believes in God's grace and election in virtue of which we receive what we have not deserved. But also in power: for He has really taken to Himself and removed from us our sin and guilt. Therefore faith is joy and gratitude, an assurance which can no longer look back, only forwards. In freedom and power, awakening a humble but assured and unshakable faith, He took our place because He was God's eternal Son, because it was manifest in Him that God's eternal being is mercy, because there is nothing more real and true behind and beyond this substitution, because this substitution is the very essence of God's own being, of His divinity, for which we must glorify Him in joy and gratitude if we are not to sin wantonly against Him, if we are to let God be God.

This, then, is how God loves. His love is merciful love. In the nature of the case, we do not need to emphasize the point that God is as merciful in Himself as He is merciful in His action. For the idea of mercy itself refers back from God's attitude and act to the depths of God's being, to His heart, His mind, Himself. All misunderstanding in regard to the idea of grace, as if it were not eternal in God Himself, becomes quite impossible when we have understood it as merciful grace. For it is then understood, not simply as God's turning towards us, but as His free, effectual compassion. Looking backwards, therefore, it is seen, not simply as an appearance, but as the disposition of the heart and being of God. Viewed as merciful grace the love of God descends to earth more deeply, and climbs higher to heaven, than the idea of grace in itself would permit us to suppose."

- Karl Barth, CD II.1, 374-375.

Photo Credit: Monica Rey

Grace.

2011-12-02T22:35:00.002-05:00

"Grace, strictly speaking, does not mean continuity but radical discontinuity, not reform but revolution, not violence but nonviolence, not the perfecting of virtues but the forgiveness of sins, not improvement but resurrection from the dead. It means repentance, judgment, and death as the portal to life. It means negation and the negation of the negation. The grace of God really comes to lost sinners, but in coming it disrupts them to the core. It slays to make alive and sets the captive free. Grace may of course work silently and secretly like a germinating seed as well as like a bolt from the blue. It is always wholly as incalculable as it is reliable, unmerited, and full of blessing. Yet it is necessarily as unsettling as it is comforting. It does not finally teach of its own sufficiency without appoint a thorn in the flesh. Grace is disruptive because God does not compromise with sin, nor ignore it, nor call it good. On the contrary, God removes it by submitting to the cross to show that love is stronger than death. Those whom God loves may be drawn to God through their suffering and be privileged to share in his sufferings in the world, because grace in its radical disruption surpasses all that we can imagine or think."

- George Hunsinger, Disruptive Grace: Studies in the Theology of Karl Barth, 16-17.

Nonviolent Resistance and Triumph Over Oppression.

2011-11-27T15:20:00.006-05:00

I can count on one hand how many times I've been so spiritually moved and humbled by someone's words. This simply leaves you speechless:

"I realize that [the nonviolent] approach will mean suffering and sacrifice. It may mean going to jail. If such is the case the resister must be willing to fill the jail houses of the South. It may even mean physical death. But if physical death is the price that a man must pay to free his children and his white brethen from a permanent death of the spirit, then nothing could be more redemptive. This is the type of soul force that I am convinced will triumph over the physical force of the oppressor."

- Martin Luther King, Jr., "The Rising Tide of Racial Consciousness" in I Have a Dream: Writings and Speeches that Changed the World, 69.

Barth's Romans.

2011-11-17T01:48:00.005-05:00

As I was attempting to switch places in my room to read this evening, I accidentally knocked over a book. When I picked it up, I realized the book I knocked over was Barth's infamous The Epistle to the Romans. I had to read this entire book in one week about two years ago for class. I flipped through to see all the markings as this was the second book I had ever read by Mr. Barth. But I stumbled across this particular excerpt at the end of chapter two, which includes lots of underlining and two words next to it: "so beautiful." And it still is:

Consequently, His action must be exercised invisibly and in a manner wholly contrary to our expectation. God does not live by the idea of justice with which we provide Him. He is His own justice. He is not one cause among many; He is not the final solution which we propound to the problem of life. Therefore His appearance is incomprehensible and without known occasion, and His judgment is according to His own justice. And yet, there is a claim to salvation from the wrath of God: the claim IS where every claim is surrendered and broken down by God Himself: where His negation is final and His wrath unavoidable; when God is recognized as God. The claim IS where the history of the relation between God and man begins; where there is no history to record, because it only occurs, and occurs eternally. The claim IS when men dare - but even this is no recipe for blessedness but only the eternal ground of its perception - to go forth into the fresh air and to love the undiscoverable God. And this occurrence IS - in Jesus Christ.

- Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, 76.

Women as Theologians?

2011-11-09T19:25:00.006-05:00

Given my limited time recently, it seems I only have the chance to post interesting excerpts I find from assigned readings. This post will be the same. But this text was particularly meaningful to me. I am currently pursuing my second masters degree and this is my fourth year of graduate studies. These past four years have been filled with a lot of interesting experiences as a female seeking a theological education. Without attempting to essentialize any specific qualities or traits, I continually find that I think very differently from my male peers. I process information differently, I learn differently, and I relate to others in theological conversations differently (and sometimes this difference is seen as negative). Since I have had very few female peers studying systematic theology at my previous school, I don't have any way to validate whether or not this is simply because I am not, in fact, a male or if this seeming alienation is a much more personal otherness that I alone inhabit. Regardless, I have felt like "the Other" as a woman studying theology both in more conservative and progressive circles.

One main way in which I feel different is the neutrality that men seemingly possess (and Shaw highlights this) when engaging the theological. Even if some men are particularly charismatic or impassioned, I find that there is still a level of neutrality and detachment that is considered proper, and good. But to me, my theological interests are a direct outworking of an existential commitment to Jesus Christ. Therefore, ideas and concepts are not merely interesting or intellectually stimulating, but radically shape and influence various parts of my life. And I welcome this integration. However, at times I have felt shamed for how emotionally and spiritually "attached" I am to the process of becoming a theologian.

In the following (lengthy) excerpt, Jane Shaw talks about the difficulties that women face when seeking to be theologians and how strict and oppressive binaries exist between men and women in relation to their respective identities as engendered thinkers. It was quite comforting to read a woman who articulates my questions, concerns, and struggles as one who constantly struggles to understand what it means to be a Christian, a woman, and an (aspiring) theologian:

We need to ask: how can women forge our identities as people of faith who are gendered as female and think about God? How is that possible when religious experiences and ideas have been read as mystical, as signs of possession or prophecy, as healing gifts, but not as theology? How do we retain all those vital elements of religious experience, profound components of our relationship with God, and at the same time write and speak theologically? In many ways I am asking an old question - how do we relate the life of the mind to the life of the spirit? - but I am adding the twist of gender. Is it possible for women, constructed as 'feminine', to incorporate and embrace all these elements: the spiritual, the intellectual, and embodied religious experience More fundamental than the question of the possible compatibility of feminism and Christianity is this complex set of questions about the (in)compatibility of being a woman, a thinker and a person of Christian faith ...

How then is it possible for women to have a subject position such that we can think, speak and write theologically, and simultaneously have a spiritual life which is healthily connected to the psyche, body and emotions, when the characteristics of woman have been constructed as incompatible with the qualities which constitute an apparently legitimate theologian; that is, male, rational, often clerical, disembodied and supposedly neutral? The poststructuralist critique of an Enlightenment, rational, self is helpful for women (and others constructed as being on the side of irrationality) because it lays bare the ways in which human beings have been constructed as 'female' and 'male', as embodied and disembodied, as feelers and thinkers, as those who experience God in an emotional way and as those who can think and write about God in a systematic way. Such a critique shows that qualities apparently required for the writing of theology are only arbitrarily assigned to women rather than to men, though that arbitrariness is deeply associated with the wielding and retention of power. Who gets to speak and write publicly about God is a political matter; it is about power. Conversely, the association of woman with the body and emotions, whereby our experiences of God are assigned to the realm of mysticism, possession and the like, rather than formal theology, is also at one level arbitrary and at another level thoroughly related to the exercise of power. ...

Such a rethinking of and through our identities is necessary if we are not to fall into the kind of crisis which befell Bondi when, in order to write theologically, she tried to take on the male rational subject position and ignored the emotional, the spiritual and the embodied. In this process of rethinking, I do not imagine that we shall arrive at any easy compatibility between feminism and Christianity, and I do not think that that should be our goal. I shall never find myself agreeing with all the church's doctrines and political positions, and yet I can still find myself spiritually nourished and sustained by regular attendance at worship and participation in Christian communities. Furthermore, by suggesting alternative understandings of, and roles for, men and women, in presenting our experiences and thinking about God as theology, and in trying to integrate the rational, the spiritual and the embodied, we shall be challenging the 'status of those who are charged with saying what counts as true' (Foucault) in our Christian communities and in the church at large. This is not a comfortable position to be in: the incompatibilities and conflicts may seem impossible at times. But staying with such a stance is a matter of faith if we believe that the gospel calls us to build the kingdom of heaven on earth, to seek justice in all that we do, because God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son. And so finally I ask not whether Christianity is viable for feminists, but whether Christianity is viable without feminists and the multiple voices, work and perspectives of other marginalized groups; whether the church can, in good conscience, fail to acknowledge that such work is indeed theology?

- Jane Shaw, "Women, Rationality and Theology" in Swallowing a Fishbone? Feminist Theologians Debate Christianity, 59, 63-65.

The Poor and the Kingdom of God.

2011-11-08T19:40:00.002-05:00

"Blessed are you poor for yours is the Kingdom of God" does not mean, it seems to us: "Accept your poverty because later this injustice will be compensated for in the Kingdom of God." If we believe that the Kingdom of God is a gift which is received in history, and if we believe, as the eschatological promises - so charged with human and historical content - indicate to us, that the Kingdom of God necessarily implies the reestablishment of justice in this world, then we must believe that Christ says that the poor are blessed because the Kingdom of God has begun: "The time has come; the Kingdom of God is upon you" (Mark 1:15). In other words, the elimination of the exploitation and poverty that prevent the poor from being fully human has begun; a Kingdom of justice which goes even beyond what they could have hoped for has begun. They are blessed because the coming of the Kingdom will put an end to their poverty by creating a world of fellowship. They are blessed because the Messiah will open the eyes of the blind and will give bread to the hungry. Situated in the prophetic perspective, the text in Luke [6:20] uses the term poor in the tradition of the first major line of thought we have studied: poverty is an evil and therefore incompatible with the Kingdom of God, which has come in its fullness into history and embraces the totality of human existence.

-- Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation, 170-171.

Barth's Actualistic Ontology.

2011-11-07T15:36:00.002-05:00

This "true profundity", as Nimmo calls it in the following lucid excerpt, is why I appreciate Barth's theology as much as I do. There is no other God except the God revealed in Jesus Christ. This is the good news of the Gospel. God is truly with us and for us in the person and work of Jesus Christ. It is times when you stumble across passages like these when study quickly becomes doxology:

"Barth's actualistic ontology goes far beyond the dynamism of God as a Being in act, however: the true profundity of his actualistic ontology lies in the statement that God in Godself is 'not another than He is in His works'. The true identity of God, in other words, is revealed in the works of God. In the act of revelation, posits Barth, God declares the reality of God: 'not only His reality for us - certainly that - but at the same time His own, inner, proper reality, behind which and above which there is no other'. The ways and works of God thus correspond perfectly to the being of God - the essence of God to the existence of God."

- Paul Nimmo, Being in Action: The Theological Shape of Barth's Ethical Vision, 7.

The Question is the Answer.

2011-11-05T23:14:00.003-04:00

I'm preaching for the first time in my life tomorrow morning as I am a chaplain at a psychiatric hospital. I'm planning to preach on God's solidarity with the poor, oppressed, helpless, and hopeless through His own experiences in the suffering of Jesus Christ's life and death. I have experienced a wide range of emotions this week, but I've gleaned a lot of comfort from Karl Barth's writings on the task of preaching the Word of God. Here's something that was particularly meaningful to me amidst my preparation:

"Our questions about human life, even in their highest forms, are mere questions to which the answers sought are additional and must be matched to them. But as the Bible takes these questions, translating them into the unescapable question about God, one simply cannot ask of hear the "question" without hearing the answer. The person who says that the Bible leads us to where finally we hear only a great No or see a great void, proves only that he has not yet been led thither. This No is really Yes. This judgment is grace. This condemnation is forgiveness. This death is life. This hell is heaven. This fearful God is a loving father who takes the prodigal into his arms. The crucified is the one raised from the dead. And the explanation of the cross as such is eternal life. No other additional thing needs to be joined to the question. The question is the answer."

- Karl Barth, "The Need of Christian Preaching" in The Word of God and the Word of Man, 120.

Native theology.

2011-10-11T08:57:00.004-04:00

For the past two weeks, my ethics class has been reading Barth (among many other sources) in an attempt to ask the following questions: can the good be known and done? Are some human actions intrinsically evil? For Barth, that which guides human actions is the command of God. All ethics are rooted here. Barth maintains this position with astonishing consistency even when considering the issue of protecting human life. He will never concede to a type of absolutism concerning ethical questions since this would fail to recognize God as Lord over the creature and the person of faith in Jesus Christ must continually remain open to hearing the command of God throughout their life. It is rather liberating yet offers troubling instability. But this is the beauty, in a very real way, of Barth, right? He offers this vision of the Christian life that includes continual dependence and tension that very much accords with the reality of faith. However, if I may be so honest, while this perspective was welcomed, it also caused a great deal of anxiety. When I read that the ethical life is rooted in the command of God, the Canaanite genocide immediately came to mind. This was a direct result of the command of Yahweh to His people, Israel. If I am to remain forever open to the command of God, must I be open to this same sort of atrocity in order to genuinely maintain that I am indeed the creature and God is Lord? And to answer this angst, must I preserve an analogy of being so I can "rationally" maintain that God would never command anything of this sort since it doesn't accord with what I believe as a Christian? Some might say that we should now look to Jesus Christ, for here we see where God is truly revealed - the God for us, for all humanity, the perpetual YES to all creatures. But how can even this be an answer to my initial question if Jesus Christ is the promised Messiah and a fulfillment of the very covenant made between Yahweh and the people of Israel. Is Yahweh not the same God revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ? These are basic questions, but I can never get away from them.

And I was reminded today precisely why the Church can't get away from them. I was reading about Native feminist theology (though there really isn't such a thing for the most part) for my liberation theology class and was struck by this immensely challenging excerpt:

Even if we distinguish the 'liberation' church from mainstream churches, the challenge brought forth by Native scholars and activists to other liberation theologians would be, Can a 'liberation' church escape complicity in Christian imperialism? Deloria in particular raises the challenge that Christianity, because it is a temporally rather than a spatially based tradition (that is, it is not tied to a particular landbase but can seek converts from any landbase), is necessarily a religion tied to imperialism because it will never be content to remain within a particular place or community: 'Once again religion becomes specific to a group, its nature also appears to change, being directed to the internal mechanics of the group, not to grandiose schemes of world conquest.' Hence, all Christian theology, even liberation theology, remains complicit in the missionization and genocide of Native peoples in the Americas ...

Robert Warrior's germinal essay, 'Canaanites, Cowboys, and Indians,' furthers Deloria's analysis by again troubling liberatory potential in many of the theological assumptions of liberation theology. In this essay, Warrior argues that the Bible is not a liberatory text for Native peoples, especially considering the fact that the liberation motif commonly adopted by liberation theologians - the Exodus - is premised on the genocide of the indigenous people occupying the Promised Land - the Canaanites. Warrior does not argue for the historical veracity of the conquest of the Canaanites. Rather, the Exodus operates as a narrative of conquest, a narrative that was foundational to the European conquest of the Americas. Warrior's essay points not only to the problems with the Exodus motif but also to liberation theology's conceptualization of a God of deliverance. He contends that 'as long as people believe in the Yahweh of deliverance, the world will not be safe from Yahweh the conqueror.'

- Andrea Smith, "Native Feminist Theology" in Liberation Theologies in the United States, 149-150.

I immediately felt the weight of the sin of the Church when I read this excerpt. No matter what one believes about the Hebrew Bible and the Canaanite genocide, the genocide of the Native American peoples can never be justified. But I ask, how can I make that statement given the fact that this excerpt above offers some very real questions to my struggles with Barth's grounding of the ethical life in the command of God?

If I get time for it, I want to explore the supposed incompatibility between Native theology and Christianity given Smith's omission in this essay that there is no essentialism upheld in Native American understanding of their culture. Rather, the culture and their identity is seen through the lens of performativity. In light of this, I think a proper understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the mission of the Church lends itself to being genuinely good news for the Native peoples.

Torture and the Imago Dei.

2011-10-09T17:55:00.008-04:00

For my Christian ethics class, we are examining the question whether the ends can justify the means in human action. This question is being asked from the side of the practical by analyzing the issue of torture. We were assigned to read five sources about the issue of torture; two in support of the practice (obviously with qualifications) and three against the practice. I assumed it wouldn't be that difficult to do the reading for this week given the move away from theory toward concrete issues. But reading about torture is no easy task. Even if one is against torture from the outset, the hypothetical and emotionally-manipulative scenarios that the pro-torture side provide are difficult. Afterall, doesn't everyone want to secure the end of perserving thousands of innocent lives in the face of an imminent threat? That is why I was grateful to read the following passage from an ecumenical project against torture. George Hunsinger, in his essay entitled "Torture is a Ticking Time Bomb", provides a necessary theological account for why torture is never an acceptable option for Christians even in the face of imminent acts of terror. He distinguishes between three types of torture: interrogational, terroristic, and demonic. None are ultimately effective and only dehumanize both the torturer and the tortured. In his section describing "demonic torture", Hunsinger offers a moving account for why all forms of torture can never be justified:

"For something to become an absolute end in itself means that it has usurped a
status that does not belong to it. The place belonging to God and God alone can
be only seized by the human creature in the form of a monstrous caricature. The
power of love is replaced by loveless power, compassion for the weak by sadistic
cruelty, fair treatment by demonic subjugation, respect for life by the meanest
contempt. Demonic torture is essentially destructive in its brutal self-elevation and self-justification. It proceeds at the expense of all legitimate obligations and norms. Its needs, its pleasures, and its purposes are carried out by shattering the essential humanity of another.

When Christians appeal to the image of God in their arguments against torture, they
are not, properly speaking, merely adding a religious patina to the concept of
human dignity. They are pointing to the ultimate meaning of human life. From
Bonhoeffer through Barth to recent Catholic theology, the doctrine of the imago
Dei has been reconceived in terms of relationality instead of the traditional
rationality. It is human relationality as such that stands in analogy to the
Holy Trinity, and therefore to the ultimacy of community. For the Trinity is
itself a holy communion of love and freedom, joy and peace. Human creatures
receive the vocation and the gift of living with God and one another on these
terms.

When torture is conducted as an end in itself, and is therefore become demonic -when the purpose of power is power, and the purpose of cruelty is cruelty, when torture's purpose is tyrannical subjugation and sadistic degradation - then the divinely given meaning of life is unspeakably distorted and destroyed. The relation of the torturer to the tortured, and of the tortured to the torturer, makes a travesty of the most basic relations given by heaven to earth. In so degrading the human being and human community, torture blasphemes against God, neighbor, and self."

George Hunsinger, "Torture is the Ticking Time Bomb" in Torture is a Moral Issue: Christians, Jews, Muslims, and People of Conscience Speak out, 68.

Subordinationism Revisited.

2011-10-08T14:42:00.013-04:00

Earlier today, I received a comment on my post "Barth and Subordinationism" from Tyler Wittman who blogs at Eremos (forgive me, I can't figure out how to put the proper accent in his blog's name). I have never done this before, but I decided to post my reply to Tyler's comment in an entirely new post. I truly don't mean any disrespect to Tyler by posting this exchange. Rather, I'm doing this because I really believe that it is important to properly interpret not only Bruce McCormack's remarks in his recent Kantzer lectures given last week at Wheaton, but also for correctly understanding the Christian tradition in relation to trinitarian theology. Tyler's remarks offer a great opportunity to clarify some prevailing misunderstandings in evangelicalism which I believe Bruce McCormack helpfully highlighted and corrected in his Kantzer lectures. You will have to read my initial post on Barth and subordinationism to gain a full understanding of the context for Tyler's comment and my response. Without further ado ...

Tyler's Comment:

I understand where Giles is coming from, but this doesn't suffice as a sound argument.

First, the simplistic equation of authority structures within the Godhead with the heresy of subordinationism is uncharitable and unsustainable. Bruce McCormack recently made a similar accusation towards Wayne Grudem and Bruce Ware that simply smacks of misunderstanding. There is more rhetoric than substance here. The heresy of subordinationism maintained that there was an ontological inequality amongst the three persons. Evangelicals like Grudem and Ware (and ostensibly Smail) advocate no such heresy. People like Giles simply don't want to grant that the persons of the Godhead can be functionally subordinate but ontologically equal. In effect, they want to equate function and ontology, but ...

This is perhaps the most damning mistake I see Giles making, and it's a 'Feuerbachian slip' (to use Vanhoozer's phrase). The implicit assumption is that submission to authority equals inequality. This is a cultural, and not a biblical, value. This is the canon, if you will, for scholars like Giles who hastily categorize opponents into the heresy of the first three centuries. What Giles leaves out is that those divine persons (like the Son and Spirit) who are subordinate are not subordinate simpliciter, and therefore ontologically. Rather, they are eternally, yet freely subordinate. He's making the relationships passive, when in fact, they are active. The Son has authority to lay his life down and to take it back up, but he freely obeys the Father's (eternal!) will and lays it down.

Thus the equation of function and ontology cannot accomplish what Giles desires if our ears are attuned to the biblical witness.

