1. I cannot believe I have waded through the "To Do Before I Leave" list, but it's pretty much covered. Convocation Eucharist planned and ready to worship tonight, including ordo (our fancy Seabury word for the order of service) printed and ready. Three weeks worth of daily worship ordos, turned in for copying and distribution. Systematics paper (see below) adequately written, if not brilliant. Plunge group travels coordinated. Dorm room left clean enough that Hope (my beloved new roommate) will not spend the next two weeks cursing me.
2. We registered on Monday for winter quarter, and I'm a happy girl. My advisor signed off on something of an altered schedule-- postponing the regularly scheduled Christian Life and Thought III (last course in the Church History sequence) so that I could take both Greek and Practice of Preaching. Because of the way some courses are only offered in alternate years, it was the only way I could get the full 3-quarter preaching sequence at Seabury, and also take the biblical languages.
So here's what my schedule looks like: AKMA's New Testament II; Ethics II with Trevor; Greek I; and Practice in Preaching. Check this out: Tripp, Micah, Susie and I will be in the same preaching class. This is going to be awesome-- and we should start praying for our instructor now.
3. Speaking of Susie, she got her hair cut this week-- and I do mean cut. About a foot of brown protein won't be making the trip to Hawaii. It's now chin length, and cheerful and bouncy-- just like the woman wearing it. Very nice.
4. Finally, I have a new name on my blogroll. You folks who have been resident longer in the blogiverse may well be accustomed to meeting new people through your blogs; I still find it a sparkly adventure. So, when Don showed up in my comments this week, I was tickled at the opportunity to meet a new friend. And then tickled turned to astounded when, a few days later, he added me to his blogroll-- the first time that's happened with someone who hadn't already learned to put up with me in person, or at least been introduced by someone who had. I'd question his taste, except he already has AKMA near the top of his Anglican list. So, take a minute to check out this fellow Hoosier, avid gardener, and new blog buddy.
So this afternoon, I'm headed home. We're carving pumpkins tonight, and I can't miss that. Then packing, and tomorrow I'll be winging my way South. Don't know how much access I'll have to this blog; but if I have it, you'll get it. In the meantime, please keep in your prayers all of us Plungers-- and the families who'll be staying home while we wander.
Okay, here it is-- the paper that's the first part of the "theological investigation" that we are doing in our systematics class. I'll put the footnotes in later.
I'm not completely happy with it. There's more I could put in, if it weren't for the specified page limit-- and probably stuff I should take out. But it's due today, so this is it.
If you have comments, criticisms or suggestions, I'd be grateful to hear them-- that would help me tweak this part, when I add the "sign of the times" section that will come later in the term.
The Inspired Word
One of the actions required of an ordinand in the Episcopal Church is the signing of a document testifying, in part, that he/she “believe[s] the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God, and to contain all things necessary to salvation...” However, there are many ways those words can be understood. The extremes range from right-wing fundamentalist biblicism ("Every word of the Bible must be accepted as literally factual"), to left-wing liberal revisionism ("the Bible is full of unenlightened, patriarchal attitudes that should be discarded in the modern era"). Further, this understanding has a direct bearing on the Christian approach to American culture, especially as seen in the "family values" movement currently so popular in what is essentially a postmodern, often post-Christian society. So, what do we mean that scripture is “inspired by God?” I suggest a view which holds that the biblical text is neither handed down as inerrant, nor solely contextual and a dispensable accessory. Instead, it most wholly fulfills its purpose when the entire canon is considered in a more nuanced, balanced approach; and when guidance is sought though studied consideration of the preponderance of scriptural teaching.
Since the time of the early church, most Christians, and most Christian communities, have relied upon writings “inspired by God” as a basis for faith. However, agreeing upon which writings meet this criteria has been a long and arduous process. For much of the history of the church, as much discussion arose over the issue of canonization than interpretation; debate over what to read--what was, in fact, Holy Scripture-- was often at least as heated as any disagreement over how to read it.