My Response:

Tyler, If I may be so bold without trying to sound rude, I think your interpretation of Bruce McCormack's Kantzer lectures concerning the views of Grudem and Ware "simply smacks of misunderstanding." I am not sure where to start by way of response so I will begin with your interpretation of McCormack's views. I will examine McCormack's views more closely than Giles as such an examination will help to address the heart of the issue more fully (ironically enough, I was pleased when McCormack mentioned and positively affirmed Giles' work on this subject).

1. McCormack's "accusation" is only lacking in charity and cannot be sustained if it is baseless and without good evidence. If McCormack is indeed correct in categorizing Grudem and Ware as subordinationists in the way he explain based upon the tradition as such, then claiming the opposite would in fact be uncharitable and unsustainable. I think McCormack went out of his way to take Grudem and Ware's positions seriously and provided a detailed and carefully researched critique.

2. When I listened to the Kantzer lecture, I heard quite a different line of argument from McCormack. He maintained that Ware and Grudem presuppose a Social Trinitarian understanding of the Trinity when they construct their notions of the relationship(s) between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Social trinitarianism is based upon the idea that each person of the Trinity (and the term person is key here) has their own mind, will, and mode of operation. What makes them unified is that they share the same essence. Thus, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit harmoniously work together in order to secure the same end and purpose. McCormack argued that this presupposed model of the Trinity, which is a development of 19th century Catholic theology, is not the same model presupposed by the Nicaean fathers. Thus, the egalitarianism among the members of the Trinity is "functional" as McCormack noted. But McCormack argued quite well that such an understanding is a modern theological import to Nicaea and not compatible both with the Christian orthodox tradition or with the biblical witness that testifies to One God. The fathers understood that in order to avoid committing the error of maintaining tritheism in their Trinitarian theology and also a hierarchy of beings (as both McCormack and Giles properly note), they could not simply adhere to "functional egalitarianism." Thus, they maintained that the Father, Son, and Spirit were not merely one in essence but also in mind, will and operation ("principle of inseparable of operation"). It is fine if Ware and Grudem want to argue that the Son has a different will than the Father, which he willfully submits from all eternity, but this is not the understanding of Nicaea. Disagreement with the council of Nicaea has been termed "heresy" by the Christian tradition. McCormack maintains the position that the Son's submission to the Father is one of voluntary, self-submission since he applies "the principle of inseparable operation". Therefore, the submission is not passive at least from McCormack's standpoint (though Giles doesn't seem to support this passivity either given the overall theme of his essay). Moreover, egalitarians fear that such an "eternal" understanding of submission would necessarily equate to subordinationism but that is simply because they are working from within a social Trinitarian framework. Which takes me to my next point ...

3. Ironically enough, both egalitarians and complimentarians use the Social Trinitarian model to support their respective commitments to gender relations. But I think this reminds us that the Trinity is wholly unique and cannot be used as a model to support gender relations between men and women. It is a misplaced analogy also because social trinitarianism essentially equates to tritheism. To maintain that there are three distinct minds and wills yet one substance and then say there is not a hierarchy of beings is simply "fundamentally incoherent" as McCormack argued. McCormack does not seem to be concerned with defending the Nicaean tradition in the way he does because he has a stake in the gender debate. In fact, McCormack even said off the cuff in the Q&A that he does not adhere to any metaphysical notions of "manhood" or "womanhood." But this is rooted, it seems, in his post-metaphyical commitments rather than any prior commitment to the feminist agenda.

4. I don't think Giles is so much concerned with the gender debate either. But sometimes it is necessary to show, as he does in his article, that using the Trinitarian model to support a specific view of gender relations is problematic. I realize that I can't use the Trinity to support my understanding that men are women are ontologically equal and submission in the way it is conceived my complimentarians compromises such equality. To maintain anything less is also fundamentally incoherent and simply saying that it isn't and then pointing to the biblical witness to say they maintain the same isn't helpful. This understanding of complimentarianism is also rooted in a metaphysical understanding of the genders which I find unbiblical.

5. McCormack and Giles' point seem to be that the biblical witness testifies to the revelatory understanding that the Church confesses one God who is revealed in the eternal relations as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Therefore, subordinationism as conceived by Ware and Grudem compromise monotheism.

6. This issue, in the end, doesn't seem to be McCormack's unconscious Feuerbachianism, but rather who interprets the Christian tradition - particularly Nicaea - correctly. Moreover, you might maintain that the tradition interprets Scripture incorrectly. That is an entirely new debate and one that might be worth having as good Protestants do.

P.S. McCormack's position is hardly new. In fact, during the Q&A session of one of John Webster's Kantzer lectures, he noted that the pactum salutis must be conceived and explained very carefully if there is not an unintentional support of competing wills between the Father and the Son (hinting that anything less would support tritheism). McCormack noted the difficulty of competing wills in the penal substitution model of the atonement at the Croall lectures this past year since this would mean that the innocent Son is suffering at the hands of the vindictive Father. But the problem only arises to a very real extent when the Father and Son have competing wills. Thus, it is rightly understood as a self-sacrifice since the Father and the Son share but one will.

Butler on Gender and Barth on Suicide.

2011-10-02T19:59:00.002-04:00

Bizarre title, eh? They are connected. But be patient, dear reader, for it might take a while to explain said connection.

This afternoon I rented Judith Butler's preeminent Gender Trouble from the library. I read most of the first chapter by the time I walked from the library to my dorm room. It was truly engrossing. Butler's basic argument is that historically speaking, feminism has not questioned the content of the term "women" as the subject of emancipation in gender politics. Feminism has wrongfully assumed that there is universality to the term "women" that transcends the particularity of culture, class, race, etc. As such, feminism has unintentionally created "domains of exclusion" which produce "coercive and regulatory consequences" (6). Butler goes even further to say that not only does sex not determine one's gender, but even the category of sex itself is constructed by society. Thus, "it does not follow that the construction of 'men' will accrue exclusively to the bodies of males or that 'women' will interpret only female bodies. Further, even if the sexes appear to be unproblematically binary in their morphology and constitution (which will become a question), there is no reason to assume that genders ought also to remain as two" (9). At this point, Butler can make the reader a bit uncomfortable as Butler begins to question axioms which are generally unquestioned by society as a whole namely the very existence of a binary sex system: "And what is 'sex' anyway? Is it natural, anatomical, chromosomal, or hormonal, and how is a feminist critic to assess the scientific discourses which purport to establish such 'facts' for us? ... if the immutable character of sex is contested, perhaps this construct called 'sex' is as culturally constructed as gender" (9). Some might be fearful that such a lack of universality in relation to a definition of "women" might prohibit political action. But Butler insists that "unity" traditionally conceived as solidarity might not be necessary for the political ends feminists hope to achieve.

I welcomed most of what Butler had to say in the first chapter. The conception of "womanhood" and "manhood" seems to depend entirely upon a metaphysical understanding of sex that I don't find helpful, compelling, nor even biblical. One doesn't have to think very hard to recognize that most of what constitutes "masculinity" and "femininity" both within society and the Church is almost entirely culturally constructed. And most individuals spend their lives either consciously or unconsciously trying to live up to these imposed standards. Sometimes they can become excessively oppressive and violent, for these standards expose one's own supposed shortcomings and particularities that are undesired by society at large.

Despite my relief at Butler's conclusions, I found implicit in Butler's words an understanding that the human subject is utterly sovereign and this allows one to determine their own sex and gender free from any external standard. Any external standard that does not take into consideration one's own particular culture and personal experience is violent and imperialistic. I wondered how I could possibly agree with these basic modern assumptions considering the fact that I confess to be a Christian and acknowledge the truth that Jesus Christ is Lord over my life. Butler makes conclusions about gender based upon Butler's own understanding of the autonomy of the human subject. As a Christian, I agree with a lot of Butler's conclusions because of what God has revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ. In light of the Incarnation, all humanity is defined by Jesus Christ as the second Adam. There is no distinction in Jesus Christ, but rather all are one.

A few hours later, I started reading Karl Barth for my ethics class. I was assigned to read a section entitled "The Protection of Life" where Barth eventually begins to speak about suicide. Barth, with very sensitive and careful prose, writes about the struggle involved when anyone considers taking their own life. Barth writes that one who is tempted to take one's own life does not need the law but rather the Gospel. And in the Gospel, one finds the truth that

"we must live. To will it is to will what we are permitted. It is to will in the freedom in which man is not sovereign or solitary, but always has God above him as the Creator, Giver and Lord of his life. Why do we want to be sovereign and solitary, so that in some way we come to see nothing but emptiness around us, and become desperate, and finally have to contemplate suicide? These things, i.e. sovereignty, solitariness, emptiness and despair, are necessary only if we must live, if life is not the freedom bestowed by God. They are necessary only if we are charged to help ourselves, if pressure is exerted from some quarter to take life into our own hands, to be our own masters, to make something significant of ourselves, to justify, sanctify, save and glorify ourselves, and therefore to have to recognise at some point and in some way that we cannot really succeed in doing this. But this supposition is false. For God is gracious to us. It thus follows that we may live, and that, since He is God, we are able to live by the fact that He is gracious. We can simply accept the fact that He is sovereign and not we" (CD, III.4, 80).

I will assume that to Butler, this entire passage is dripping with violence and imperialism. But must the Christian not grapple with the radical notion and claim that we offer to society when we witness to the truth that real freedom does not come from being autonomous and sovereign over one's own being, but rather recognizing the reality that God has a claim over all of humanity regardless of any distinction as Lord, Redeemer, Reconciler and Creator? In short, I wondered if Butler's entire project is possible from a radical christocentric methodology. Or must I admit to the fact that such a methodology is undesirable to most since Christianity will always be seen as inherently violent and oppressive by the non-Christian because it claims from first to last that the individual is not the captain of their own soul?

Barth and Subordinationism.

2011-09-20T19:45:00.006-04:00

I went into the Princeton Theological Library today only intending to find one specific book. Before I knew it, I made my way to the printed journals and starting perusing one after another. Note to self: this is a horrible time killer. Per usual, I picked up the Scottish Journal of Theology and immediately flipped to Kevin Giles' article entitled "Barth and Subordinationism". At first glance, the charge of subordinationism against Barth seemed rather odd. Many of Barth's notable conservative North American evangelical critics have always critiqued Barth as being a modalist. Apparently, a trend has emerged among a few global conservative evangelical scholars who have used Barth to support their view of the eternal subordination of the Son. I was completely puzzled before I even began reading the article. How could this be? Modalism is a charge that in some ways is understandable to some (small?) degree, though ultimately incorrect in my opinion (modes of being, anyone?). But subordinationism not only would threaten Barth's entire christocentric project (this is truly and fully God present in the person of Jesus Christ), but it would make him a tritheist to whatever extent. What is even more troubling and interesting to me is that these same scholars are trying to further the cause of the eternal subordination of the Son to justify their complimentarian view of the female gender. Just as Jesus Christ is supposedly eternally subordinate to the Father, women are also eternally subordinate to men. However, such subordination does not mean ontological inequality (Sidenote: Giles notes that this heresy of eternal subordinationism is ironically being championed as orthodoxy within such circles, which is a fascinating piece of theological amnesia!). I can not recall how frequently I have heard some evangelical pastors preach growing up that even though Adam and Eve were fully made in the imago Dei and possess ontological equality, they have distinct roles. Women are to submit and be subordinate to men. And men are supposed to serve as Christ-like leaders (taken most often from Ephesians 5). In some circles, it is explicitly stated that Adam was made for God while Eve is made for Adam. Therefore, the woman is to always concern herself with supporting and furthering the purpose of her husband. I should note here that the article didn't grab my attention for its details concerning Barth's trinitarian theology, but rather what Giles says about the use of subordinationism in trinitarian theology to further the subordination of women. I really appreciated his words on this trend as it clearly articulates my personal concerns with the implications of such female subordination, namely that it logically equates to ontological inequality between the genders:

"These often undeveloped and passing claims that Barth teaches the eternal subordination and obedience of the Son in the Godhead in mainline scholarly works now find frequent expression in conservative evangelical literature promulgating 'male headship'. The argument that the eternal subordination of the Son explains and theologically grounds the permanent subordination of women is now endemic in socially conservative evangelicalism, and in recent years Barth has been frequently quoted in support. For example, in Australia Robert Doyle says Barth teaches 'the eternal relation subordination' of the Son, while Mark Baddeley says much the same. He argues that for Barth God the Father eternally commands and God the Son eternally obeys, adding that 'Barth rejects a purely economic submission as modalism'. In Great Britain this appeal to Barth in support of the eternal subordination of the Son is also found in writings by evangelicals committed to the permanent subordination of women. For Example, Thomas Smail in his book, Like Father, like Son, argues that the Son of God is eternally subordinated in function and authority to the Father, apart from ontological subordination, and he claims Barth as the basis for his views. For him the Father is 'sovereign' and what is proper to sonship, human and divine, is 'obedience'. He says 'God the Father is the prototype of leadership'. In Smail, and most other conservative evangelicals who argue for the permanent subordination of women, the governing premise is that it is possible to have permanently ascribed functional subordination and ontological equality. I think not. If one is permanently subordinated solely because of one's sex, race or divine identity then the subordinated party is not only subordinated in role or function: they are the subordinated sex, race or divine person. Simply denying this does not alter this fact. What must be recognised is that in this usage the terms 'role' and 'function' do not refer to characteristic behaviour that can change and is not person defining, as a dictionary would suggest, but to unchanging power relations, who rules and who obeys. The terms 'role' and 'function' are used to obfuscate what is actually being argued: the Son of God is eternally subordinated in authority to the Father and this hierarchical ordering prescribes the permanent subordination in authority for women."

- Kevin Giles, "Barth and Subordinationism", Scottish Journal of Theology 64 (3): 327-346 (2011).

Edwards and Barth on God's Holiness.

2011-09-19T20:55:00.007-04:00

I was assigned to read an essay by Nicholas Wolterstorff entitled "Liturgy, Justice, and Holiness". Wolterstorff discusses the unseeming but necessary connection between the recognition of God's holiness and the pursuit of justice that takes expression in the liturgy. In the first part of the essay, Wolterstorff explores the view of God's holiness from the perspective of two prominent theologians: Jonathan Edwards and Karl Barth.

Wolterstorff explains that Edwards maintained that God's holiness compels human creatures to love God and it is the very holiness of God which serves as grounds for our love of God. Holiness, above all else, draws the creature to the Creator. In short, it should come as no surprise that Edwards believed that holiness is "the totality of God's moral excellencies." Prior to reading this essay, I knew that I was not fond of Edwards conception of God. But this essay helped to clarify my disagreements more sharply. The entire time that I was reading this small excerpt regarding Edwards, I kept thinking God's love and not God's holiness reveals the essence of God's inner being. God's love and holiness are not opposed, but the latter is a manifestation of the former. Edwards maintained the opposite.

Thankfully, Wolterstorff immediately turned to Barth for a necessary "step beyond" Edwards in order to offer a better understanding of God's holiness (though I would say this is not merely an addition but a reorientation). Wolterstorff writes,

Karl Barth, in his discussion of God's holiness, enables us to take a necessary step beyond Edwards. Rather than seeing God's holiness as the totality of God's moral excellencies, Barth sees God's holiness as a facet of God's grace; and God's grace he sees, in turn, as one of the perfections of the divine love. One of Barth's concerns is to avoid the picture, with which Edwards operates, of holiness as one-among-other excellencies of God. On Barth's view grace is, as it were, an adverbial qualification of God's love - God loves in a gracious manner. And holiness is in turn an adjectival qualification of God's grace - the graciousness of God's love has a holy quality to it. 'When God loves,' says Barth, 'revealing His inmost being in the fact that He loves and therefore seeks and creates fellowship, this being and doing is divine and distinct from all other loving to the extent that the love of God's being in so far as it seeks and creates fellowship by its own free inclination and favour, unconditioned by any merit or claim in the beloved, but also unhindered by any unworthiness or opposition in the latter - able, on the contrary, to overcome all unworthiness and opposition. ... to say grace is to say the forgiveness of sins; to say holiness, judgment upon sins. But since both reflect the love of God, how can there by the one without the other, forgiveness without judgment or judgment without forgiveness? (CD, II/1, p. 353, 360)'"

- Nicholas Wolterstorff, "Liturgy, Justice, and Holiness" in Hearing the call: Liturgy, Justice, Church and World, 65-66.

This quote is a breath of fresh air and I was compelled to take a deep sigh of relief and thankfulness. If the totality of God's being is holiness, how is this good news for the creature? As Wolterstorff points out, Isaiah's response to the holiness of God was not one of pleasure and delight (though this is not altogether excluded) but rather terror and fear! Truly, the Gospel message does not exclude the holiness of God's judgment. But isn't the good news precisely that in God's gracious unmitigated love, God took the deserved judgment upon Himself in the cross of Jesus Christ in order to reconcile humanity onto the Father? In this act, God revealed His identity to humanity as the God who lavishly loves His creatures without hindrance. For this reason, we worship Him as the holy One.

The Communion of the Church.

2011-09-17T23:03:00.005-04:00

"When I reluctantly continue to share the church's communion with someone whose moral judgment I deeply disagree with, I do so in the knowledge that for both of us part of the cost is that we have to sacrifice a straightforward confidence in our 'purity'. Being in the Body means that we are touched by one another's failures. If another Christian comes to a different conclusion and decides in different ways from myself, and if I can still recognise their discipline and practice as sufficiently like mine to sustain a conversation, this leaves my own decisions to some extent under question. I cannot have absolute subjective certainty that this is the only imaginable reading of the tradition; I need to keep my reflections under critical review. This, I must emphasise again, is not a form of relativism; it is a recognition of the element of putting oneself at risk that is involved in any serious decision-making or any serious exercise of discernment (as any pastor or confessor will know). But this is only part of the implication of recognising the differences and risks of decision-making in the Body of Christ. If I conclude that my Christian brother or sister is deeply and damagingly mistaken in their decision, I accept for myself the brokenness in the Body that this entails. These are my wounds; just as the one who disagrees with me is wounded by what they consider my failure or even betrayal. So long as we still have a language in common and the 'grammar of obedience' in common, we have, I believe, to turn away from the temptation to seek the purity and assurance of a community speaking with only one voice and embrace the reality of living in a communion that is fallible and divided. The church's need for health and mercy is inseparable from my own need for health and mercy. To remain in communion is to remain in solidarity with those who I believe are wounded as well as wounding the church, in the trust that in the Body of Christ the confronting of wounds is part of opening ourselves to healing."

- Rowan Williams, "Making Moral Decisions" in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Ethics, 11.

James Cone and the Hope of Witness.

2011-09-03T23:05:00.005-04:00

I stumbled across this interview between Bill Moyers and James Cone through a friend's posting on facebook. I was simply enthralled with the interview and at one point felt the same feeling I usually feel when attempting to engage in the issue of race: hopelessness. As a white woman, despite all my desires and good intentions to be some sort of agent for change in relation to racism and discrimination in society, I often wonder what I can do. More than that, I wonder what ability (and right) I have to even engage in any witness to racism and the black experience given my rather privileged life as a white, upper-middle class individual. And then the inevitable guilt sets in as I realize that I can't exempt myself from both past and present responsibility in terms of racism, oppression, and discrimination. While I don't think guilt is altogether useless (I'm thankful Mark Lewis Taylor recognizes the sometimes important role of guilt/reflection in these contexts here), it doesn't offer a constructive way forward. I was thankful for this interview with Cone because not only is he unrelenting in his call to honesty and communication, but he is also charitable and inclusive to those non-black individuals who seek to bring hope and change to the issue of racism. The following was particularly challenging and powerful to me as I hope it will be for you:

Moyers: What can people do to bring about this beloved community you talk about?

Cone: First, it is to believe that it can happen. Don't lose hope. If people lose hope, they give up in despair. Black people were slaves for 246 years, but they didn't lose hope.

Moyers: Why didn't they?

Cone: They didn't lose hope because there was a power and reality in their experience that let them know they were apart of this human race just like everybody else and they fought for that.

Moyers: So, I have hope. What's next?

Cone: The next step is to connect with people who also have hope. Blacks, whites, Hispanics, Asian, all different kinds of people. They have to connect, be around, and organize with people who have hope.

Moyers: What do you mean organize?

Cone: You organize to make the world the way it ought to be. And that is the beloved community. You have to have some witness to that even if it is just a small witness of just you and me.

You Know Who We Are.

2011-09-02T00:25:00.006-04:00

Lord, our God, you know who we are: People with good and bad consciences; satisfied and dissatisfied, sure and unsure people; Christians out of conviction and Christians out of habit; believers, half-believers, and unbelievers.

You know where we come from: from our circle of relatives, friends, and acquaintances, or from great loneliness; from lives of quiet leisure, or from all manner of embarrassment and distress; from ordered, tense, or destroyed family relationships; from the inner circle, or from the fringes of the Christian community.

But now we all stand before you: in all our inequality equal in this, that we are all in the wrong before you and among each other; that we all must die someday; that we all would be lost without your grace; but also that your grace is promised to and turned toward all of us through your beloved Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ.

We are here together in order to praise you by allowing you to speak to us. We ask that this might happen in this house in the name of your Son, our Lord. Amen.

- Karl Barth

Questions of Methodology.

2011-08-29T17:16:00.006-04:00

"Any kind of Christian theology today, even in rich and dominant countries, which does not have as its starting point the historic situation of dependence and domination of two thirds of humankind, with its 30 million dead of hunger and malnutrition, will not be able to position and concretize historically its fundamental themes. Its questions will not be the real questions. It will not touch the real person. As observed by a participant in the Buenos Aires gathering, 'theology must be rescued from its cynicism.' Certainly, in the face of the problems of today's world, many theological writings are reduced to cynicism."

- Hugo Assmann, Teología desde la praxis de la liberación, 40.

The words of this small and popular excerpt are piercing, especially for a lover of classic dogmatics like myself. I'm trying to get a head start on my reading for the Liberation Theology of Gustavo Gutiérrez class this semester and I am repeatedly reminded of the deficiencies within western academic theology. This cry is heard again and again to the point where it seems that either some ignore it or others assume that theology can only be considered as such if it begins with an attempt to bear witness to the cause of the oppressed in society.

Usually the starting point of God's transcendence is attacked and dismissed since this only perpetuates the complacency concerning injustice that has plagued Christianity. Without intending to sound callous to these worthy concerns, I remain convinced that abusus non tollit usum. And I wonder what is ultimately sacrificed precisely for the cause of the oppressed if methodological concerns including the starting point of God's ontology is abandoned and replaced with immanence. In short, I can not stop questioning if the method of immanence often employed by liberation theologians ultimately fails to achieve the end of liberation and hope that is rightfully and necessarily sought for the oppressed.

The New Political Wave in Evangelicalism.

2011-08-25T11:43:00.022-04:00

If anyone has known me since I started college, they know I've made my rounds in the Church. My undergraduate days were marked with desperation to find some sort of ecclesial identity and to embrace a particular Christian confession. This desire took me to many parts of the church from the hippie house-Church movement all the way to the wonders of Eastern Orthodoxy. Along the way, I ended up getting involved with the International House of Prayer (IHOP). I use the word "involved" rather loosely since I only attended their "One Thing" conference every New Years for three years. Despite the fact that the movement and its corruption almost led me to abandon the Christian religion (that is for another time), I am thankful for my experiences. That is why when I heard this interview about Rick Perry and the new political movement in evangelicalism on NPR's Fresh Air, I understood the seriousness of what was being discussed more than I would like to admit. You can go here to listen to the fascinating interview: http://tiny.cc/chbxb

The IHOP movement is distinct from other charismatic movements in various ways. First, this movement is distinctly young-adult oriented. Sure, there are older folks who show up, but the stadiums are packed with thousands upon thousands of well-meaning and sincere youth. Second, there is an emphatic emphasis upon the supernatural. Everything goes - hearing the audible voice of God (Mike Bickle heard God's audible voice telling him to start the IHOP back in 1999), exorcisms, speaking in tongues, shaking uncontrollably on the floor, prophesying endlessly, words of knowledge, visions, dreams, etc. There is also a continual obsession with Satan, demons, and their influence upon the earth. Even more, these aspects of the "supernatural" realm should not be considered "supernatural" but rather "natural"; anything less would demean the presence of God at work in the life of Christians. Every Christian should expect this type of supernatural activity in their lives on a daily basis. One of the reasons I always felt like an outsider to this movement is that I never spoke in tongues (I tried once but it didn't work), I never attempted to cast out demons (nor did I want to), I never had radical dreams or visions, and I never fell down when a "prayer warrior" came and touched my forehead. I always wondered how one could have confidence that these things were actually "from God" and not simply a product of self-deception. Third, the movement is radically political. I think this is probably the most important thing to emphasize. Everything is about "reclaiming" and "taking back" in America what has been stolen by Satan and the demonic realm. While this assumes that America was ever in alignment with the Christian God from the beginning (and you don't even need to read Noam Chomsky or Howard Zinn to admit that), the leaders of this movement are very persuasive and powerful in their rhetoric. You might laugh and think you could never be brainwashed into thinking this stuff. But when you attend these conferences with thousands upon thousands of young adults who passionately and desperately embrace the words of leaders who claim they have "heard the audible voice of God" and had "dreams and visions" of America's future, it all becomes more confusing than you'd ever like to imagine. One of the reasons this movement must be political is that the people inside and associated with IHOP believe that Christians are genuinely responsible for "ushering in" the Kingdom of God and the second return of Christ. Until so many people convert to Christianity or repent from their blatant sin, Jesus Christ will not return to reclaim "the Bride of Christ" (the Church). Therefore, Christians must repent of their complacency and unabashedly become involved in changing the political system. This type of change comes through voting for Republican candidates because only Republicans genuinely understand the two issues that are closest to the "heart of God" and those issues are homosexuality and abortion. This feeds on the greatest vulnerabilities of evangelical youth since almost everyone in evangelicalism from a young age has been taught that these two issues are very serious and show "just how far" America has strayed from the truth of God's word (Let's be honest: no matter how "liberal" ex-evangelical youth become, most will never abandon their pro-life stance). But contrary to the ways of the past, this movement claims to be marked by love and peace. These aren't the folks who terrorize abortion clinics. Rather, they peacefully stand outside the Supreme Court with red tape over their mouth with the word "LIFE" written on it as they pray and fast for the lives of the unborn sometimes for forty days at a time. The commitment and sacrifice is genuinely impressive no matter how far off you think these Christians are. Finally, the movement is marked by a sense of martyrdom. These are Christians who are willing to be killed, persecuted, beaten, and ostracized for their beliefs. In fact, this would mean that they are doing something right since any opposition to the political system ("the demonic forces") would naturally result in this type of backlash. In a way, this opposition means progress. They don't believe in the rapture of our parent's generation. Christians will remain on earth and must endure the persecution necessary to bring about Christ's return.

Some might be wondering how anyone could genuinely be wrapped up in this movement. An outside observer might assume that these individuals are crazy and are simply not intelligent. While there might be unstable and unintelligent individuals in this movement like any other, that isn't the root of the problem. If only! The issue is far more complicated and I won't pretend to pinpoint all of the many essential problems of this movement here (there are so many issues with their political assumptions that I wouldn't even know where to begin). But I do wish to offer one specific point,which I believe highlights the reason that this type of movement is so popular and persuasive, especially among young adults. It is no surprise that evangelicalism as a whole has lost an identity and is doctrinally anemic. Apart from a lack of catechesis, there is simply a lack of distinct Christian identity. There is no sense of what Christians might actually believe or have confessed since Pentecost because a lot of evangelical Churches are led by clergy who are also uneducated. This type of theological illiteracy goes so far that most evangelicals lack very basic understandings of the Trinity, Christology, and Scripture. As such, there is this desperate longing present among evangelical youth which asks what qualifies me as a Christian? In our parent's age, it was personal piety. But the evangelical youth of today have seen through such shallow false righteousness and desire a more genuine Christian orientation. Absent theological education and responsible Christian leadership, evangelical youth attend these conferences hoping to hear an answer to these questions from leaders like Mike Bickle, Lou Engle, Jason Upton, and all the rest. These youth witness leaders who are seemingly far more sincere in their faith than most anyone else they've ever known (fasting for 40 days?! They heard God's voice?!) and so they gain credibility. And the youth really listen to these men and women. What is more, these youth crave a type of Christian identity that is radical and all-encompassing. Young evangelicals are attracted to whatever Christian expression they can find which bleeds into every area of one's life. That is exactly what you will find at IHOP. These Christians are not fooling around! There is no dichotomy between the private and public. This Christian confession pervades every part of life.

In short, it is my assertion that the reason these misguided and dangerous movements occur is due to the fact that evangelicalism has lost its Christian identity. The aspects of the Christian religion that classify its particularity have been lost. Young American evangelicals want something to fill that void. And they've found it. Unfortunately, they've traded their whitewashed tombs for an unconstitutional, superstitious, and idolatrous political orientation that has little in common with orthodox Christian belief. Most people will hear about this movement and laugh or think it not serious. But when you have political candidates like Rick Perry and Sarah Palin directly or indirectly endorsing these movements, you can't deny their dangerous influence any longer. I simply hope that evangelicalism will realize that movements like these are a direct product of its own theological illiteracy.

Which Jesus?

2011-08-12T16:13:00.004-04:00

When one graduates from seminary and then enters into a long summer vacation with entirely too much free time, a lot of questioning begins to emerge. Since my concerns are always bent toward methodology, I have been giving a lot of thought to how Christians have, should, and do approach the task of theology.

Recently I've been asking myself what is the Gospel about primarily? Reconciliation? Forgiveness? Liberation? In dogmatic terms, I keep asking what office of Jesus Christ takes formal precedence - Jesus as prophet, priest, or king? It would be difficult to exaggerate the influence that the answer to this question has upon one's theology. But within western theological circles, especially reformed theology, Jesus' priestly office has been championed as the primary starting point. At the risk of offering arguments or questions that seem to lack in argumentation and offer nothing more than logical fallacies, I would like to say that I find this ordering suspicious. There is this enduring narrative that in order to hold an objective orientation within theology, the focus must primarily start with Jesus Christ's role as the agent of reconciliation of humanity to God the Father. I have heard it said repeatedly that minorities and other oppressed members of the world who are concerned with the understanding of the Gospel primarily as liberation are "subjective" in their orientation. It is almost as if these folks are treated like they use the Christian religion as a utilitarian means to further their own socio-political cause while the "real Christians" are those who are concerned about what happens in the more vertical dimension between Jesus Christ and God the Father.

But I keep asking myself if an objective orientation that is usually championed as orthodox can only be made possible or (more modestly) compelling if privilege is present. Is it any accident that those who led the way for orthodox theology were those who possessed power and control and held a privileged status in society? Is it an accident that the early Church, despite the substitutionary elements in Athanasius' theology, focused primarily (not exclusively) on Christ as Victor instead of Redeemer in their atonement theology?

Part of the reason I bring this up is because in evangelical theology, everything is about the reconciliation of the individual sinner to a holy God. To speak robustly about justice and liberation in relation to the Gospel usually creates instant suspicion and such an understanding is almost immediately dismissed (I have been woefully guilty of this same impulse in the past). Everything is about the vertical dimension since why fight for justice and liberation if the person's very soul is on the line? We'd rather the individual continue in oppression instead of risking their soul continuing in hell for all eternity. I don't say this in a disrespectful tone. Honestly, I have heard this reasoning constantly as someone who graduated from an evangelical private high school, an evangelical liberal arts college, and an evangelical seminary. I simply ask myself if this narrative is born only because evangelicals in North America primarily stand in a place of privilege. They have no real need for Jesus as Victor and Liberator. They only generally have a need for Jesus to be Priest and they then think that is what the rest of the world - oppressed or enslaved or not - needs this Jesus foremost. How can one say such things without serious self-critique when encountering the black community in North America, the oppressed women throughout the world, the patriarchy and poverty within Hispanic culture? I even ask this about Karl Barth's theology. Would his posture and orientation toward the task of theology be the same if he were not seeped in a life of privilege?

I think such an understanding is convenient and fails to identify with the least of those in society which the Son of God came to serve, liberate, and set free. Can we continue to champion this objective narrative without realizing that it is only made possible by our status as the masters of society? And should we not ask how our own privileged status has made our own objective theology that much more subjective in orientation?

Gender and Oppression.

2011-08-02T17:28:00.010-04:00

I came across a review of Carolyn Custis James' book Half the Church at the Gospel Coalition website this afternoon through a friend's post on facebook. I have met with Mrs. James about her book (she is the wife of the provost at Gordon-Conwell where I recently graduated) and I am grateful that she highlights the ways in which women are ignored and ultimately oppressed within the global Church (though I do wish she would go a lot further in her critiques and solutions). Even though it is no secret that I am not a fan of the Gospel Coalition and their understanding of the Gospel, I was very troubled and disturbed by what the reviewer, Courtney Reissig, had to say. The review can be read here: http://tiny.cc/jkknx

Ms. Reissig starts the review by critiquing James' (supposed) views of marriage, submission, and ultimately the message of the Gospel. It is obvious that Reissig would identify herself as a "complimentarian" which maintains that even though women are ontologically equal with men, they have different roles and responsibilities within this world. To me, that is like saying minorities are equal but segregation is still justified. To offer a complimentarian position without believing that it is truly offensive and ultimately violent to the cause of women is simply dishonest to me. But that is for another day. Reissig then goes on to imply that she disagrees with James' interpretation of the Hebrew word "helper" in Genesis 2 when applied to Eve. I simply do not understand how it can be argued that the Hebrew word used in Genesis in relation to Eve can mean anything other than sharing complete authority and leadership since the same adjective is used to describe Godself in various points throughout the Hebrew Bible. When the word "helper" is used to describe the quintessential domestic housewife who stays home and takes care of her kids (please read: there is nothing wrong with doing such), it is a completely shallow misrepresentation of the Hebrew word and imports a tremendous amount of conservative evangelical American cultural baggage.

Moreover, I truly do not understand how the word submission, especially when it is used in a one-way fashion within marriage can be understood as anything less than inequality. We can say all day long that female submission to male headship does not mean oppression and inequality, but one need look no further than the lack of expectations for women within the average North American evangelical Church to see how women truly do not have a voice and a role within the Kingdom of God outside of domestic duties. The way that women are treated and talked about within these complimentarian circles gives one the impression that they are children and men are their parental figures rather than truly equal creatures before God.

But beyond all of these troubling understandings of gender, the line that most bothered me was when Ms. Reissing somehow believes it is acceptable to say that "oppressed women do not need autonomy and freedom from authority so much as a Savior who provides for them, protects them, and leads them to himself." First, I do not know what sort of atonement theory or understanding of the Gospel would lead someone to make such a strict dichotomy between freedom from oppression (and ultimately violence) and redemption. How does the Christian believe they understand the words and deeds of Jesus Christ if they believe that the only thing that matters for oppressed women in the world is to have a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ" (which is what Reissing seems to be hinting at here with her language of a vertical imperative for women in relation to Jesus Christ). Besides the fact that language of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ rarely is fleshed out and usually does not make a lot of sense, I am troubled that anyone could think the plight of women who are oppressed by violence is not of essential importance for the Church. Has our conception of Jesus Christ and His ministry become so docetic that the only thing that matters any longer is personal piety and private devotional times? Does the message of Jesus Christ in the cross not demand us to fight and passionately pursue the way of justice and mercy for the oppressed and outcast in society?

For all of these reasons, I have become increasingly concerned at the direction that the evangelical Church in North America has taken in its own conception of the Gospel. The contents of this review are simply irresponsible and not acceptable for the Church that seeks to be faithful to the ministry of Jesus Christ in its words and deeds. If the Gospel ever means placing the cause against oppression and violence as second best, how can we say that we truly have any identification with the God who dwelled among His people in Jesus Christ in order to offer us new life and hope?

The humility of God.

2011-07-10T14:26:00.004-04:00

Some very challenging words from Barth:

"Even in the form of a servant, which if the form of His presence and action in Jesus Christ, we have to do with God Himself in His true deity. The humility in which He dwells and acts in Jesus Christ is not alien to Him, but proper to Him. His humility is a novum mysterium for us in whose favour He executes it when He makes use of His freedom for it, when He shows His love even to His enemies and His life even in death, thus revealing them in a way which is quite contrary to all our false ideas about God. But for Him this humility is no novum mysterium. it is His sovereign grace that He wills to be and is amongst us in humility, our God, God for us. But He shows us this grace, He is amongst us in humility, our God, God for us, as that which He is in Himself, in the most inward depth of His Godhead. He does not become another God. In the condescension in which He gives Himself to us in Jesus Christ He exists and speaks and acts as the One He was from all eternity and will be to all eternity. The truth and actuality of our atonement depends on this being the case. The One who reconciles the world with God is necessarily the one God Himself in His true Godhead. Otherwise the world would not be reconciled with God. Otherwise it is still the world which is not reconciled with God."

- Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV.1, 193.

My question is this: is speech against the humility of Christ in the cross (and ultimately speech affirming impassibility) rooted in the biblical witness or simply a theologia gloriae? Does a true theologia crucis require an affirmation that the God revealed in the cross is who God is in Himself from all eternity? If not, how can we have any confidence of God's true identity?

Jüngel and the Event of Correspondence.

2011-07-04T23:20:00.002-04:00

This was paradigm-shifting for me:

"Very often the Protestant polemic against the so-called analogia entis also completely misses the genuinely Evangelical approach to theological thought. This does not happen because an understanding of analogy which has not been understood is being disputed, but rather because these critics are thinking much too much in the same direction as the opponent which they believe they are combating. If all that were at stake were to respect God as the Totally Other, nothing would be more appropriate than to think up the much-scorned analogia entis. But that cannot ultimately be the concern of a theology which accords with the gospel. The great Przywara did then insist, in a certain tension with the tendency of his argumentation, that the constantly new experience of still greater similarities between God and creature may not fail to take place. ... Briefly put: the gospel is to be understood as the event of correspondence."

- Eberhard Jüngel in God as the Mystery of the World, 284, 286.

Small Thoughts on God as the Mystery of the World.

2011-07-02T15:43:00.004-04:00

I've been reading through Eberhard Jungel's God as the Mystery of the World and it makes me feel as though I am taking my first systematic theology class all over again. He takes an incredibly careful and calculated course to define his basic positions. But Jungel, in the spirit of Barth, reminds his audience of very simple yet profound and miraculous truths; namely that God can be known as an object of knowledge, but only through God's own self-revelation. Unless God reveals Himself and becomes the subject of speech about Himself, theology can have no confidence that it is responsibly speaking about God. Thus, Jungel provides a theological orientation that is entirely dependent upon revelation. However, this revelation is a continual unfolding event, which constantly produces new thought about God.

Right after these rather freeing statements, Jungel backs up a bit to say that thought about God can only be possible because God has already revealed Himself. But where? For Jungel, God has "definitely" revealed Himself in the cross of Jesus Christ. Therefore, faith is "the anthropological realization of the fact that God has revealed himself" in the crucified Christ (228). In an effort to avoid God's self-revelation as producing an exclusive epistemological outcome, Jungel is right to affirm that "revelation is, in its facticity, not primarily an occasion for knowledge, but rather an event of self-sharing in the being of the one revealing himself, an event which implies knowledge" (228).

To me, that is sheer beauty.

Realizations.

2011-06-26T23:30:00.006-04:00

This summer, I've decided to regularly attend my family's non-denominational Church so that I can worship with my parents, Grandmother, and nephew every Sunday morning. Given my love for high-liturgical services (despite all my issues with it), I have struggled to find patience with the cliche worship style. The homilies, however well-intentioned, are little more than Oprah's self-help messages baptized in a few Scriptures. I often leave these services feeling rather alienated. Beyond the fact that so many of the lyrics in these modern worship songs are theologically impoverished at best, I find it dishonest to say that I will "give all" to Christ. Isn't that the point, that I can't do such things? Isn't His faithfulness to me, even when I am faithless and seek to escape the friendship He has established with me in Christ, the very essence of the Gospel?

Today, I found it difficult to be silent. So I began to express my disagreements about this particular Church with my Dad. I started out by saying that my intention isn't to seem like an elitist, or that I have it all figured out. I truly am learning just like everyone else - this much is certain.

But as I was talking, I honestly could not believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. There is no potentiality, it is all actualized in Christ. There is no ladder for Christians to climb, it is simply an act of grace that we continually realize who we are in Christ by the power of the Spirit. Sanctification isn't necessarily a matter of "getting more holy" but rather a deeper awareness of one's own inability and helplessness. This is what grace means. To me, this is the Gospel. That before the foundation of the world, the Father chose to reconcile humanity onto Himself in Christ. Even more, we have no where to stand, but continually depend upon the grace of God as we bear witness to this truth not only to each other but to the world. A theologia crucis - a theology that believes God is most revealed in the suffering and humility of the cross - does not mean recovering from and escaping doubt, weakness, and disbelief. Rather, it recognizes that God is still faithful to us in Christ as we encounter all of this suffering.

I began to wonder how all of this is consistent with my other theological sympathies. The radical posture of humility and dependence I just outlined which I articulated to my Dad today doesn't seem to be consistent with other aspects of my theology (ecclesiology for starters). My Dad's questions by way of response made me realize that my position is very unstable. Again, it offers no where to stand. Ironically, this is what makes me so attracted yet so uncomfortable with Barth's methodology (this became all the more clear at the Karl Barth conference last week). His understanding of the object of faith in Jesus Christ determines his radically unstable methodology which continually seeks to "start at the beginning" when bearing witness to the Gospel.

Is this too - the instability - what it means to faithfully witness to a theologia crucis?

While I won't end up long-term at this type of non-denominational Church, the very occasions that give rise to these realizations and questions are uncomfortable. I pray for the courage and willingness to live out whatever conclusions might surface even if that means a radical ecclesial reorientation.

History and Good [1].

2011-06-08T20:56:00.005-04:00

One of the people in my life for whom I have the highest degree of respect and admiration brought Bonhoeffer's life to my attention today. When they mentioned his name, I chuckled at the providential irony that I am supposed to be reading Bonhoeffer's Ethics this week for the current blog reading project going on over at Jeremy's blog. I continued to read in my assigned reading and found the following gem of a quote. As I get older, I am sometimes tempted to believe the mark of sin and death is the reality of situations that do not offer a clear moral absolute. Sometimes there is little confidence that you are doing the right thing in a situation. But I was surprised to learn that Bonhoeffer calls this tension the "freedom" of the Christian - abandoning abstract reasoning in favor of concrete historical situations within a community.

"The moment a person accepts responsibility for other people - and only in so doing does the person live in reality - the genuine ethical situation arises. This is really something different from the abstract way in which people usually seek to come to terms with the ethical problem. The subject of the action is no longer the isolated individual, but the one who is responsible for other people. The action's norm is not a universal principle, but the concrete neighbor, as given to me by God. The choice is made no longer between a clearly recognized good and a clearly recognized evil; instead, it is risked in faith while being aware that good and evil are hidden in the concrete historical situation.

To act out of concrete responsibility means to act in freedom - to decide, to act, and to answer for the consequences of this particular action myself without the support of other people or principles. Responsibility presupposes ultimate freedom in assessing a given situation, in choosing, and in acting. Responsible action is neither determined from the outset nor defined once and for all; instead, it is born in the given situation. The point is not to apply a principle that eventually will be shattered by reality anyway, but to discern what is necessary or 'commanded' in a given situation. One must observe, weigh, and judge the matter, all in the dangerous freedom of one's own self. One must indeed enter the sphere of relativity, in the twilight that the historical situation casts over good and evil. The self-denial often necessary for those who act responsibly is to prefer what is better over what is less good, since 'absolute good' is capable, to an even greater extent, of provoking nothing less than evil. The so-called absolute good would in such a case be bad, and that which is relatively better is 'absolutely' better than the 'absolute good.' This throws the freedom of those who act responsibly into the sharpest relief: it is freedom from servitude even to an 'absolute good'."