Canonization of the Hebrew Bible is a process that scholars believe took place between 200 BCE and 200 CE. The earliest evidence of efforts to propose a definitive Christian canon appear in Marcion’s writings, around 150 CE. His proposal-- that none of the Old Testament, and only the Gospel of Luke and certain of Paul’s letters (suitably edited) were acceptable-- and the theology upon which he made his choices were roundly rejected as heretical. In doing so, however, the church was forced to consider which texts were scriptural and “necessary.” The main body of the New Testament canon was eventually finalized at the Council of Carthage in 397 CE. However, debate about which Old Testament scriptures to include continued for several hundred years; and there are still differences today in the lists of canonical texts accepted in Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant traditions.
Yet even while the process of canonical development continued, the labor of scriptural exegesis also went on. There have been of course, many differences of opinion over interpretations that have developed in the life of the church; and debates have raged in separating heresy from orthodox understanding. However, the nature and methods of interpretation (primarily a literal-allegorical method) appear to have remained largely the same for more than half of Christian history.
It was not until the 16th Century that the Reformation substantively altered the principles of biblical criticism. Although certainly unintended by the reformers, Mark Noll describes the shift in reasoning thus:
"If there was some kind of innate human right to pose the individual’s understanding of Scripture over against the magisterium of the Catholic Church, might there not also be an innate right to pose the individual’s conception of Scripture over against the traditional Christian view of its entire truthfulness?"
From this point, the shifts in cultural orientation resulting from and through the Enlightenment, and the development of modern science and education, continued the assault on traditional understanding and methodology. By the end of the 1800’s, the theology of biblical hermeneutics had begun its evolution into a spectrum of thought and practice that continues to expand today.
That contemporary spectrum is buttressed on the far right by the fundamentalist notion of literal, biblicist inerrancy. This viewpoint is best expressed by the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy, a document produced at a summit conference of nearly 300 evangelical scholars. As part of its summary, it states:
"Being wholly and verbally God-given, Scripture is without error or fault in all its teaching, no less in what it states about God's acts in creation, about the events of world history, and about its own literary origins under God, than in its witness to God's saving grace in individual lives."
At the other end of the continuum resides those with a definite revisionist view. This approach, typified by feminist theologian Mary Cary, or some of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza’s writings, suggests that much of what is currently contained in the canon is irredeemably androcentric and advances the cause of patriarchal control, rather than liberating redemption. The answer, then, is to excise from the Bible those texts that are read as oppressive, or to selectively deny revelatory status to them.
However, there is a vast middle ground between these two poles; and there, I suggest, lies a preferred interpretive path upon which to walk. We can testify to the Bible as sacred text inspired by God, without needing to hold to a belief in a flawless, dictated transcript. We can own the canonical scriptures collectively as wholly worthy of our considered attention and study, without picking and choosing the portions we prefer, and thereby missing lessons and learnings that might we might not have if we are not forced to struggle through the text.
I believe this is appropriate for several reasons. First, insisting upon the literal inerrancy of scripture does a disservice to God and the Gospel message by encouraging idolization of the text, rather than the worship and discipleship of the gracious God portrayed therein. The mainstream of theological thought has never clung to the edge of literal inerrancy as fiercely as some biblicists aver. Indeed, from the time of the earliest church writers, consideration has been given to the place of context, allegory, and theme in the effort to interpret the scriptural message. Irenaeus made use of a “rule of truth,” intended to give to the Bible a proper interpretive context. Augustine was concerned with modes and levels of meaning within scripture. Even Martin Luther, the father of sola scriptura, continually sought for the spiritual meaning within the literal sense of the text.