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "History and Good [1]" in Ethics, 221-222.

The Christian as Ethical Agent

2011-06-07T23:22:00.002-04:00

"We do not have the option to choose whether to exalt or abase ourselves, whether to save our lives or lose them, whether to take up our cross or to leave it, whether to hate our enemies or to love them, whether to accept suffering in the discipleship of Christ. We are not - to use one of Barth's favorite images - Hercules at the crossroads with a liberum arbitrium. There is no general principle or symbol of the cross about which we can deliberate and choose. Instead, we stand under the sign and direction of the cross because that cross is the cross of Jesus Christ and because God in Jesus Christ stood there first, in obedience and humility. We stand there because Jesus Christ is both the subject and the object of the election of God and because we are elect in him. Moreover, this existence under the cross is, for Barth, not a yoke of servitude that the Christian must bear because God wills it. It represents rather God's call 'into the freedom of the children of God, into a following of the freedom and the work in which God Himself is God.' It is only because Jesus Christ is the electing and elected Son of God who suffers and dies in love and freedom and obedience and humility that we are 'called and empowered in fellowship with Him to choose the humility which is natural to the children of God'."

- Paul Nimmo, "Barth and the Christian as Ethical Agent" in Commanding Grace, 237.

Speech Therapy (Week Two)

2011-06-05T18:01:00.004-04:00

As I sat in the airport terminal last Friday to write my first blog post about speech therapy, I was convinced that initial post would be the most arduous to write. Unfortunately, I was very mistaken. This past week has proven to be the most difficult for me in a variety of ways. I guess you could say that real life has finally penetrated its way into my three week therapy bubble. And it has taken its toll.

Over the past two weeks, my life has been consumed by speech therapy and at-home speech practices. Every single day, I get better and better at the many exercises and tools that my speech therapist has given me to improve my fluency. But the end result of fluency doesn't come instantly. There is not a sudden flip of a switch inside your brain or your vocal tract to produce complete fluency. Moreover, it is not simply putting the procedures into place. The path to fluency includes overcoming all of the emotional factors - the fear, anxiety, and shame of stuttering.

I noticed that since Thursday evening, I have not been doing as well in my moments of disfluency like I have been in the past. When we have a moment of stutter, we are supposed to use this practice called freezing. Basically, instead of pushing through the stutter and engaging with it in order to "push out" a word, you are supposed to stop, and ease into the sound. That probably sounds like no big deal, right? Well, it is. You relax your upper body, focus on your breathing, relax your throat muscles, inhale, and ease into the sound. This takes time. And practice. Constant practice of overturning old habits. Instead of pushing through stutters or avoiding something I want to say, every conversation requires me to say exactly what I intend to say and engage in new behaviors. It is something like sanctification for speech. Unlearning bad habits and engaging in new ones. Facing my feared words and not backing down, even when I know I just entered a moment of stutter. Sometimes I fail miserably at freezing and it an unnatural lengthy pause occurs in a conversation so I can get out the sound.

I know overturning these old habits are for my benefit. But they create new fears. Will I ever get better at this? Will the moments of disfluency ever get shorter? Will the seconds for easing into a vowel sound ever decrease? When will they stop feeling like small eternities?

Moreover, the issue of minimizing the emotional factors in a moment of stutter is an even greater battle. Somewhere along the way in the past two weeks, I realized that one of the largest obstacles to fluency is the fear of other's opinion of me. Whenever I get into a moment of stutter, even with my closest friends, I feel extremely guilty. I am making them wait. What do they think of me right now? Do they think I'm not intelligent? Do they think that I am weird? Why does this make me feel so alienated from my audience? Will they feel uncomfortable and try to end this conversation? When will I stop having this inner dialogue and simply not care what other people think of me?

I found myself, starting yesterday, actually apologizing in my moment of stutter. I offer a quick "sorry" in the period of pauses. And then eventually, I get the sound out. But in essence, I realized that I'm apologizing for who I am. I keep apologizing because I'm essentially begging my audience not to judge me, and to believe that I am just like them.

But I'm not like them. And I never will be. Obviously stuttering is an actual disability. However, I never imagined that spiritual transformation would come through an attempt to confront my stuttering. Every conversation presents a new opportunity to forfeit my idolatry and work on improving my fluency. That part is more painful than getting my vocal tract to finally produce a sound.

At the end of this week, I find myself amazed again at the way in which God has used my disability to reveal my continuous theology of glory. But conversation after conversation, I am reminded that the God of the cross dwells with the lowly, the humble, and the least of them.

Speech Therapy (Week One)

2011-05-27T17:39:00.010-04:00

Before I begin to write about the past week, I need to offer a few disclaimers and apologies. First, I intend to write part two of "Knowledge of God and Holiness" sometime in the next week. I have not had a lot of free time in the past week and any time I might have had left over has been spent sleeping (exhaustion isn't even an appropriate word for my continual state this week!). Second, I apologize to the few people who commented on my blog this week to whom I have yet to reply. I hope to do so this weekend. Finally, this post is part of my assignment for my speech therapy program. It promises to be incredibly honest so I hope you bear with me as I adjust to this new degree of transparency.

Let's start at the beginning. My name is Kait and I stutter. That is what I have been trained to say this week in my speech therapy program. We call this "advertising." See, I started a speech therapy program this week and it has quite dramatically changed my life. When I began this program, I thought I would simply learn the skills to speak more fluently. Little did I know it would transform how I see myself. Even though most people can't even tell that I stutter, my speech plagues me. I have tremendous difficulty reading in front of people. I am usually unable to say names that begin with vowels. This becomes all the more burdensome when I can't even say the name of my best friend on most days without a tremendous amount of "pushing" and anxious-filled struggling. When I walked through the doors of the speech fluency program in Boston on Monday morning, I was confident that I would be the one person for whom the program would not work. I was the only female in the program out of six males. Throughout the day, my speech therapist pointed out my stutters in places I didn't even notice. Let's just say there were a lot. Would the average person notice them? No. I don't usually repeat the beginning of words but rather use short or long pauses. But my speech therapist can hear and see everything. In her presence, I am totally exposed. It was one of the most difficult days of my life. I left speech therapy that afternoon, called my Mom, and just started weeping. Is this what my parents sacrificed thousands of dollars for, so I could be crushed and feel more hopeless than I already did about my speech? My Mom offered her usual words of encouragement. I calmed down, drove home, and did my homework in hopes that perhaps I wouldn't be the total lost cause that I believed myself to be.

I returned the next day. Little did I know that this day would change my life. My speech therapist told us that morning that it is not a question of if a word will come out, but when. She told us that the difference between a "severe" stutterer and a "mild" stutterer is the amount of time it takes to recover from a moment of disfluency. But you see, this was news to me. My greatest obstacles are vowels. I can remember times in the past where I tried to push out vowels for up to twenty seconds with no success. These moments of failure eventually made me believe that every time I spoke, there was always the possibility that I would not physically be able to say a particular word. But my speech therapist told us that we do have the physical ability to say any word; it is all about minimizing the moment of disfluency. To me, this was like gospel. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. nAt this point, I didn't care HOW long it took me to say any particular word; I realized that I had the ability to say any word at all! It was just a matter of getting there. With her one sentence, one of the greatest lies in my head that made me feel hopeless and helpless was overturned. This is why I am here.

But to be honest, that wasn't even enough for me. While this was a huge moment of breakthrough for me, I still had what seemed like endless fears, questions, and insecurities. At times, it took every ounce of self-control to keep from bursting into tears (I never did, thankfully). Following this life-changing Tuesday morning, I walked to the elevator to go to lunch by myself. Waiting for the elevator, my speech therapist walked up to me and said, "do you want to eat lunch with me?" What I wanted to do was cry and tell her that I would buy her caviar if she would agree to talk to me one-on-one at lunch, but thankfully I just offered a short "yes." As we stepped into the elevator she said to me, "I want you to tell me every fear you have, every question you have, and anything else that is on your mind. I can tell you have so much going on inside your head." There are moments in your life that you can feel the tangible grace of the Lord. This moment might have been in my top three. In that hour, my speech therapist felt like my priest. I confessed everything to her. I told her every fear, question, and insecurity I had about my speech. She answered everything. She encouraged me. She was honest with me. And that hour left a mark on me.

The rest of the week included so many details and events that I don't have the time to tell you about. But day by day, these six other students and myself are slowly learning to accept ourselves as stutterers. As much as I want to change myself, I can't. All the speech therapy in the world is not a cure for the fact that I stutter. But this week has taught me that I am not a victim. This does not have to control me. With patience, perseverance, and a tremendous amount of hard work, I can manage my stutter.

I will be in speech therapy for the next two weeks. I hope to write a blog post at the end of each week of therapy. After that, I will undergo two months of at-home follow-up therapy. I can't say that there won't be days where I will feel defeated. Motor training is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. But one thing I do know: it has to come out. And it will. One word at a time.

Knowledge of God and Holiness (Part 1)

2011-05-19T18:41:00.007-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was conversing with Jeremy about the relationship between one's personal piety and their ability to engage in the theological task. Since college, I have often wondered about the connection between the words and deeds of the individual and the ability to think properly about any given subject (I blame this on reading Paul Johnson's Intellectuals in college). My intention is not to put forth one giant ad hominem against any particular philosopher or theologian. Rather, I genuinely wonder if anyone, especially myself, can possess the ability to think properly and rightly about an object of inquiry if these same persons are engaged in habitual and intentional immoral behavior. Let's break it down: can you have repeated affairs on your spouse and do theology? What bearing does your affair have upon your cognitive faculties and your ability to understand the object of theology, Jesus Christ?

If there is no connection whatsoever between proper knowledge of God and personal behavior, what keeps the theologian from engaging in any type of corrupt behavior that shares no identity with the message of the Gospel? And if there is a connection between proper knowledge of God and personal behavior, what hope is there for any creature? Romans 3:23 never seems to go away, no matter how much you try to forget it.

Throughout the past few weeks, in between watching more episodes of The Wire than I'd care to admit, I have been reading T.F. Torrance. In an earlier post, I mentioned that I have been reading The Mediation of Christ. The following excerpt verbalized nearly everything that I have wondered and considered concerning the connection between knowledge and behavior for the task of theology (though Torrance notes that some argue for the necessary connection in all disciplines). It is quite powerful:

"All genuine knowledge involves a cognitive union of the mind with its object, and calls for the removal of any estrangement or alienation that may obstruct or distort it. This is a principle that applies to all spheres of knowledge, and not simply to our knowledge of God. I have sometimes argued that a person can be a good scientist or mathematician without being morally upright. All of us, I suppose, are aware of scientists or mathematicians who are not morally good people, and perhaps of some who are quite immoral or depraved. A number of years ago, when I ventured to say to a group of scientists, mathematicians and theologians that while an immoral person could be a good mathematician he could not be a good theologian, an eminent mathematician, Professor Gonseth, objected. He insisted that a good mathematician had to be dedicated to integrity and rigour which could not but affect his whole character. In fact he claimed that mathematics induces what he called 'a sanctity of mind'. That was certainly true in his case, and in the case of many others to whom we might refer, not to speak of outstanding people like Pascal, Clerk Maxwell, or Einstein.

Nevertheless, it is largely true that mathematics, where we are concerned with impersonal or abstract truth, our personal being is relatively unaffected. That is not the case in our relations with other persons which are mutually modifying. In fact we are not really able to know other people except in so far as we enter into reciprocal relations with them through which we ourselves are affected, that is, in friendship. If it is a fundamental principle that we may know something only in accordance with its nature, then we may know it only as we allow its nature to prescribe to us the mode of knowing appropriate to it and to determine or us the way in which we must consciously behave toward it. Personal beings require from us, therefore, personal modes of knowledge and behaviour, that is, the kind of knowledge that comes through a rapproachement or communication of minds characterised by mutual respect, trust and love. It cannot be otherwise with our knowledge of God. If we are really to know God in accordance with his nature as he discloses himself to us, we require to be adapted in our knowing and personal relations toward him - that is why we cannot know God without love, and if we are estranged without being reconciled to him. Knowing God requires cognitive union with him in which our whole being is affected by his love and holiness. It is the pure in heart who see God.

That God may be known only in a godly way, in accordance with his nature as God, is an emphasis that one finds in whole areas of Christian theology, especially in ancient times. I have in mind what is sometimes called the tradition of ascetic theology in the patristic period, where stress was laid upon the need for askesis or spiritual discipline in mind and life promoting a way of understanding of God that is worthy of him. To know God and be holy, to know God and worship, to know God and be cleansed in mind and soul from anything that may come between people and God, to know God and be committed to him in consecration, love and obedience, go inseparably together. That is to say, ascetic theology sought to put into serious effect the fact that the knowledge and vision of God involve cognitive union with him in accordance with his nature as holy love, in which reconciliation and communion with God through Christ and under the purifying impact of the Holy Spirit are progressively actualised in the renewal and transformation of human patterns of life and thought. The closer people draw near to God, the more integrated their spiritual and physical existence becomes, and the more integrated their spiritual and physical existence becomes, the closer they may draw near to God in mind and being in ways that are worthy of him."

- T.F. Torrance, The Mediation of Christ, 34-36.

This leaves me with a few thoughts:

1. If Barth is correct and revelation is the reconciling event of the personal encounter with the Triune God, what necessary consequences should the Church expect in terms of one's behavior and morality? To be clear, I am not arguing that the subjective aspects of one's response to the Gospel or any other subjective element within the person should determine the objective reality of their election in Christ. I don't think I have to explain how dangerous it can be to allow this to happen and to let the noetic factors determine the ontic reality of election in Jesus Christ.

2. What hope is there for anyone, especially myself, if there is such a necessary connection between knowledge of God and morality (i.e. sanctification)? There is no degree of false humility when I confess that sometimes I feel like the chief of sinners. How can anyone faithfully witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ unless they truly know and encounter the object of faith in Jesus Christ? And how can anyone confess that they have truly known and encountered Jesus Christ if their lives are marked by any degree of sin, rebellion, corruption, and intentional depravity?

Stay tuned . . .

Of Gods and Men*

2011-05-19T18:23:00.005-04:00

If ever I doubted the power of film, I was proven terribly wrong on Tuesday evening. Of Gods and Men left so many impressions and the deep theological issues addressed seemed overwhelming at times. But oddly enough, the one thing that I took away from this film more than any other is the profound urgency and necessity for intentional Christian communities.

*My apologies for the false posting a few days ago. I realized too late that it is nearly impossible to blog from an iPad and my computer was in the shop. The iPad was returned.

Page One Documentary

2011-05-11T12:48:00.011-04:00

If you adore the New York Times as much as I do (and that is a lot), you must go see this new documentary which hits theaters on June 24th. I am one of those diehards who believes that thriving journalism (as well as photojournalism) is essential to a free and healthy society. But even more than that, I continually worry about the negative impact of digital media upon our lives (so she says on her blog). More and more, everything seems to be disappearing from the physical to the digital (books, invitations, education, interviews, church services, newspapers, cards, romantic relationships, etc.). What does this mean for our sense of presence and genuine relationships? Can we truly know someone or learn something if we, they, or it are not physically present, but rather mediated through a machine?

In my quiet and tiny rebellion against this gnostic trend, I subscribe to the New York Times home delivery. But every time I pick up my newspaper in front of my house, I wonder if I will be doing so in ten years. For me, this documentary offers a chance to ask questions that not only influence the greatest news agency in the entire country, but also the future of our entire society. Go see it!

[P.S. A two-part theology post is coming soon enough.]

Helplessness Blues

2011-05-06T21:22:00.014-04:00

I interrupt your regularly scheduled reading to announce my long-anticipated purchase today: the Fleet Foxes new album, Helplessness Blues. To be honest, I wouldn't consider myself as someone who keeps up with the new music scene. Sadly, my music collection has taken a back seat since beginning graduate school. These days, I keep playing Radiohead, The Allman Brothers, and The Beatles on repeat. But every now and then, you hear some dear friends continuously raving about a certain band. It isn't the fleeting type of rave (not pun intended), but the one that keeps coming up again and again by anyone you know with great taste in music. This is what happened with the Fleet Foxes. The first song I heard from the new album was "Grown Ocean." It is one of those songs which reinforces the romantic in you and reminds you that hope and redemption really do exist, at least in song.

Since I intentionally tried to do nothing but take time off this week after wrapping up graduate school on Friday, I completely missed the release of their new album on Tuesday. But I finally bought it this afternoon. After marveling at the intricate and fantastic album artwork and design, I popped the new CD into my car stereo system to listen to pure gold. The vocals are stunningly similar to Crosby, Stills, and Nash, which couldn't be a better precedent to set. In short, you should go out and buy it. No, like immediately. And just skip to track two, entitled "Bedouin Dress."

Torrance and Theosis

2011-05-05T22:49:00.004-04:00

"Since in Jesus Christ there became incarnate the very Son of God whose life and being are eternally grounded in the mutual relation between the Father and the Son, in the communion of love which God himself is in his Being as God, then the mediation of divine reconciliation to mankind in and through Christ means much more than the reconstituting of holy relations between man and God, though it certainly means that. Mediation of reconciliation which takes place within the Person of the Mediator himself means that men and women are savingly reconciled to God by being taken up in and through Christ to share in the inner relations of God's own life and love. It means that the eternal communion of love in God overflows through Jesus Christ into our union with Christ and gathers us up to dwell with God and in God. This is another way of saying that the Incarnation, and the reconciliation that took place within it, fall within the life of God. That is what is implied in the Pauline teaching that Christ, in whom the complete Being of God dwells, dwells in us, so that through a relation of mutual indwelling between Christ and us, we are enfolded within the infinite dimensions of the love of God. The Greek Fathers used to speak of that experience as 'theopoiesis' or 'theosis' which does not mean 'divinisation'. as it is so often supposed, but refers to the utterly staggering act of God in which he gives himself to us and adopts us into the communion of his divine life and love through Jesus Christ and in his one Spirit, yet in such a way that we are not made divine but are preserved in our humanity. That is what constitutes the sustaining inner cohesion of our cognitive union with Christ through faith and the very substance of our personal and corporate union with Christ through the Word and Sacraments, for in Christ our human relations with God, far from being allowed to remain on a merely external basis, are embraced within the Trinitarian relations of God's own Being as Father, Son and Holy Spirit."

- T.F. Torrance, The Mediation of Christ, 74-75, emphasis added.

My issues with this small excerpt are so numerous that I don't quite know where to begin. Therefore, I will outline them:

1. Setting aside Torrance's controversial reading of the Fathers and his reinterpretation of the word theosis, I am unconvinced that the adoption of which Torrance speaks preserves our humanity when this process includes "being taken up in and through Christ to share in the inner relations of God's own life and love. It means that the eternal communion of love in God overflows through Jesus Christ into our union with Christ and gathers us up to dwell with God and in God." How can the human creature share in the inner life of God Himself without becoming divine? How does this not collapse the very Creator/creature distinction which Torrance seems committed to maintain?

2. When the human creature is "being taken up in and through Christ", are we talking about Christ's humanity or divinity? Does it not make a difference?

3. I am often hesitant to read or speak about the subjective reality of revelation that occurs within the individual and made possible through the work of the Holy Spirit. This is mostly due to the fact that I have no idea what individuals mean, Torrance included, when they make statements such as the individual undergoes a "relation of mutual indwelling between Christ and us, we are enfolded within the infinite dimensions of the love of God." What necessary consequences flow from this objective and subjective reality made possible within the individual through salvation? Do I simply cognitively assent that this is truth, do I have an experience that this has actually occurred (such as Christoph Blumhardt's charismatic experiences that radically influenced Barth - the breaking in of the Kingdom of God here and now), or does it simply mean that I slowly and continually seek first the Kingdom of God through self-sacrifice? I continually wonder how the reality of these statements concerning the doctrine of adoption fleshes itself out within the life of the individual.

That seems like enough for now!

Vulnerability and Glory

2011-05-03T00:42:00.004-04:00

In the midst of all the noise that came through every media outlet since late last night, I found this excerpt as a welcomed respite:

"The purpose of life before God is not to surpass vulnerability, but, in the words of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, to glorify and enjoy God.* That, in turn, requires receiving and sharing life as a vulnerable yet glorious gift of God and bearing it toward the full glory of God. Life before God is a field of multiple transformations, a moving space of tensions and conversions, that involves both ongoing resistance and ongoing affirmation. Testimonies to and collective participation in the grace and glory of God are received, shaped, and shared as vulnerable creatures live with and for others and before God. This account of vulnerability and glory contrasts with both sectarian and triumphalist options: the call and testimony of resistance and the itinerary of delight and gratitude are not lived solely within Christian communities and traditions - although they ought to be shaped and exemplified there - but also in everyday ways and in the whole of life.

Vulnerability is part of being creatures who are interdependent with other persons, living creatures, and the cosmos. The complexity of vulnerability is indicated in the story of Jacob at the ford of the river Jabbock, wrestling through the night with a mysterious stranger, who leaves Jacob both limping and transformed. It is found at the very heart of the Christian gospel in the story of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. Persons and communities remain susceptible to harm and therefore are almost inevitably marked by suffering and wrong, sometimes by unfathomable tragedy or brutality. And yet, even at the depths of suffering and devastation, human creatures and communities are always also vulnerable to transformation. Vulnerability is the situation in which earthly existence may be harmed and degraded; it is also the situation in which persons and communities may receive and bear the glory of God."

- Kristine Culp, Vulnerability and Glory, 181.

*I believe that this first line of the Westminster Catechism is problematic for a variety of reasons. The theistic language offers no witness to the particularity of God's self-revelation as Triune. Moreover, I find various aspects of reformed speech in relation to the doctrine of God to be incredibly patriarchal in terms of elevating the glory of God at the expense of speech about His love. But nonetheless, this excerpt was beautiful.

New Blogging Project.

2011-04-30T13:43:00.002-04:00

My degree is complete (yes!) and I finally get the chance to blog without guilt. I intentionally tried to do nothing of substance since last night, but I (pathetically) can not keep away from my books. As a result, I realized that I never wrote a post to announce that I will be joining the 2011 Reading Project with Jeremy and Adam! They kindly asked me if I would agree to start reading along with them and write posts on particular readings about once every three weeks. I thought it would be a great way to read a lot of material that I (sadly) have not yet gotten the chance to read. I know I'd never get all this reading accomplished on my own this summer. The following is the list of the particular works I will be writing about. The project is currently underway, but I won't start writing until June. Be sure to check out the project at Jeremy's blog!

Here's my (ambitious) assigned reading list:

• Bonhoeffer, Ethics, "History and Good [1] and [2]" and "Commandment of God in the Church" (06/12)

• Pannenberg, Systematic Theology I, Chapters 5-6, (07/03)

• Pannenberg, Systematic Theology II, Chapter 10-11 (07/24)

• Pannenberg, Systematic Theology III, Chapter 13, Part III §3 - Chapter 14 §3 (8/14)

• Robert Jenson, Systematic Theology I, Chapter 9 -14 (9/4)

• Jungel, God as Mystery of the World, Chapters 1 - 10 (9/25)

• Torrance, Doctrine of God, Chapters 1 - 5 (10/16)

• Gunton, Brief Theology of Revelation (11/6)

• Hunsinger, Disruptive Grace, Chapters 8-15 (11/27)

• Lindbeck, Nature of Doctrine (12/18)

Thomas F. Torrance: Theologian of the Trinity

2011-04-26T13:39:00.010-04:00

Be prepared for a host of future posts regarding T.F. Torrance. After Ben Myers, I call this my "binge reading" style. I have more books by him in my house right now from the library than I care to admit. But one secondary source I couldn't pass up purchasing was Paul Molnar's Thomas F. Torrance: Theologian of the Trinity. When it came in the mail today, I couldn't wait to dive in and start reading. This lead me to pace around the library with book in hand and devouring the first chapter. You wouldn't know I have to finish all my work to graduate by Friday!

What I am appreciating about Torrance is also what I appreciate so much about theologians like Luther, and Barth: there is such a strong existential component to their task as a theologian. Theology is not simply an investigation of another subject matter's object (though Torrance and Barth kept to this approach quite well), but it is the reflection and seeking of their Lord.

I was particularly moved by this following passage which I found to be as true today as it was during the early part of the twentieth century:

"[Torrance] relished ministering to soldiers in the front line and telling them of the Gospel. One particular incident stuck with Torrance for life. In October 1944 after an assault on San Martino-Sogliano during which he serviced as a stretcher bearer under fire, he came upon a mortally wounded 20-year-old solder named Private Philips who was lying on the ground and clearly did not have much time to live. As Torrance bent over him he said, 'Padre, is God really like Jesus?' Torrance assured him that he was and while he prayed with the man he passed away. But this question raised an important issue for Torrance himself: what had gone wrong in Christian theology that could lead someone to think in such a way that a wedge was driven between Jesus and God? This was the damage done by natural theology because it left the impression that there was a God 'behind the back' of Jesus himself. Years later, Torrance's wonderment was only confirmed once again when an elderly lady in his parish in Aberdeen asked a similar question to that of the solder on the battlefield: 'Dr Torrance, is God really like Jesus?' And again Torrance was troubled and asked, 'What have we been doing in our preaching and teaching in the church, to damage in the faith of our people the relation between their faith in Jesus Christ and God?'"

- Paul D. Molnar, Thomas F. Torrance: Theologian of the Trinity, 12.

Mt. Athos

2011-04-25T16:14:00.002-04:00

I've seen this CBS 60 minutes special covering the holy place of Mt. Athos circulating today. I decided to watch the videos for myself and became quickly enthralled with the content. I am thankful for the coverage since it is the closest I will ever get to seeing Mt. Athos considering they don't allow women to step foot on the peninsula. As a former EO catechumen, I sincerely admire these men; I had difficulty practicing the continual spiritual exercises that they carry out for nearly 21 hours a day. In a real sense, the one monk couldn't be more accurate when he says that there is a continual battle with the forces of darkness in the Orthodox spiritual way of life. Despite my decision to head back West, I can't really explain the longing and feelings of loss that occur when I view these majestic liturgies and formal times of worship. There truly is nothing quite like it on earth. Go here to see the videos:

Mt. Athos - Part 1

Mt. Athos - Part 2

Mt. Athos - 60 Minutes Overtime Bonus

Ayn Rand and "Objectivism"

2011-04-19T19:14:00.009-04:00

David Bentley Hart's article in First Things, which heavily and negatively critiques Ayn Rand's philosophy, is quickly circulating around the internets. In case you think that Hart's representation of Rand's views is hyperbolic or bias from his own Orthodox Christian beliefs, behold these videos. I have little to say, for they truly leave me speechless:

Not the Gospel?

2011-04-17T17:40:00.021-04:00

Someone recently brought this passage in Eberhard Busch's biography regarding some comments Barth once made about Billy Graham's method of evangelizing to my attention. I was hesitant to post this, but I will say that I have not been able to get this passage out of my mind since I read it. It is shocking, and well, quite interesting to say the least:

"The same frontier was evident in a conversation Barth had with Billy Graham, in August 1960. His son Markus brought them together in Valais. However, this meeting was also a friendly one. 'He's a "jolly good fellow", with whom one can talk easily and openly; one has the impression that he is even capable of listening which is not always the case with such trumpeters of the gospel.' Two weeks later Barth has the same good impression after a second meeting with Graham, this time at home in Basle. But, 'it was very different when we went to hear him let loose in the St Jacob stadium that same evening and witnessed his influence on the masses.' 'I was quite horrified. He acted like a madman and what he presented was certainly not the gospel.' 'It was the gospel at gun-point . . . He preached the law, not a message to make one happy. He wanted to terrify people. Threats - they always make an impression. People would much rather be terrified than pleased. The more one heats up hell for them, the more they come running.' But even this success did not justify such preaching. It was illegitimate to make the gospel law or 'to "push" it like an article for sale . . . We must leave the good God freedom to do his own work'."

Eberhard Busch, Karl Barth: His Life from Letters and Autobiographical Texts, 446.

On another but similar note, I read this "retweeted tweet" today (gosh, that sounds so ridiculous), and it really made me pause. It is from a fake Rob Bell twitter account and in an attempt to mock Bell's views of hell, the person wrote, "You know how hard it is to get on this stage at Mars Hill Church and tell people to start acting like they're saved w/ no threat of Hell? Hard." And I thought that ironically, this mocking statement (sadly) misses the point. I keep thinking that all of these little blurbs I hear or read about the necessity of God's eternal "No" to humanity misses the point. I also keep asking myself if I am missing the point, if I am sadly mistaken since isn't the common human experience to feel very alone in your thoughts, ideas, and struggles? But despite the doubt, I continually ponder the same questions: Do we preach judgment to motivate people from a place of fear in order to repent? Does the Apostle Paul not say that it is the kindness of the Lord that leads us to repentance? What kind of repentance do you get when it is motivated by an image of eternal languishing?

I remember when I first watched the following video from Trevor Hart (I'm going to transcribe it since I can't post in here). When the positive content of the Gospel is truly preached to the hearer, does it not finally offer a word of grace? Is Karl Barth correct when he says that God's "word to man from and to all eternity was and will be Jesus Christ"? (CD, IV.1, 57) In the same vein, Hart offers these sentiments in an interview with Grace Communion International. When I first watched this video, I remember feeling as though I had heard the Gospel again in a fresh way. I remember at one point coming to tears at the reality that God is fully and truly revealed in Jesus Christ. Don't we all fear, in some very real place, that when we come face to face with God after death, His word to us will be "Depart from me, sinner!" Hart's words reminds me that the Gospel offers hope to drown out the constant fear of questioning God's identity. In my opinion, Hart's words capture my issues with everything I said above and offer a word to humanity that is first and finally one of grace. Here is what Hart says:

"[In Karl Barth's theology] there is the sense of the God from first to last who is for us and determined to be for us no matter who we are, no matter what we've done, and no matter what we amount to. [This is the God] who values us not for our achievements but for who He has called us to be and of course who He has made us to be in His Son. That is so completely foundational to Barth's thought that it covers absolutely every chapter of the story he tells. I think people catch that and even if they don't understand it at first and they don't understand how it plays out in the larger structure of the Christian faith, most of the people that I have met who have read Barth and engaged with him at any length actually find that very attractive immediately and they find it is something they want to hear more of and really, of course, that's because it is the Gospel. It is the story of the God who gives all for us and who is determined to be for us ... there is no point of Barth's theology that this doesn't come up again and again ..."

The interviewer in the video then responds by asking with that said, many Calvinists might ask how do you know that you are among the elect of God without the evidence of your works?

Hart responds by beginning to talk about Barth's revolutionary doctrine of election of which some Reformed folks don't agree: "What Barth saw and shows is that you can't formulate a doctrine of election or any other doctrine simply by lifting verses from the page of Scripture and laying them out and putting them in a logical order. That is not how it works. It never has worked like that; you have to go further than that and relate doctrines to one another and asks questions about certain themes that have theological priority over others. Barth's fundamental conviction is that the theme of election, God's choosing, God's deciding and God's sovereignty is fundamental for how Christians conceive of God and should conceive of Him in biblical terms. It is the person of Christ that the center of theological gravity falls in Scripture and therefore in theology too (it should be). His thorough going insistence of what it might mean that God chooses concerning a person's eternal well-being in the light of Jesus Christ and [Barth's] refusal of the meaningfulness of talking about any God who is hidden behind Jesus Christ forced [Barth] to a very radical rereading of the doctrine [of election]. It's [Barth's] fundamental conviction that it is not in the text of the Bible pure and simple as some work of literature that God reveals Himself finally, it is in a human life lived, a death died, and raised to life again that God has made Himself known fully and finally and all the rest needs to be worked out in the light of what that means and the significance of that fact. And as Barth sees it, the significance of that fact is that this is who God wills to be and what He has done for each of us and whatever we say about election or any other theme has to reckon with that fact. That can't be something we've come to after we work out the other things, it has to be where we start. That God's purpose eternally was to be the man Jesus Christ and to do what He does in Christ for us."

The interviewer then goes on to ask "why is it so significant about when Jesus says if you have seen me, you have seen the Father? What is so important about that?"

This is where Hart delivers one of the most freeing word someone can hear: "One way of answering that question is pastorally rather than theologically. I am differentiating between them for a moment, but I don't want to drive a wedge between them. Let's look at it pastorally. Most people, if they think of God at all, have a question mark about what sort of God they are dealing with ... and it seems to me that even Christians sometimes live with this lurking suspicion that God might turn out to be rather unpleasant or to have a grudge against them or a case against them. What Barth sees and says so clearly is that the Christian life ought to be based solely on the God we see and the face of God that we see in Jesus - that actually we can be sure that God turns out finally to be like Jesus. That provides a huge ground for assurance because what do we see in Jesus? We see God forgiving sins, we see God loving the sinner, rehabilitating the sinner. And once we realize that the Father is no different than that from the Son He sends into the world to do it, then it banishes any spectors we might have of a God who even though Jesus is like that, [God] might turn out to be rather different. On a pastoral level in terms of the God we pray to day and night or the God we hope to meet at the end of our lives, if we live with a question mark it seems to me that we are going to live finally with fear, guilt and a suspicion and possibly be driven to some form of seeking to secure ourselves by earning salvation through good works or some form of that. It is very hard to shake that off completely when you don't know the answer to the question, "What is God like?" Once you come to the realization that God is no different than Jesus, that God's character - the Father's character - is fully reflected in the face of His Son, that sets you free from all of those fears, guilts, and suspicions and enables you to live life in a liberated way. A life that is born of out gratitude and joy rather than fear and guilt. So on a pastoral level, it seems to that we can say when it comes down to it, when it comes to talking about God there isn't anyone there who isn't fully reflected in the face of Jesus and Jesus' dealings with us.

[When talking about the vicarious humanity of Christ] we are talking about something which most evangelical Christians anyway will be fully familiar with as a category in one certain respect. That is to say, most evangelical Christians will be happy enough to think that Jesus did something in their stead. Most of them will think that thing that He did for them in their place is die on the cross and of course that is absolutely right. What is captured in the phrase "vicarious humanity" is the realization that is doesn't stop there. Actually, in Jesus, God stands in for us at almost every point of our relationship with Him because we fail Him at almost every point of our lives no matter how hard we struggle and strive even though most of us are very good as struggling and striving. We don't do it. We're not very good covenant partners for God most of the time. In vicarious humanity God stands in for us in all aspects of life and it is not simply in His death that God does we can't do, but it is in His faith and obedience, too and in His responses to the Father. And at each point, God looks in Him and through Him and together with Him and we are not standing together isolated on our own ... we are clothed with Christ. When the Father looks at us He sees Christ - Christ's response, Christ's obedience, Christ's prayer, Christ's faith - and the biblical category is not vicarious humanity but priesthood. Jesus is the great high priest who mediates our human responses to God through Himself to the Father ... but the flip side of this and its a vital flip side is that it sets us free to do it for ourselves. It sets us free to do it because we are not afraid of falling. We are not afraid of getting it wrong. Why? Because our eternity doesn't hang on whether we get it wrong or not. Our eternity rests on His response made for us. So we can get on and do it! Because if we fall, He will pick us up, and in the mean time we grow more like Him so that our faith becomes more adequate, and our prayer becomes more appropriate and our obedience becomes more identifiable as the Spirit gradually makes us more like Jesus. But our relationship on God doesn't rest on any of that, our relationship for God rests once and for all not just on the cross, but from every point from his birth through to His resurrection."

And in a moment of true honesty, the interviewer responds by saying, "that is so radical in terms of the way people think. Why is it that something that good is so difficult to accept? Why are we afraid of it? It is as though we think if I believe that, and I accept it, then it is like saying that I don't have to do anything, and Christ has done it all. If I accept that God won't like me because I am assuming on His kindness. Some preachers even get angry about it and say don't listen to that kind of nonsense because God calls you to obedience!"

Hart responds: "One reason why someone might be uncomfortable with it might be that it could be seen to encourage the approach that if Jesus is seen to have done it all for me, I don't have to do it myself, do I? What we call in theological terms, "antinomianism." That is a worry - we can do almost anything with grace, can't we? We can reject it, we can turn it to what we think is our advantage. But of course that is not proper to the idea or the reality itself and that is why I said Jesus does it for us precisely so that we can do it for ourselves and the work of the Spirit draws us into the Son's work and brings it to fulfillment in individual lives. And that is one reason I can imagine a preacher being nervous because maybe he can imagine how his people won't try so hard anymore. Well, maybe they are trying too hard in the first place. Maybe trying is not what it is about. ... it probably is an irrational fear and isn't it itself a little bit of a resurgence of sinful pride in us as preachers or individual Christian men and women? Because, you know, grace has this one massive advantage which is also a big galling in that it says that God isn't taking your response in a certain sense as the most important responses. So it devalues the things we think we like to take to God to deal with Him. I bring my little bit of righteousness along to God and say, "Here God, I have something for you." Don't get me wrong, I think God delights when we bring righteousness before Him but what He doesn't like is when we try and make it the basis of a trade as if we have something to give to Him and now He can give something back to us. The Gospel of grace understood in this way and this category of vicarious humanity really robs us of that because it gives us nothing left we can give to God and say "God you need this and here I am giving it to you so now you give me something that I need." That's gone. Everything has to be predicated upon the idea that God gives everything freely. Even those of us who believe this Gospel still on occasion find ourselves thinking, I suspect, that I'd rather like it if I had something I could give back to God. Well, you can give it freely and joyfully."

You can watch the whole video here.

The Community

2011-04-08T12:05:00.009-04:00

I probably should not admit how often I read Karl Barth's Evangelical Theology (ET). It has become more of an encouragement to me as I seek formal theological training than anything else I have read. Perhaps no one in the history of the Church has so clearly articulated the task of theology not only for the individual theologian, but more importantly for the community of believers. I have become increasingly weary of how easily the term "orthodox" is thrown around by various circles within the Christian Church. The lines of orthodoxy are increasingly drawn to include smaller and smaller circles. It can be very disheartening as the Church seems to continue to lose its purpose and vision which is the attempt to offer a true witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Moreover, recognizing this continual tragedy can lead the observer to embrace a genuine level of bitterness, self-righteousness, and cynicism. The requests for mercy and protection seem to have increased over the past few years and I am just starting in the theological world! In an attempt to find some sort of bearings, I turned once again to ET and found this lovely little gem that helps to clarify and reinforce the true and worthy goal of the individual theologian and the Church. It is quite the vision for the Church; one which entails both pain and joy. I hope it encourages you as much as it encouraged and comforted me:

"The question about truth, therefore, is not stated in the familiar way: is it true that God exists? Does God really have a covenant with man? Is Israel really his chosen people? Did Jesus Christ actually die actually die for our sins? Was he truly raised from the dead for our justification? And is he in fact our Lord? This is the way fools ask in their hearts - admittedly such fools as we are all in the habit of being. In theology the question about truth is stated on another level: does the community properly understand the Word in its purity as the truth? Does it understand with appropriate sincerity the Word that was spoken in and with all those events? Does the community reflect on the Word painstakingly and speak of it in clear concepts? And is the community in a position to render its secondary testimony responsibly and with good conscience? These are the questions posed for the community, questions that are really urgent only for the people of God, and with regard to which no positive answer can ever or anywhere be taken for granted. Even the most able speech of the most living faith is a human work. And this means that the community can go astray in its proclamation of the Word of God, in its interpretation of the biblical testimony, and finally in its own faith. Instead of being helpful, it can be obstructive to God's cause in the world by an understanding that is partly or wholly wrong, by devious or warped thought, by silly or too subtle speech. Every day the community must pray that this may not happen, but it must also do its own share of earnest work toward this goal. This work is theological work.

There is no other way. In principle the community and the whole of Christianity are required and called to do such work. The question to be unceasingly posed for the community and for all its members is whether the community is a true witness ...

Since the Christian life is consciously or unconsciously also a witness, the question of truth concerns not only the community but the individual Christian. He too is responsible for the quest for truth in this witness. Therefore, every Christian as such is also called to be a theologian."

- Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology, 39-40.

A Theology of the Intellectual Life

2011-04-05T14:07:00.002-04:00

I found out via Twitter (I guess it is useful for something) that John Webster will be giving a lecture tonight at 7:30 PM at Wheaton College entitled "A Theology of the Intellectual Life." I tried calling the supplied number to see if they will record the lecture, but no one was available. If you are in the area, you should definitely try your best to attend. Professor Webster is the greatest living theologian, in my opinion, and his scholarship has transformed my theological thinking. You will not only be deeply intellectually challenged, but there is always an existential component to his work which leaves the recipient in a state of worship. Don't miss it. For more information, go here.

O'Donovan: Begotten Not Made

2011-04-04T19:53:00.008-04:00

In an attempt to procrastinate, I perused the new book section of the library again this afternoon. I stumbled upon Oliver O'Donovan's Begotten or Made?. Since I immediately thought that he was speaking to the Niceaen controversy, I almost lunged to grab this book off the shelf. Instead, O'Donovan deals with the issues of technology, medicine, and artificial procreation. The following excerpt from the first three pages (rather lengthy) were not only beautiful, but moving. While technology is nothing to be ashamed of or diminish (blogger bias, obviously), O'Donovan speaks about the subtle ways in which technological advances infects our thought processes. When everything in society can be made, why not allow such advances to infiltrate our understanding of human life? There is a sense in which O'Donovan wishes to encourage the romantic sentiment that human life is sacred and created by that which transcends us. His impulse seems to want to recover the essential aspects of that which makes us human and deny that everything can be created or made by human technology and machines. I appreciate that. Enjoy.

"When the fathers of the Council of Nicaea declared, in words familiar to every Christian who recites their creed, that the only Son of God the Father was 'begotten, not made', they intended to make a simple point. The Son was 'of one being with the Father.' He was God, just as God the Father was God. And to emphasize the point they used an analogy, based upon our twofold human experience of forming things other than ourselves. That which we beget is like ourselves. (I shall use the word 'beget', as the ancients did, to speak of the whole human activity of procreation, and not in the modern way, meaning especially the male side of the activity.) Our offspring are human beings, who share with us one common human nature, one common human experience and one common human destiny. We do not determine what our offspring is, except by ourselves being that very thing which our offspring is to become. Just so, the fathers said, the eternal Son of God who was not made, was of the Father's being, not his will. But that which we make is unlike ourselves. Whether it is made of matter, like a wooden table, or of words like a lecture, or of sounds like a symphony, or of colours and shapes like a picture, or of images like an idea, it is the product of our own free determination. We have stamped the decisions of our will upon the material which the world has offered us, to form it in this way and not in that. What we 'make', then, is alien from our humanity. In that it has a human maker, it has come to existence as a human project, its being at the disposal of mankind. It is not fit to take its place alongside mankind in fellowship, for it has no place beside hi on which to stand: man's will is the law of its being. That which we beget can be, and should be, our companion; but the product of our art - whatever immeasurable satisfaction and enjoyment there may be both in making it and in cherishing it - can never have the independence to be that 'other I', equal to us and differentiated from us, which we acknowledge in those who are begotten of human seed.

In making this contrast with reference to the eternal Son of God the Nicene fathers used an analogy. Like all analogies, it has its limitations. We cannot speak of 'begetting' in the divine being without making it clear what aspects of the analogy are not applicable to the life of godhead. At the same time, we cannot say that any human beings are 'begotten, not made' in the same absolute sense that we can say it of the Son of God. For all human beings begotten of other human beings are, at the same time, 'made' by God. Of no human being can it be said that he is simply 'not made', that he is at nobody's disposal, that no higher will acts as the law of his being. God's will is such a law for every human being, and every human being is at the disposal of God. Human beings, begotten of human seed, are also made; even Jesus Christ, considered simply as a human being is a 'creature' of God. Nevertheless, the ground of the analogy holds. A being who is the 'maker' of any other being is alienated from that which he has made, transcendent of 'begetting' is to speak of quite another possibility than this: the possibility that one may form another being who will share one's own nature, and with whom one will enjoy a fellowship based on radical equality.

In this book we have to speak of 'begetting' - not the eternal begetting of the godhead, but the temporal begetting of one creature by another. We have to consider the position of this human 'begetting' in a culture which has been overwhelmed by 'making' - that is to say, in a technological culture. And here we must stress a point that is often made by those who have taught us how to think about our technological culture - we may mention George Grant's Technology and Empire - and Jacques Ellul's The Technological Society - that what marks this culture most importantly, is not anything that it does, but what it thinks. It is not 'technological' because its instruments of making are extraordinarily sophisticated (though that is evidently the case), but because it thinks of everything is does as a form of instrumental making. Politics (which should surely be the most non-instrumental of activities) is talked of as 'making a better world'; love is 'building a successful relationship'. There is no place for simply doing. The fate of society which sees, wherever it looks, nothing but the products of the human will, is that it fails, when it does see some aspect of human activity which is not a matter of construction, to recognize the significance of what it sees and to think about it appropriately. This blindness in the realm of thought is the heart of what it is to be a technological culture.

Nevertheless, though thought comes first, there are implications in the realm of practice too. Such a society is incapable of acknowledging the inappropriateness of technological intervention in certain types of activity. When every activity is understood as making, then every situation into which we act is seen as raw material, waiting to have something made out of it. If there is no category in thought for an action which is not artificial, then there is no restraint in action which can preserve phenomena which are not artificial. This imperils not only, or even primarily, the 'environment' (as we patronizingly describe the world of things which are not human); it imperils what it is to be human, for it deprives human existence itself of certain spontaneities of being and doing, spontaneities which depend upon the reality of a world which we have not made or imagined, but which simply confronts us to evoke our love, fear, and worship. Human life, then, becomes mechanized because we cannot comprehend what it means that some human activity is 'natural'. Politics becomes controlled by media of mass communication, love by analytical or counseling techniques. And begetting children becomes subject to the medical and surgical interventions which are the theme of this book."

- Oliver O'Donovan, Begotten or Made?, 1-3, emphasis added.

Theologia Crucis.

2011-03-30T12:44:00.013-04:00

I didn't always understand the hype of the photo above. I am embarrassed to admit that when I was initially introduced to this photo in my first theology class, I did not understand why my professor made such a fuss about it. He kept talking about how in this photo, God is most fully revealed yet at the same time God is profoundly hidden. He started preaching rather dramatically about those who observe Jesus Christ on a cross and exclaim "this is your God! He is dead! He has been conquered by the world, murdered by His accusers! What kind of God is this that you pledge allegiance to Him?" In my own sense of self-righteousness, I at once felt incredibly pleased with the fact that I knew that the true God was fully revealed here in the cross. Only the proud and ignorant can not see that this is God most glorified. This is where the Savior of the world defeated the power of Satan and bore the sins of the world as the lamb of God! I am a Christian! See me!

It would take three years to realize that I barely understand this painting or the truth found therein.

Let me explain. As someone who loosely identifies with the Reformed tradition, I believe it is important to have a high view of God's transcendence and sovereignty. This became all the more apparent when I took the Karl Barth seminar at HDS. I remember presenting my paper on the doctrine of election during my week to speak before the class. I specifically discussed Barth's extensive coverage of the historical intricacies between supralapsarianism and infralapsarianism. To my relief, Barth ended up on the side of supralapsarianism but he took a lot of the sting out of the traditional formulation. There was another student in the class who objected to Barth's sympathies with a (revised) version of supralapsarianism. As he began to argue continually for the importance of infralapsarianism, I realized that the problem of evil was subtly lurking in his mind. And he came to a point where he expressed reservations that anything more (less?) than infralapsarianism leads into some type of monism. Therefore, there can not be any genuine speech about the life and choices of Jesus Christ. And even worse, there was never anything at stake with the cross. Holy Saturday does not serve as any type of anxiety or questioning since there was never any other possibility except for resurrection Sunday. I was immediately offended in some sense by his suggestions. With my compatibilist sympathies, I responded by asking "does this mean that we have to believe that Jesus had the power of contrary choice in order to make sense of his suffering, temptation, and prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane? Surely not! What would that mean? Jesus Christ has the power to choose that which is not according to God's will? How is that even a genuine possibility for Jesus Christ, as fully God, to chose anything but that which is according to the character of God? If He could, that means that the Son would be able to rebel against the Father and the Trinity itself would be in opposition and then God would contradict God and everything would cease to exist and fall into infinite nothingness! Is that really what we want to say?" To this day, I am unsure what he would have said as a response since my professor took over the conversation and added something else that was more pressing to the specific section of the reading. But it really bothered me that someone would suggest that God's sovereignty need be tempted in order to rescue some sort of authenticity.

I say all of this because I realized how much I have changed since that moment in seminar. Today, I came across Jeremy's post regarding the tension found within the Incarnation and the cross of Christ (by the way, Jeremy has been and continues to be one of the best theological bloggers on the web - read him often). While I might not agree with his overall inclinations to ultimately go beyond Barth, I appreciate his questions more than I can say. I looked up the passage in the CD which he quotes and was amused to find it underlined with question marks in the margins. Here Barth discusses the tension between the sovereignty and transcendence of God in Godself and the lowliness and weakness of God in Christ:

The incarnation of the Word, the human being of God, His condescension, His way into the far country, His existence in the forma servi, is something which we can understand - this is (or appears to be) the first alternative - by supposing that in it we have to do with a novum mysterium (in the strict and literal sense of the expression of Melito of Sardis), with what is noetically and logically and absolute paradox, with what is ontologically the fact of a cleft or rift or gulf in God Himself, between His being and essence in Himself and His activity and work as the Reconciler of the world created by Him. It therefore pleased Him in this latter, for the redemption of the world, not to alter Himself, but to deny the immutability of His being, His divine nature, to be in discontinuity with Himself, to be against Himself, to set Himself in self-contradiction. In Himself He was still the omnipresent, almighty, eternal and glorious One, the All-Holy and All-Righteous who could not be tempted. But at the same time among us and for us He was quite different, not omnipresent and eternal but limited in time and space, not almighty but impotent, not glorious but lowly, and open to radical and total attack in respect of His righteousness and holiness. His identity with Himself consisted strictly in His determination to be God, our God, the Reconciler of the world, in this inner and outer antithesis to Himself. The quo iure, the possibility of the incarnation, of His becoming man, consisted in this determination of God to be "God against God," in His free will to be this, in His fathomless mercy as the meaning and purpose of that will.

- Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV.1, 184, emphasis added.

When I first read this passage, I was incredibly adverse to any sentiments that there was any type of tension concerning the Incarnation of Jesus Christ and the divinity of God. Any such genuine tension would mean that God is not the God who I believe He must be in order to be worshipped. He is the God that you behold and scoff at and think, "this is your God!?" In a very profound way, I realized when I reread this passage that the God revealed in the cross and in the painting above really is the God that does not accord with the deepest expectations of humanity. He is a God that offends us if we witness Him most fully revealed. And even in His revealedness, He remains hidden continually. I wonder if I could ever truly claim to believe that God is revealed in the cross beyond some emotional sentiment that I had when I thought about Him suffering for me. I continually refused to see the identity of God in the suffering and humility of Jesus. The experience of the crucifixion was sheerly a utilitarian means to accomplish the ends of my salvation.

But then I find that I also experience the opposite offense in HDS classes through the apophatic theology found through the Early Christian Fathers Eastern Tradition class last semester and Negative Theology class this semester. I wrote these hesitations before but I will explain again because the same assumptions were reinforced in class yesterday. In apophatic theology, there is the idea that God is so incredibly transcendent, and therefore He is epistemologically unknowable for the human person. The only way to truly have any sort of genuine communion with God is through a spiritual experience through the various theories of language or meditation. Obviously this is a gross oversimplification, but the fact remains that within apophatic theology the line between the infinite (God) and the finite (humanity) is strict and is never overcome. One of my professors in Negative Theology yesterday gave a lecture about the negative theology of Anselm found within his understanding and use of language. It was a rather obscure lecture but he drew a diagram on the board and drew a line between the Divine with the term Infinite next to it and then the object with the term finite next to it. The two realms never meet. A student promptly asked if such a divide is putting unwarranted limitations upon the Godhead and telling God what is possible for Godself. The professor responded by saying that he is simply holding to the traditional understanding that God can not do anything that is self-contradictory. Therefore, God can not in any way step into the finite so to speak since this would contradict His very being and he would argue that Anselm is operating from the same understanding. But I immediately was offended by these human-imposed standards since I immediately wanted to ask him how this particular position makes sense of the Incarnation. In Jesus Christ, God becomes objective revelation when He chooses to unite Himself to human flesh. Post council of Nicaea, I do not understand how the Christian tradition can genuinely believe that God is epistemologically transcendent since He has fully revealed Himself in the human person of Jesus Christ. Even though God is always in control of the knowing event as the Subject of revelation, He truly became an object of knowledge. It seems that under this mindset of apophaticism, God is not truly and fully present nor revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

So I find myself in this constant state of tension between offense when some want to have a robust sense of God's weakness and lowliness in the Incarnation and death of Jesus Christ. But I also find myself offended by those who champion God's transcendence at the expense of recognizing that which has been radically accomplished in the person and work of Jesus Christ. God is so transcendent that He has the freedom to determine to be the God for us. I am surprised to say that at this point in my theological development, I am more troubled by apophatic theological assumptions than by any understanding that speaks of God's lowliness and tension within Godself. But unlike Jeremy, I am satisfied to some extent that Barth stops where he does. I realize that this is a very crude example but it will serve my purposes: if God were truly able to "die" as Jeremy says, then this would mean that God is changed by His creation. If I have a disease and go to see a doctor for treatment, I don't expect the doctor to transmit the disease himself in order to believe that such a doctor is worthy of claiming the title or earn the label of "compassionate." Rather, I want the doctor to act in compassion by remaining healthy and treating my disease. Unless he remains free from disease, my doctor is not free to treat me. In this very pathetic example, I see the same principle applies to God - how can he rescue humanity from the death that comes through evil and sin if He dies in Himself? If we go beyond the tension and say that God dies within Godself, are we sacrificing the hiddenness of God in the cross?

But one thing is for sure. The truth revealed in the painting above demands a theologia crucis that God is glorified in His lowliness and suffering, not compromised because of it.

Revelation as Miracle

2011-03-28T15:58:00.005-04:00

"Theology, which is itself contingent on faith and proclamation while it is a human activity, is, Barth urges, one which is only possible at all because God has first spoken and given himself to be known: 'Theologians are people who speak about God' (GD, p. 46). But they dare (and find themselves compelled) to do so precisely and only because of this prior divine address apart from which knowledge of and speech about God is an impossibility for humans. Again, this must be seen as an a posteriori judgment: there are plenty of people who speak about 'God' and sense no presumption in doing so; but for the person who actually knows God, who has been drawn into the circle of God's presence, who has some sense of the reality to whom the word 'God' properly refers, the paradoxical impossibility and necessity of human speech about God is all too apparent."

- Trevor Hart, "Revelation" in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, 41.

This week at the Anglican Writer's Block, I am assigned to write a blog entry concerning the doctrine of revelation for the current series entitled "Dogmatics in Dialogue." I must confess that the task of writing about the doctrine of revelation is quite burdensome and overwhelming especially when such a goal is coupled with the desire to write in a way that is accessible to the laity. I have been thinking about the various issues that surround the doctrine and decided that the two most pressing questions are these: what is the doctrine of revelation? and why is the doctrine of revelation essential for the dogmatic task? In attempting to answer both questions, I am continually struck by the reality that the event of revelation is truly nothing short of a miracle. The impossible reality of creaturely knowledge concerning God becoming a reality within the life of the Church is cause for worship and adoration. The event of God's full self-disclosure in the person of Jesus Christ and the continual unfolding of His self-disclosure within the Church by the power of the Holy Spirit is the essence of the Christian life. Let's see if I can communicate all of that successfully.

New England Anglican Studies Conference

2011-03-27T22:52:00.009-04:00

I recently found out that the first annual New England Anglican Studies Conference will take place this Saturday, April 2nd from 8:30 AM-5:30 PM at Harvard Divinity School. Registration starts by 8:30 AM and the first welcoming session is in the huge Sperry Room starting at 9 AM. The official title for the conference is "The Open Body: Anglicans Dwelling In, With, and Outside the Tradition." The main session will include an address from Harvard's R.R. Niebuhr Professor of Divinity Mark Jordan (currently co-teaching Negative Theology this semester with Dr. Charles Stang) There will be multiple breakout sessions including one with my professors from both last and this current semester, Dr. Stang. I am especially looking forward to Elizabeth Anderson's (Yale University) talk entitled "Facebook, Blogging, and Embodied Ecclesiology." If you are near the Boston area, you should try to attend! The cost is only $15 dollars and the various sessions seem promising.

Princeton

2011-03-21T16:55:00.009-04:00

After what seems like a lifetime of questioning and planning, I have officially decided to accept an offer of admission to the Masters of Divinity (M.Div) program at Princeton Theological Seminary this fall. I am relieved that the decision-making process is finally over. Obviously, I am very disappointed that I will not be attending the University of Aberdeen. While I would like nothing more than to move to beautiful Scotland and work under the supervision of scholars like John Webster, the M.Div at PTS makes more sense for me at this time. I came home to Philadelphia this past weekend and had serious discussions with my parents about this decision. It became clear that despite the many positives about Aberdeen, PTS works better not only for me, but for my entire family. My parents have been encouraging me to live on-campus in an apartment next year instead of living at home and commuting. When I voiced concerns about saving money, they graciously offered to help me financially in this area. I am continually humbled by the faithfulness of God that sustains me in every way, including financially, as I seek to be obedient to the privilege of serving Him through higher academia. Apart from the obvious advantages of PTS (the Center for Karl Barth studies, the libraries, endless bookstores, aesthetic of the town, access to Princeton University), I am thrilled to study in a place that offers theological diversity. Even though I wouldn't trade my education at Gordon-Conwell for anything, I believe that the classes I took at Harvard Divinity were the most beneficial and challenging experiences that I've ever had during my graduate education. I realize that PTS is not as diverse as a place like Harvard Divinity (though some might make the case that it is less diverse than PTS), it will still offer a level of exposure to a variety of perspectives that I have not had through my largely evangelical education. I'd like to officially say that I am very grateful to the number of current students at both PTS and Aberdeen who have taken the time to converse with me about this decision. I am encouraged by the number of theology students in the Church and look forward to witnessing the Lord continually guide us all as we seek to order our speech after the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

In short, I am excited about this next step!

Christoph Blumhardt

2011-03-03T22:37:00.005-05:00

Someone showed me this book today that was published about a year ago by Continuum Books entitled Pneumatology and Theology of the Cross in the Preaching of Christoph Blumhardt by Simeon Zahl. If I am not mistaken, I do not remember this book being mentioned on blogs or even discussed much among academics. This troubles me for two reasons:

1. If Karl Barth's personal theological development was significantly influenced by Christoph Blumhardt, why would not more dialogue take place about such an excellent study? Anyone who has read Eberhard Busch's biography of Karl Barth's life and theology knows that Barth's exposure to the charismatic events surrounding Blumhardt's ministry significantly changed Barth's entire theological paradigm. The silence puzzles me.

2. As one who has experienced the best and worst of the charismatic movement and then continuing to embrace reformed doctrine (that statement needs to be qualified but I'll leave it for now), I personally find any study connecting Pentecostalism to the best of the classic Protestant tradition to be incredibly beneficial!

In short, despite my bewilderment, I am thrilled to begin reading this book.

Jesus of Nazareth was God's Word or God's Son.

2011-03-02T17:06:00.010-05:00

At the risk of sounding like a heretic, let me be very transparent for a moment: when one thoroughly studies the trinitarian and christological controversies throughout the first millennium, one might often wonder if the heretics were actually correct. Afterall, they do make so much sense! The Church continually pushes forward paradoxes that make the average person frustrated at some level. I personally understand why Arius believed based on pure exegesis alone that Jesus was not ontologically equal with God the Father. Many might throw a bunch of proof texts at me, or rather give me instances where "Jesus could not have done _______ or said _______ unless He was truly God!" But to be honest, I find those sorts of approaches very unconvincing. Afterall, there does seem to be speech about "sending", being "sent", "submission" to the Father's will, and language about Sonship ... not to mention the term "begotten" which has gotten the Church in a frenzy and still continues to cause controversy up to the present. While I struggle with the seeming lack of on-the-surface biblical warrant for Jesus' identity as fully God, I nonetheless believe and confess such doctrine every Sunday when I recite the Nicene Creed. Despite this, I still find typical approaches to "proving" or "providing account" for His full divinity rather porous.

In light of everything above, I was deeply comforted after reading the following passage from Karl Barth in paragraph 13 of the Church Dogmatics. Barth is very honest about the fact that sheer exegesis can't get one to the full divinity of Jesus Christ. But that doesn't mean the Church must abandon such a confession. In short, he reminds the Church of the necessity for dogmatics! Read and behold:

We come now, on the basis of the New Testament witness, to speak more specifically of this simple, once-for-all reality of Jesus Christ. The Word or Son of God became a Man and was called Jesus of Nazareth; therefore this Man Jesus of Nazareth was God's Word or God's Son. Before attempting to understand the content of this statement we have also, in view of its place and significance, to make the following points clear.

1. In regard to the exegetical question, it must be said that this twofold statement, whether as such or in its two constituent parts, is not very often found in so many words in the New Testament. As a rule, only one of its two parts appears at certain solemn climaxes in the New Testament witness, where it is manifestly the writer's business to gather up what has been said before coming to the ultimate fact, i.e., before coming to the name Jesus Christ itself. But this confession does not seem to come easily from their lips. Nor is it frequent. On the whole they prefer other ways of laying bare its truth to explicit articulation. There is, moreover, no single passage in which this confession is formulated with the dogmatic exactitude which we might like, or in which it is actually formulated at a later period. The christological dogma, like that of the Trinity, is obviously not the text but the commentary on the text. No where in the Bible is it found word for word. It must also be noted that this confession simply does not appear at every point at which its appearance might be expected. There are important passages in the New Testament witness where it is even lacking.

As a rule it is to be found between the lines and inferred by the reader or hearer from what is otherwise said directly or indirectly about the name Jesus Christ. It awaits, as it were, the reader's or hearer's own confession. These facts might weigh heavily upon a dogmatics especially eager for as clear, comprehensive and precise an answer to its questions as possible. They cannot surprise us. The New Testament is an instrument of proclamation and witness; it is neither a historical exposition nor a systematic treatise. The modest task of dogmatics it has left to the Church, to us. But it is possible that by the very reserve with which it handles the confession at this central point, it might direct us more forcibly to the twofold statement as being well-nigh the final import of its utterances.

- Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, I.2, 13-14, emphasis mine.

Photo credit: here

Recent Happenings.

2011-03-01T19:52:00.010-05:00

Since more family and friends will eventually read this blog, I figured it would be a good idea to include a more personal post about recent events in my life. So these are the most important things that have been happening lately:

1. I have officially decided to become Anglican. I can't tell you how seriously I take this decision, especially considering my ecclesiological journey since my freshman year of college. I am excited to become a part of something much larger than myself and publicly confess among the other members of the Church that I am committing to this particular confession. From my days in the charismatic movement, to the house churches, to the Episcopal Church, then to the Orthodox Church and then back again to the Anglican Church, I am thankful that the Lord has brought me to a place where I can serve the Kingdom of God most faithfully. I appreciate so much about the Anglican Church despite its many flaws. But most of all, I think that the Anglican Church is truly the place where ecumenical dialogue can take place. My heart is not only for the Gospel of Jesus Christ to be preached throughout the world, but also within the global Church itself. Our Lord and Savior prayed the night before His death that His people would be one. I genuinely believe that this prayer intends for both an internal as well as external reality.

2. I've begun to think through the possibility of becoming a permanent deacon within the Anglican Church. I have no desire to become a priest, but I do have a desire to tangibly serve the entire body of Christ on a regular basis. I am thinking through what this would mean and look like as a permanent office of the Church rather than using it as a means to become a priest (which is often the case). I often forget that while speech about the Gospel is crucial and should not be diminished in importance, the deeds of mercy, justice, and compassion are also essential for the Christian life. I can not explain how excited I am at the prospect of having a tangible and constant avenue for practicing my belief that I should serve as the Lord Himself served.

3. I was asked to be a regular blogger at the Anglican's Writer's Block which is an online theology resource for the entire Anglican Church. It seeks to cultivate theological conversation not only among academics within the Anglican Church, but rather among the laity for the sake of ordering the Church's words and deeds after the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I will be posting on the doctrine of revelation and the doctrine of election in the coming weeks, which will primarily be targeted for the common reader. The topics alone are daunting, not to mention trying to relate such crucial and often high-brow doctrines to the laity. But I am thrilled at the opportunity to connect these doctrines to the very heart of everyday life. What could be more beneficial? Go here to learn more.

4. I was accepted into the MTh program at the University of Aberdeen! I am still waiting to hear from Princeton Theological Seminary (I applied for the M.Div program). I am starting the application process for a few scholarships, but at this point, I am at an impasse. I feel the weight of my decision more and more everyday. Both institutions would offer exceptional resources to study the theology of Karl Barth. Princeton is close to my parent's home, so I would be able to live at home and spend those days with my beloved Grams before she eventually transitions into supervised living. But in terms of Aberdeen ... well, let's face it, we are talking about Scotland! There are positives and negatives to both decisions, and I have a lot more thinking to do. Regardless, I am thrilled for these opportunities (if PTS accepts me, obviously!).

5. I graduate in May with a Masters in Theology from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. I am really excited about finally crossing the finish line after three wonderful, difficult, taxing, joyful years here at GCTS. I remember doubting whether or not I should attend GCTS, and now I can't imagine who I would be if I didn't choose to take the leap of faith. Before I came to seminary, I knew I felt "called" (whatever that means) to seminary, but I had my doubts (read: debt). But it was through my time at Gordon-Conwell, the life-shaping classes I've taken at Harvard Divinity, and the exposure to Karl Barth's theology that I realized I have a desire to pursue a place in academia. More than that, I can't believe how much the Lord has taught me through the past three years, especially about relationships. To say I've been broken on more than one occasion would not be an exaggeration. The Lord has graciously revealed so much to me about my own shortcomings and has given me grace through friendships and mentors who have reminded me that this is what the life of the Christian is all about. Despite everything, I can't say enough good things about GCTS and my time in seminary.

6. This is perhaps the most difficult thing to write, but I'm learning that part of the process in my formation is honesty. I have been a stutterer since I was 5 years old. I grew out of it eventually before the age of 10 (I believe). But around my junior year of college it had returned. I remember giving a speech in my Christian Political Thought class and I had tremendous difficulty forming sentences. I'm sure that everyone listening just chalked it up to nervousness since believe it or not the same impediment hadn't made its way into my daily speech at that point. Since attending seminary, I've noticed more and more that I've been struggling with my speech. Before this year only my parents ever knew that I had a stuttering problem since I was little outside the few individuals that witnessed it during my childhood. Most people, including my parents, assumed that I had outgrown the problem. So I silently battled with the problem finding more and more ways to conceal my struggle. Then I was asked to present my paper on Karl Barth's doctrine of election at the Gordon-Conwell Theology Forum. I remember reading the paper a dozen times aloud on my own (which is quite the task mind you, given the fact that it is 32 pages!) and hoping that with enough prayer I'd be fine. The moment came to read my paper in front of all my peers and professors. I had a tremendous amount of pauses before words and even skipped over certain words I knew would take me a considerable amount of time to say. When you are a stutterer, you learn to "word replace" so that you don't have to say a particular word that you know before you say it will be a problem. You become a walking thesaurus. But when you read a paper in front of people, you can't word replace any longer; you are exposed. Within a matter of two minutes, everyone in the room found out about my disability that I tried for so long to conceal. Most were shocked, and mercifully, my wonderful professor offered to continue reading for me. Needless to say, this was a very painful experience for me. I began to question why I even came this far, attended seminary, and considered higher academia. How can a stutterer teach seminars, let alone read papers in front of hundreds of people? I will spare you the details of the sadness and brokenness that came that evening. But the gracious Lord eventually makes all things for the good of those who love Him. I realized that night that it took something like the theology forum to humble me enough to make me realize that I need help. I ended up e-mailing a speech therapist and I will be going through a three week intensive speech fluency program this summer. Now I know most people that know me and have read this post are probably thinking, "what in the world?! I've seen The King's Speech and Kait does not sound anything like that, in fact, I never even knew she stutters!" But there are three types of stuttering: 1) The classic repetition (wo...wo...wo...word), 2) Prolongation (wwwwwwwword), 3) Blocking which are pauses (.....word). I suffer from the third problem with a bit of the second. After talking with the speech therapist during our initial consultation, she informed me that with most stuttering, the lines between the reality of the actual impediment and the mental barriers are very fuzzy. While I do have a speech impediment, there is also an incredible mental component. Therefore, the fluency program this summer will be holistic and address both the physical and mental aspects of speech. I am rather apprehensive to enter this program; I can not tell you how humbling it has been to finally admit to this problem. But my speech therapist assured me that not only is my particular case mild, but it is very manageable. While I will always struggle, it doesn't have to control me. And yes, I saw The King's Speech, and yes, it changed my life. I never knew that a film would be made that could capture the emotional and personal trials that I have suffered in private. Colin Firth moved me more than I can verbalize. So cheers to the Academy for recognizing such a spectacular film!

So there you have it, my exciting and rather eventful life as of recently! Thanks for reading such a long post. And pray for me if you think of it, because there is so much happening in the coming months; I need the grace and mercy of God more than ever.

Letter from Barth to Bromiley

2011-02-28T12:34:00.000-05:00

There do not seem to be a shortage of controversies and squabbles within the Christian community. One need look no further than the current controversy over Rob Bell's new book to realize the truth of that statement! When debates like this occur, I often find comfort in the controversy and criticism that surrounded Karl Barth's theology. Barth was never short of critics, and some of his most vocal opponents came from the conservative evangelicals within the United States. The details of the relationship between conservative North American evangelicals and Barth are a bit complicated, so I will save you from a long discussion about the matter. But in short, conservative North American evangelicals were concerned with Barth's views of Scripture and his doctrine of election (read: universalism). On June 1, 1961, Barth wrote the following letter to Dr. Geoffrey W. Bromiley who was the former president of Fuller Theological Seminary. At the time, Bromiley was also the co-editor of Christianity Today and asked Barth if he would write a response to various questions that were put forth by certain men such as Van Til, Clark, etc. To be clear, I don't think that Barth ever cared that conservative evangelicals like these men disagreed with him. Afterall, Barth did hold rather revolutionary views of the doctrines of Scripture and election. Admittedly, the letter has a very frustrated tone. But in the end, agreement was never the main goal; I think Barth was more concerned about the posture and the lack of charity that he witnessed from them since most know that Barth was never shy of criticizing the work of other theologians! In the end, Barth simply wanted these men to agree, not merely in words, that the truth always transcends us all. Theology is never simply a regurgitation of and allegiance to orthodox belief, but an ever-unfolding task for the community of believers in Jesus Christ:

Dear Dr. Bromiley,

Please excuse me and please try to understand that I cannot and will not answer the questions these people put.

To do so in the time requested would in any case be impossible for me. The claims of work in my last semester as an academic teacher (preparation of lectures and seminars, doctoral dissertations, etc.) are too great. But even if I had the time and strength I would not enter into a discussion of the questions proposed. Such a discussion would have to rest on the primary presupposition that those who ask the questions have read, learned, and pondered the many things I have already said and written about these matters. They have obviously not done this, but have ignored the many hundreds of pages in the C.D. where they might at least have found out - not necessarily under the headings of history, universalism, etc. - where I really stand and do not stand. From that point they could have gone on to pose further questions. I sincerely respect the seriousness with which a man like Berkouwer studies me and then makes his criticisms. I can then answer him in detail. But I cannot respect the questions of these people from Christianity Today, for they do not focus on the reasons for my statements but on certain foolishly drawn deductions from them. Their questions are thus superficial.

The decisive point, however, is this. The second presupposition of a fruitful discussion between them and me would have to be that we are able to talk on a common plane. But these men have already had their so-called orthodoxy for a long time. They are closed to anything else, they will cling to it at all costs, and they can adopt toward me only the role of prosecuting attorneys, trying to establish whether what I represent agrees or disagrees with their orthodoxy, in which I for my part have no interest! None of their questions leaves me with the impression that they want to seek with me the truth that is greater than us all. They take the stance of those who happily possess it already and who hope to enhance their happiness by succeeding in proving to themselves and the world that I do not share this happiness. Indeed they have long since decided and publicly proclaimed that I am a heretic, possibly (van Til) the worst heretic of all time. So be it! But they should not expect me to take the trouble to give them the satisfaction of offering explanations which they simply use to confirm the judgment they have already passed on me.

Dear Dr. Bromiley, you will no doubt remember what I said in the preface to C.D. IV, 2 in the words of the eighteenth-century poem on those who eat up men. The continuation of the poem is as follows: "...for there is no true love where one man eats another." These fundamentalists want to eat me up. They have not yet come to a "better mind and attitude" as I once hoped. I can thus give them neither an angry nor a gentle answer but instead no answer at all.

With friendly greetings,
Yours,
Karl Barth

P.S. I ask you to convey what I have said in a suitable manner to the people at Christianity Today.

Photo credit: Here

The Notion of Covenant.

2011-02-25T14:40:00.010-05:00

This excerpt is rather lengthy, but fascinating:

The Reformed churches in the sixteenth century primarily avoided two extremes, which were viewed as theological dangers: Roman Catholicism and the Anabaptist "radical Reformation." We do well to describe these two alternatives in terms of their approach to the story found within the Bible. A methodological concession can be offered at this point: it is likely that proponents of both church traditions would describe their own projects in very different terms, so the following should be read as the common way in which Reformed theologians of the sixteenth century characterized their opponents.

First, the Roman Catholic system of religion maintains that the Old Covenant and New Covenant are continuous. Not only is Jesus Christ the lamb of God for both Israelites and catholic believers, but the style of piety, liturgy, and polity to be followed now is basically similar to that which was practiced then. In Reformation era debates, then, the Roman church pointed to the trappings of the Old Covenant temple worship as precedent for her own elaborate Mass. The Roman Mass was not merely pomp and circumstance devised according to high cultural standards within the late medieval period; rather, it was intended to convey the aesthetic complexity of temple and tabernacle worship in contemporary format. A belief in the continuity of God's people - Israel and then the Roman church - led to an affirmation of similar vestiges in ethos and culture. This emphasis on continuity also affected issues of polity, authority, etc. ...

Second, the Anabaptist churches presented the opposition temptation. In place of Rome's emphasis on continuity, the radical Reformation accentuated all discontinuities between Israel and the churches. These reformers pointed to Paul's contrast between letter and spirit as illustrative of this broader historical difference: "we act with great boldness, not like Moses, who put a veil over his face to keep the people of Israel from gazing at the end of the glory that was being set aside" (2 Cor. 3:12-13). THis new boldness arises from the fully redeemed composition of the church, over against the mixed multitude of ethic Israel in the Old Covenant: "their minds were hardened. Indeed, to this very day, when they hear the reading of the old covenant, that same veil is still there, since only in Christ is it set aside . . . when one turns to the LORD, the veil is removed" (2 Cor. 3:14-15). The Anabaptist churches birthed communities, in fact, for they secluded themselves from broader society in an effort to remain pure and unmixed. Whereas Israel was plagued with syncretism, idolatry, unfaithfulness, the churches were now - in Jesus Christ - capable of true devotion and steadfastness. This new self-identity of the Christian community, of course, played itself out in broader reforms, leaving behind all antique forms of church life as external, physical, inferior, and Jewish. Against these mere trappings, the Christian life was spiritual, pure, regenerate, and immediate.

The Reformed churches - along with confessional Lutheran and (at times) Anglican churches - attempted to steer a middle course between these two extremes. Thus, Reformed theology can be views as attempting to negotiate the tensions of mediation, tradition, and structure, as reformed by the ever-new disruptions brought by the proclamation of the Word of God. In other words, Reformed theology affirms continuity in discontinuity, and discontinuity in continuity."

- R. Michael Allen in Reformed Theology, 35-37

Needless to say, the notion of covenant has vast implications for theology. I began to question how profoundly the Roman Catholic doctrine of soteriology is influenced and conditioned by their particular view of the radical continuity between the New and Old testament covenants (excuse the politically incorrect term "old testament"; I do realize "Hebrew Bible" is the preferred label these days, but the author uses it so I'm trying to be consistent). I am often struck by the refusal of many to admit that whatever one confesses in one particular doctrine has an impact upon one's entire theological confession. Everything is interconnected in a rather organic manner and the attempts to deny such reality is futile.

But the portion of this quote that really struck me was the correlation between the Anabaptist understanding of covenant and their views of culture. Most evangelical Churches today are not confessional (Reformed, Lutheran, Anglican, etc.) and therefore have more similarities to Anabaptist tendencies. In these types of Churches, I continually hear language of "us vs. them" in relation to the Church and broader society remaining faithful to the Anabaptist tendency to strive for "pure and unmixed" communities. But Churches that even have some influence from Reformed confessions (even if it is merely the beloved Augustinian doctrine of grace that has swept the neo-reformed movement) show a greater willingness to engage with broader culture (even if it lacks the genuine and profound Christ transforming culture paradigm that is championed by Reformed theology). And let's not even begin to discuss the effect of one's view concerning covenant upon one's view of Israel. The implications are so vast, it is astounding.

So perhaps John Hesselink was not exaggerating when he once boldly declared, "Reformed theology is covenant theology." Might one be able to say that "_____ theology is their particular view of covenant"?

Photo credit: here

The King of Limbs.

2011-02-18T09:24:00.005-05:00

The new Radiohead album dropped today! Happy Friday!

Freedom

2011-02-10T12:28:00.005-05:00

O Holy Father, thou hast freely given thy Son,

O Divine Son, thou hast freely paid my debt,

O Eternal Spirit, thou hast freely bid me come,

O Triune God, thou does freely grace me with salvation.

Prayers and tears could not suffice to pardon for my sins,

nor anything less than atoning blood,

but my believing is my receiving,

for a thankful acceptance is no paying of the debt.

What didst thou see in me?

that I a poor, diseased, despised sinner

should be clothed in thy bright glory?

that a creeping worm

should be advanced to this high state?

that one lately groaning, weeping, dying,

should be as full of joy as my heart can hold?

that a being of dust and darkness

should be taken in Mordecai from captivity,

and set next to the king?

should be lifted like Daniel from the den

and be made ruler of princes and provinces?

Who can fathom immeasurable love?

As far as the rational soul exceeds the senses,

so does the spirit exceed the rational in its knowledge of thee.

Thou hast given me understanding to compass the earth,

measure the sun, moon, stars, universe,

but above all to know thee, the only true God.

I marvel that finite can know the Infinite,

here a little, afterwards in full-orbed truth;

Now I know but a small portion of what I shall know,

here in part, there in perfection,

here a glimpse, there a glory.

To enjoy thee is life eternal,

and to enjoy is to know.

Keep me in the freedom of experiencing thy salvation continually.

- "Freedom" from The Valley of Vision

Patristics Conference

2011-02-07T23:02:00.007-05:00

I am very excited about attending this conference at Princeton this upcoming weekend. It is a two-day event and speakers include Fr. John McGuckin and the wonderful Fr. George Dragas. I won't be able to attend the Friday evening session but I look forward to the all-day event on Saturday. I just returned to Boston from Princeton today and I am delighted to return. The lovely town has always been one of my favorites.

N.T. Wright and Christian Tradition

2011-02-01T23:37:00.015-05:00

Whenever I have the urge to write a blog post, I ask myself a variety of questions: will I regret writing this and publicizing this on the internet when I wake up tomorrow? Will this benefit anyone? Will this end up being a theological slander of sorts? Will this be to seek understanding through reflection and struggle?

I ask these questions even more so in relation to my reading of N.T. Wright's scholarship. Admittedly, I haven't always had the best attitude when it comes to Wright. Some might say that it is due to the fact that I am comfortable in my theology and feel rather disturbed by his biblically accurate conclusions. Others might say that I value systematic theology above biblical theology and therefore anything that Wright says will expose my idolatrous systems over and against the text of Scripture. Still, others might even say that I haven't read enough of Wright to offer a fair assessment (fair enough), or that Wright is working within categories that I don't fully grasp (probable?).

Despite all the above, I have been assigned to read Jesus and the Victory of God (JVG) for my Life of Jesus course. I haven't finished it yet, but I've been struggling since completing the first 150 pages or so. Before I get into my issues with Wright, I first would like to remember similar angst I experienced when reading Karl Barth's doctrine of election within the Church Dogmatics for the first time last spring. It all started in the beginning of the semester when I was assigned to give a presentation on Barth's Anselm commentary (AQI). The first 78 pages or so were really difficult to grasp, partly because I was a brand new reader of such genius (not to mention the fact that almost 1/4 of the text is in Latin). Despite everything I learned, the one aspect of Barth's theology that really struck me was the relationship between the Credo of the Christian Church and the credo of the individual. As a former Eastern Orthodox catechumen, I was simultaneously overjoyed and relieved to find a Protestant scholar who so deeply valued and respected the great Christian tradition. I didn't mistake this for blind consent, but rather proper humility.

When I began to read Barth's doctrine of election in II.2 of the CD (I think this is right, I'm too tired to go double check), I was immediately alarmed and puzzled at the fact that he departed so radically from the reformed tradition. He never struck me as being hasty or irresponsible, but I began to wonder if his esteem for the Christian tradition offered in AQI was mere lip service. So for my final research paper, I was determined to find out why Barth criticized the theologian (Calvin) so sharply whose picture hung above his doorpost in Barth's study for most of Barth's life. I started reading paragraph 32 and I was almost immediately struck by how much time, effort, and toil Barth put into his engagement with the tradition before and after deciding to criticize it. You can almost sense at one point his existential crisis when he all but says "why Calvin, why? It was right there and you were so close, why didn't you make Christ the Subject of election!?"

At that point, no matter my agreement or disagreement with Barth's conclusions, I believed he earned some type of "street cred." He earned the right to radically depart from the tradition since he first listened to it so closely.

Enter N.T. Wright. Given all of the sentiments expressed above, you must understand my instant aversion to his work when I read titles like What Saint Paul REALLY Said (emphasis added - to be fair, I am told this title was not chosen by Wright but by the publishing company). My hesitations have not changed since reading JVG. In the first chapter entitled "Jesus Then and Now", Wright discusses the historical quest for the historical Jesus beginning with the reformers. He sets the stage for his disagreement with almost every approach before him. Wright remarks that the reformers suffered from "the failure to ask about the theological significance of the ministry of Jesus, and the failure to treat the gospels with full seriousness as they stand, that is, as stories" (15). Even more, "the reformers, then, focused not on the Jesus of history for his own sake, but on the results, the 'benefits', of his work ... [and the reformers had an] uncertainty about the value of the history of Jesus' life in relation to the theological and hermeneutical task" (15, 16). Wright does admit that JVG "is not the place to explore why the reformers made the moves they did, nor [does Wright have] the competence for such an enquiry" (15). Note that there is not one citation from one reformer, nor any engagement with any primary text of even one theologian prior to Reimarus except for one citation to Melanchthon.

Jumping forward a bit, Wright reinterprets the parable of the Prodigal Son away from traditional readings. He argues that the parable is not for personal application, but rather tells "the story of Israel, in particular of exile and restoration" (126). In fact, this parable most clearly encompasses the narrative of God's relationship with His people; "The exodus itself is the ultimate backdrop: Israel goes off into a pagan country, becomes a slave, and then is brought back to her own land. But exile and restoration is the main theme. This is what the parable is about" (126). Since I am a reader of Barth, I immediately expected an excursus which discussed the history of exegetical interpretation concerning this particular parable not to mention citations from multiple western fathers sprinkled with sentences in Latin and some Greek words. But there is no such treasure to be found. Wright fails to offer any engagement with the tradition for why he is departing from it so dramatically.

Before anyone charges me with defying the principles of sola scriptura in criticizing Wright's allegiance to the text of Scripture, I'd like to qualify my issues. First, the reformers never intended for sola scriptura to mean a lack of engagement with the tradition of the Christian confession. I don't have the time nor the energy to get into that detailed discussion. Second, I am not necessarily upset with Wright's ultimate disagreement and criticism of the tradition. Rather, it would seem that he dismisses the tradition without first giving it a fair hearing. On The Sword and the Ploughshare blog, I read his post this evening concerning McCormack's Croall lectures. The following remark found therein really struck me: "it just may be, as some have told me, that the orthodox tradition, if only we listened to it properly, has all the resources necessary to solve these problems." This quote captures my sentiment perfectly. The individual and/or the community of believers should never first assume that the Christian tradition is correct when "doing theology." One can hope that "it may just be" that the conclusions are biblically faithful. Yet, as Barth continually preached, we all must start at the beginning when doing the theological (or exegetical or historical) task. However, the individual and/or the community of believers should never first assume that the Christian tradition is wrong when "doing theology." We can only find this out after we have "listened to it properly."

I admire Wright's commitment to biblical scholarship. I have learned an incredible amount from reading his work. But I wish he would spend more time grappling with the Christian tradition. And I wish he would offer more critical engagement with the Christian tradition within his books. I don't think this is too much to ask from a scholar who believes that he is the first within the entire history of Christianity to truly grapple with the historicity of Jesus Christ.

2011 Films

2011-01-27T15:09:00.025-05:00

Part 2 of my review of Trinitarian Theology after Barth will have to wait. Some things are much more important, like good film!

Most of my friends know that I have an affinity for foreign film. Of course, when it's bad, it's pitiful. But when it's good, it's phenomenal. I recently saw Neils Arden Oplev's film adaptation of Larsson's Millenium Trilogy. The films are entitled The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (GDT), The Girl Who Played with Fire (GPF), and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest (GKHN). I watched all three films over the span of twenty-four hours. They were enthralling. The first installment, GDT, might quite possibly be the most disturbing film I've ever seen. I could barely sleep so I figured I should just watch the second part, GPF, since there is little else to do at 3 AM. After that was finished, I began to panic since GKHN has not yet been released on Netflix instant streaming. By the providence of God, a local indie theatre was playing GKHN for that weekend only! It was the first time I have ever gone to the theatre alone, but enduring such a social faux pas was entirely worth it. While GKHN was a bit of a letdown considering the fact that relationship between leads Rapace and Nyqvist all but vanished, Rapace's acting still left me mesmerized. Her performance was one of the best I have ever seen. She embodied her character so well, it was borderline disturbing. I am constantly amazed at how much foreign film delivers compared to the average American cinematic experience (Sophie Scholl, The Sea Inside, Tell No One, Summer Hours, Paradise Now, Children of Heaven, The Class, Once, The Counterfeiters, Cache, Maria Full of Grace, Water, La Vie en rose, to name a few).

Thankfully, 2011 offers a host of foreign films that seem promising. I am only going to list three because it is so much work to put up these nice little photos! These are my top three choices:

1. Des Hommes Et Des Dieux (Of Gods and Men) - Thanks to my friend, John C. for pointing me toward this gem. This 2010 French drama won the Grand Pix from the Cannes Film Festival. One can only pray that it will be released in cities beyond LA and NYC after Feburary. The cinematography in the trailer is breathtaking and I am excited to view a film that reveals a neglected issue that will become much more pressing for future inter-religious dialogue. I also wonder if the film will deal with issues of force and violence. While some arguments for pacifism are compelling, they are often left wanting especially in light of realities such as this.

2. Leaving - Okay, I should offer a few disclaimers. I am fully aware that this film offers nothing but a well-worn cliche that is morally bankrupt. However, Kristin Scott Thomas is one of the best actresses of our time (yes, I'm thinking English Patient). I make it a point to see every film she makes, especially her French films. I will most likely be angry and frustrated after viewing her in a role that condones the embodiment of selfishness (nothing short of a classic Kate Winslet role). But something about Ms. Thomas still makes you want to go along for the ride.

3. Biutiful - Starring Javier Bardem, this Spanish film directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu portrays a struggling single father. While it has received mixed views (despite also being featured as an official selection at Cannes), Bardem won my affection after viewing The Sea Inside. His role landed him the Best Actor nomination at this years Academy Awards, and I can't wait to see if the movie delivers.

Trinitarian Theology After Barth (Part 1)

2011-01-24T23:24:00.008-05:00

Every so often, I browse the new books section at the GCTS library. I'm usually disappointed. But this past Saturday, I was pleasantly surprised; I stumbled across a recent collection of essays entitled Trinitarian Theology after Barth, eds. Myk Habets and Phillip Tolliday. Contributors include Paul Molnar, Bruce McCormack, Ben Myers, and John Webster. Since I'm a fan of Molnar's work and he writes the opening chapter, I decided to begin with his essay entitled "The Role of the Holy Spirit in Knowing the Triune God." After I checked out this book and made my way out of the library, I quickly read this opening paragraph:

If contemporary theologians were to make explicit the role of the Holy Spirit in enabling our knowledge of the triune God, then there could be wide agreement that natural theology of whatever stripe is not only unhelpful, but is directly excluded from any serious understanding of theological epistemology.

I immediately let out a huge sigh of relief. Finally, after almost years of questioning and confusion, I found someone who agrees with my hesitations about the classic formulation of natural theology. I have heard what seems like countless scholars, peers, and professors argue for the validity and justification of natural theology in conjunction with the indispensible role of the Holy Spirit. However, unless these same westerners want to deny the filioque clause, I have never understood how the work of the Holy Spirit does not automatically negate the possibility of natural theology. Does not the entire word natural assume that human beings have some innate capacity - by whatever degree - to comprehend the existence of God? It has always seemed to me that once talk of the Holy Spirit enters the equation, the word natural should necessarily vanish. For this reason, I have always believed that those who say they believe one can have knowledge of God apart from special revelation (the Holy Scriptures, knowledge of Christ, etc.) either 1) only pay lip service to the role of the Holy Spirit or 2) deny the filioque clause thus believing that individuals can come to know the Father apart from the Son.

Getting back to Molnar's essay, he goes on to point out that some scholars, such as John Courtney Murray, argue that "we can know that God is but we cannot know what he is" (5). There are no shortage of Christian philosophers who believe and passionately argue that one can believe God's exists without knowing who this God is. Such philosophers usually have an abundance of literature that label God with names like "the first Cause" or the "Ultimate Being" thus stripping Him of all the names God has given of Himself through His self-revelation. Molnar asserts that to separate the question of God's existence from His identity "is the first mistake that follows from failing to realize that our knowledge of who or what God is comes positively to meet us in Christ and thus through his Spirit as an act of God" (7). In effect, the question becomes what role the Son possesses in relation to the Father if the Son is ultimately unnecessary for knowledge of God. Furthermore, such an affirmation of knowledge of God apart from the encounter with Jesus Christ inevitably separates the work of the Spirit from the Son. To me, this paves the way for a type of inclusivity that I fear is unintended by most who advocate such a way forward.

Unfortunately, I started writing this entry much later than I planned. I'll have to continue this at a later date.

God's promise.

2011-01-23T21:42:00.004-05:00

I was deeply encouraged by this:

"If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died - more than that, who was raised - who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,

'For your sake we are being killed all the day long;
we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.'

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height not depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be ale to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

- Romans 8:32-39 [emphasis added]

The loss of the particular.

2011-01-22T09:41:00.017-05:00

A friend of mine on twitter commended Kari Jobe for her worship ministry. As a student at an evangelical seminary, I've heard Jobe's name mentioned before. I've even bought one of her songs (maybe two?) and think she has a wonderful voice. I know a lot of people who have benefited from her music and her talent for singing, not to mention her seeming commitment to Christ.

I did some research on Ms. Jobe this morning and ended up at her facebook page where the above music video was posted. When you play it the first time, you are very touched by the words. Who wouldn't want to worship a God who intimately cares for His creatures? And who wouldn't want to worship a God who still cares for His creatures even when they do everything against His wishes?

When the song was almost finished, I had the same impression as I did when I was exposed to the charismatic movement (IHOP - International House of Prayer). There are an incredible amount of songs about how the Lord makes us feel. But I've noticed two profound weaknesses with songs like these.

First, they almost always use the word "You." As a monotheist, I have no problem with the unity of the Trinity. In fact, I think Gregory of Nyssa would wholeheartedly embrace this constant affirmation of God's unity even in distinction. But God still has chosen to reveal Himself as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He truly is the Triune God and we should understand that the works of God are Triune. At the risk of sounding like I'm asking for too much differentiation, I wish there would be more specific speech about God's triunity that He has provided for us. As Dr. Corduan used to tell us repeatedly, there is only one "what" yet three "who"s.

Second, there are few songs that speak about how the Triune God makes these "feelings" possible. Few songs reference God the Father, maker of heaven and earth, God the Son who was sent by the Father for us and for our salvation, and God the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life. It seems like these general statements about the feelings one gets from this God offer nothing of particularity. What differentiates the feelings expressed in these songs from those of any other religion? The external works of the Triune God not only reveal the identity of the God the Church worships but also bring confidence that we are faithfully witnessing to His revelation. At the risk of sounding cynical, I wanted to ask Ms. Jobe, "how do you know that God is for you?" "How do you know that He will never abandon you?"

My main concern is not apologetic. My main concern is for the Church and its sometimes lack of thoughtful speech and witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ when we write music. I hope future leaders might recognize some of these weaknesses and how it might negatively effect our perception of the Triune God.

The List.

2011-01-10T13:06:00.017-05:00

A few items:

- I am weary of scholars or professors who are dogmatic in affirming Mosaic authorship. I am equally weary when other scholars or professors dogmatically deny Mosaic authorship. There simply is not enough evidence either internally or externally to argue either way with such confidence. I wish most would ultimately affirm agnosticism even if they find one option more theologically appealing or convincing.

- I've decided to enter into an in-depth study of the book of Romans. Despite the fact that I never finished Koine Greek during my time at GCTS, I just picked up another commentary (Cranfield) in addition to Dunn and Moo. I already fundamentally disagree with one of Dunn's two main arguments which will guide his entire exegetical project. As I've said before, I feel woefully inadequate to say that I disagree with such a seminal biblical scholar such as Dunn. However, perhaps I'll get the courage to post my thoughts on this matter in the coming weeks.

- I picked up Eugene Robinson's Disintegration: The Splintering of Black America. While I have largely been exposed and confined to communities where caucasians are the majority, my parents live in a town that is almost 3/4 black (I never know what the politically correct term is when it comes to racial groups, so forgive me if that term isn't acceptable to anyone reading this post). I've long been influenced and fascinated with black culture and I am thrilled to read this book that promises to probe more deeply into the black identity (or the "splintering" therein).

- The month of January has been and is going to be very busy! I have to finish my two applications to two masters programs, take two classes by Feb. 1st (and spring classes start before this date), finish a book review, continue with my part-time jobs (yes, plural), and not live in my house for the next two weeks as I do all of this. I'm housesitting for a while and it is more difficult than I imagined to transition from my own house into another. However, I really enjoy the time away, it is like vacation.

- I'm debating about whether or not I want to take Negative Theology (NT) at HDS in the spring. Even though I would really enjoy the class, I can't say that I miss the commute to HDS. Moreover, I am taking another Barth seminar this semester at GCTS and we are covering I.2 of the CD. In the Barth seminar at HDS, we didn't touch one page of volume 1. Some argue that the CD can be read backwards, but I don't find this view convincing. As such, I have found that my lack of exposure to volume 1 has proven to be a disadvantage. Plus, Busch's biography is assigned and who doesn't want to keep reading such an amazing work? In short, I don't know if I have time to keep up with the Western fathers reading, the Barth seminar, and one other class if I take the NT class. Decisions Decisions.

New Years Resolution #1 = Completed!

2011-01-01T16:34:00.001-05:00

For over four months, my bookshelves have been in shambles. Even my Barth bookshelf (top left) began to look very disorganized. Therefore, I decided to start this year off right and fulfill one of my resolutions before the stroke of midnight: organize my bookshelves. It doesn't look as neat and slick as I'd like, but that is due to the fact that I don't have enough bookcases nor the space to get another one in my apartment. Anyhow, I had to share my success because I am so happy about the accomplishment displayed above (!)

Also, please observe the proud place that Barth's Church Dogmatics holds on the top shelf of the first bookcase (though I think he'd be proud of the fact that all of Calvin's commentaries are even above him in red at the very top of the right bookshelf). I was unable to fit KB's Epistle to the Romans on the same shelf so it lays sideways on the top of the CD. I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the No preceding the Yes, even in my bookshelf. Then I realized that even such a thought officially makes me incredibly sad.

P.S. The carpet came with the apartment. I did not purchase it nor can it be removed. I mourn this fact daily (but how can one complain when they have the best landlords ever?).

Publishing.

2010-12-31T14:01:00.007-05:00

When I was in the Barth seminar at HDS, my professor made a comment during one of the beginning lectures that he hasn't published much about Barth to date. He expressed that this lack of publishing was intentional since it takes a long time to fully appreciate and understand the corpse of Barth's work.

Another professor at GCTS told me that some people believe a scholar shouldn't publish until they are in their 50's. I couldn't help but think those people are onto something.

I often wonder how anyone could want to read academic work that is published by young scholars (or budding scholars). If I had a choice, I would wait for at least twenty years before I started publishing because I often find that I make assumptions and decisions too quickly. My views are formulated prematurely. However, most teaching jobs require publishing.

I simply pray that if I get the chance to publish anything I write, the grace of God will be near. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.

Creaturely Freedom.

2010-12-29T12:25:00.004-05:00

"The clue it seems to me basically is getting our heads out of the idea that God's freedom and our freedom are antithetical. There are not inversely proportional, they are directly proportional. Therefore, the more God acts upon us, the more we ourselves are able to act. God's acting upon us is not the suppression of our agency but its the creation of our agency.

The difficulty we have is that most of the time when we think about freedom, we think in terms of spontaneity. So my freedom has to be the absence of external causality upon my acts. But the Christian tradition just doesn't think like that or at least it didn't until the later 17th century. For Augustine, God causes all that is and that is why we are free. It is not in opposition to our freedom, it is precisely the cause of our freedom. What we find difficult to get our minds around is the idea that there could be a freedom which is caused or given to us because we think that the only kind of freedom that we can have is either pure spontaneity or what is sometimes called contra causal freedom. In other words, our freedom to act against a cause acting upon us. And that picture is not, it seems to me, part of the way that Scripture and the Christian tradition has thought. It is that which is often at play in debates about open-theism or whatever - the fear that if we talk about God's sovereignty we must therefore be talking about something which is a subtraction from creaturely freedom to which the answer is no it isn't."

- John Webster, Kantzer Lecture #3, Question and Answer session

Impossible for God?

2010-12-22T00:08:00.008-05:00

After completing the Early Christian Thought: the Greek tradition class at HDS and theological hermeneutics at GCTS this semester, my mind is constantly pondering Karl Barth's christology. I figured that George Hunsinger's chapter concerning Barth's christology in Disruptive Grace would be the best place to start (return?) as I have found the clarity and forthrightness of this book to be rather comforting in the past few years (though I can only find my copy of the Cambridge Companion to KB at the moment). The basic idea of the following quote struck me as quite profound and seems to capture my hesitations with the entire presupposition of negative theology as well as many modern theologians:

"The Novum of the incarnation is so unique that (contrary to someone like Kierkegaard) it cannot even be explained as an absurdity, for that would imply not only that the limits of our minds can circumscribe God's rationality, but also that we are in a position to know in advance what is possible or impossible for God."

- G. Hunsinger, "Karl Barth's Christology: Its Basic Chalcedonian Character" in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, 131.

Photo credit: My beloved friend, Jillian Snyder

What Child Is This?

2010-12-05T13:17:00.004-05:00

I'll never forget my first semester of Gordon-Conwell. I took a systematic theology I class for fun and was forced to switch into a particular section because of my schedule. I gave up a class at HDS because the reading list for this systematic class looked too good to pass up. I remember sitting in this class all semester and most of the time, I just listened. I didn't take my laptop into class, and I only wrote in the margins of the handouts. It was quite the life-changing semester for me. And then Christmas immediately followed the end of this class. When I heard this classic Christmas hymn entitled "What Child is This?" a few days after the class final, I remember the tears that seemed as though they'd never stop. For the first time, it was as though I recognized, in some small part, the depths of the message of Christ's birth. This is truly God who comes to save His people by uniting Himself to flesh! And every time I hear this song, it brings me back to the truth of the theologia crucis. Here God is revealed, yet so hidden.

What child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary’s lap is sleeping,
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary!
Why lies He in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce him through,
The Cross be borne for me, for you;
Hail, hail the Word Made Flesh,
The babe, the son of Mary!
So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh;
Come, peasant, king, to own Him!
The King of Kings salvation brings;
Let loving hearts enthrone Him!
Raise, raise the song on high!
The virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy! joy! for Christ is born,
The babe, the son of Mary!

Theosis.

2010-12-02T21:35:00.004-05:00

I must confess that ever since taking the Calvin seminar my second year at Gordon-Conwell, I remain unconvinced that the Eastern Orthodox doctrine of theosis and the ontological change within the human subject championed therein does not compromise the distinction between Creator and creature (CCD hereafter since I'm tired).

My professor, during discussion today, asked me why I would find it hard to believe that deification would not compromise CCD if I accept the Incarnation. If I believe that the CCD was not compromised by the eternal Son uniting Himself with human flesh, why would it be a problem for me to accept that God would be able to make deification possible without compromise as well?

Whether or not the Eastern tradition believes that the human subject participates in the essence or the energies of God (my professor said some support the belief that the human subject participates in the essence - gasp!), I keep coming back to Barth's famous thesis (?) in the second preface to the Epistle to the Romans:

My reply is that, if I have a system, it is limited to a recognition of what Kierkegaard called the 'infinite qualitative distinction' between time and eternity,and to my regarding this as possessing negative as well as positive significance: 'God is in heaven, and thou art on earth.' The relation between such a God and such a man, and the relation between such a man and such a God, is for me the theme of the Bible and the essence of philosophy (pg. 10)

Like I said, I'm really tired. It probably wasn't wise to post these thoughts since I'm simply putting forth statements and opinions without defending them. However, I felt the need to record my continued dissatisfaction with the doctrine of theosis. And for the record, I can't help but think that many in the Protestant church are leaving their churches for the East because they long so desperately for a robust account of sanctification. This makes me incredibly disappointed, because Calvin is clear that even though justification is never contingent upon sanctification, the two are never separated in the life of the Christian.

And so it begins ...

2010-11-25T01:06:00.010-05:00

Tonight, as I made my way through Blockbuster, I was dismayed by the lack of quality movies to rent. And since I've seen almost every movie that has come out in the past ten years, I decided it was a bit hopeless to expect anything promising to come from the new release section.

Well, I made my way to the other sections and I figured it would do me best to start with drama. There are so many movies I haven't seen. There are more movies than I'd like to admit that I haven't seen which are basic and necessary for any serious film viewer. So, after facing the truth, I decided it was time to rent the Godfather Part I. About four years ago, I tried to watch the first installment. However, it was really late at night, I was home alone, and by the time that I got to the part where the dead horse's head ends up in the bed, I chickened out. But not this time. I made my Dad watch it with me and I quickly became enthralled. I no longer question the brilliance, on any level, of Al Pacino. His role as Michael Corleone was impeccable. I can not wait to watch the second part; I read that it received more acclaim that the first. I am also hoping that Diane Keaton surfaces more and that her character develops. I have a feeling that her relationship with Michael will truly shape his role as the head of the family business, but I could be wrong.

After realizing that I needed to buckle down and finish the Godfather trilogy, I decided to make a list of other movies I must see over the next year. The following is the modest list I compiled. Suggestions are more than welcomed:

Scarface
Lawrence of Arabia
Star Wars (I know, please don't condemn me.)
The Graduate
Taxi Driver
Out of Africa
Unforgiven
The Mission
Raging Bull
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
Annie Hall
The Deer Hunter
Pulp Fiction (Again, I know. Apply the personal testimony of the first viewing of the Godfather part I above to this film as well.)

Apophatic Theology.

2010-11-18T21:43:00.021-05:00

In my HDS class, we've been discussing the eastern fathers and their understanding of apophatic theology. The discussion began in some depth when the class started reading Psuedo Dionysius. During the particular lecture on Psuedo Dionysius' writings, particularly "The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy", I was struck by the almost unquestioned assumption that God does not and can not become an object of human knowledge. Since God is totally transcendent for Dionysius, one must fall back upon this type of ecstatic experience via contemplation. It is a rather complicated cycle that I feel wholly inadequate to describe. Sidenote: this entire discussion made me realize the importance of the filioque clause even though I think Spain could have been a bit more tactful about it!

Anyhow, I raised my hand and asked why this assumption is made and why we are just accepting it. To increase my concern, my professor said that the encounter one has with God is void of all epistemological content. Back up a bit, and in the beginning of the chapter we were assigned to read for Dionysius, he states that Scripture is divine revelation. Through Scripture, God has revealed Himself to humanity. I take no issue with this belief. However, I began to wonder how Dionysius can then go on to have any confidence that the God he encounters via contemplation is the God revealed in Scripture if 1) the encounter is void of all epistemological content - i.e. no propositional knowledge 2) God is not an object of knowledge. It seemed unclear to me how Dionysius could be confident that the God revealed in Scripture, the Christian God, would be the same God that is "unknowable." How would Dionysius be able to say that this God he is encountering is not Buddha, Krishna, or any other god for that matter? To me, the rejection of the idea that God can be and does become an object of knowledge and that encounters with him are void of all epistemological content lead one into complete skepticism. There is no confidence to be had.

My question was brought up again during class today. Most everyone agreed that God can't be an object of knowledge. However, I became rather concerned. Isn't it by faith that the Church confesses that God has become an object of knowledge in Jesus Christ? Isn't Jesus Christ homoousia with the Father and hasn't Christ stepped into time and space, uniting himself with human flesh? Post council of Nicaea, doesn't the Church believe that Jesus Christ is the objective reality of revelation? In a way, the idea that God becomes an object of knowledge is a miracle because the Incarnation does not compromise His transcendence at all. I admire the eastern commitment to God's transcendence - I think it is totally correct. However, precisely because God is transcendent, He can then become the God for us, the God revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ via the Incarnation. It seems that God does not want us to tell Him what He is able to do - He makes it possible to become an object of knowledge in Christ.

I realized, as I was explaining all of this to my dear Mom on the phone this afternoon, that the understanding of God making Himself an object of knowledge in Christ is truly radical to believe! While Barth certainly wasn't the first theologian to confess this, he did deny the modern Christian belief that God is epistemologically unknowable since for Barth, God has made Himself an object of knowledge in Christ. Furthermore, for Barth, God remains in control of the knowing event. In this way, God's sovereignty is not compromised. For this reason, I'm excited to read Church Dogmatics I.2 next semester. We didn't touch volume one in the Barth seminar at HDS. This might be why I'm having great difficulty understanding this conversation to a certain extent.

More personally, I also came to understand in an entirely new way how this sort of confession has claims upon the individual's life. The evangelical theological orientation in this way is truly radical! To confess that Jesus Christ is the eternal begotten Son of God, homoousia with the Father, that He lived, died on a cross, and rose again from the dead is not a simple nodding of the head. To believe all of this and to understand that God has become an object of knowledge in Jesus Christ necessarily means that I am called to be an obedient witness to this Gospel message. That is quite a humbling reality, to say the least.

Photo credit: David Richards

At Last!

2010-11-16T18:51:00.006-05:00

I don't have time to be writing this, but I had to commemorate the day when the younger generation will now have no excuse to not own a Beatles album. The Beatles officially made it to iTunes! This is truly cause for rejoicing! If you don't own an album, please know that you are woefully impoverished. Let the light shine upon you by simply paying $12.99 for one of their masterpieces such as "Abbey Road" or a mere $19.99 for "The White Album" ... your life will never be the same.

OTR.

2010-11-14T22:37:00.007-05:00

For whatever it's worth, sometimes Over the Rhine feels like they are the only musicians currently making music who understand what sanctification means -- or the pain in what seems like the lack thereof.