Secondly, I believe that the development of the canon has been a process no less informed by the movement of the Spirit than if it had been handed down, like the tablets of the Law, directly from the hand of God. As such, it should be considered with a holistic approach-- not subject to redaction simply because parts of it are difficult or unpalatable. Ugliness has as much to teach us as beauty, and sometimes the most illumination comes out of places of deepest darkness and struggle. Rather than ignoring or denying individual texts whose traditional or surface understanding makes us uncomfortable, we need to consider the canon as a body of work, in addition to the separately written pieces that make it up. Selective readings permit manipulations of the message; and these have been used to advocate human agendas (slavery, or the subordination of women) that a careful consideration of the preponderance of scripture does not support.
Furthermore, recognition that these works, while inspired by God, are transmitted through human authors, opens the interpretive arena to contextual considerations that may significantly affect the message some passages convey to today’s readers. Portions often considered oppressive or burdensome can and should be reconsidered in new ways that illuminate fresh understanding. In light of this, Feminist theologian Sandra Schneiders also suggests use of a toolkit of hermeneutical approaches to difficult texts:
"...scrupulous translation that helps to defeat the gratuitous linguistic masculinizing of biblical material that is actually inclusive; using the liberating traditions of the Bible, such as that of Jephthah’s daughter or the rape of the concubine “in memoriam,” as “texts of terror,” rather than as an acceptable part of the history of salvation; pressing the silences of the text for the hidden stories; and using rhetorical analysis of oppressive texts such as Paul’s disciplinary injunctions against women to establish women’s actual roles and practice in early Christianity."
The catechism in the Book of Common Prayer tells us that the Holy Scriptures are “the Word of God because God inspired their human authors and because God still speaks to us through the Bible;” and that we understand the meaning of the Bible by the help of the Holy Spirit., who guides the Church in the true interpretation of the Scriptures.” This nicely summarizes the theological “middle road” I am trying to walk in this paper. By stating that Scripture is inspired by God, it acknowledges the divine inspiration that should cause us to hesitate at revisionistic, selective consideration. At the same time, conceding the humanity of the authors who conveyed that divinely inspired text prevents us from holding up any one portion of the text as literally flawless transmission of the Word. Instead, we are required by this underanding to struggle through the details and the differences, working together through the canon to find the lessons that God would have us learn.
“Not that we are competent of ourselves to claim anything as coming from us; our competence is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life."
Amid the goings on this weekend, I've noticed a common theme in conversations and discussions. Some were addressed to me, while others I overheard. Note the following:
"You're going to a Baptist church? Will they let you in the door?"
"How can you be Baptist in an Episcopal seminary? Why would you want to?"
"You're going to Jackson, Mississippi? Don't you need a passport?"
"You live in Indiana? Why?"
What you don't hear, in the written version of these questions, are the tones of incredulity, suspicion and (in some cases) something bordering on derision with which they were asked.
These things, and others like them, I hear every day-- and probably say myself far oftener than I realize. But, for whatever reason, this series of small events piled up until they were enough to attract my attention, and got on my last nerve.
For the record, here's the answers I wish I'd given:
1. Yes, I went to a Baptist church on Sunday. Yes, they let me in, and were most gracious and welcoming in the process. No one waved a Bible at me, or termed me a heathen, or suggested my soul was in exceptionally in need of salvation. These are Christian people, concerned as much as any congregation with living out the call of the Gospel as best they can; and, although we have some differences in our faith practice, I was quite comfortable joining the worship and fellowship in this community. Although I am a member of the Episcopal Church, I am first a Christian; and that gives us a common place to start.
2. Please understand that not all of the teaching at Seabury applies exclusively to the Episcopal Church. In fact, much of it is pretty generally mainline protestant in nature. Yes, we have pockets of particularity-- sacraments, and liturgy and such. Those are the things that distinguish our tradition, and so of course they are part of the life here, in curriculum, and in worship. I am grateful for that, and will not apologize for it. But the primary emphasis of this institution is to raise up Christian leadership, which is encouraged and defined both by finding where we fit, and where we diverge. We would be much the poorer if we could not work within and talk through differences in tradition, and we would be serving the cause of Christ very poorly indeed.
3. I am actively looking forward to my trip to Jackson. I will be visiting a place that is very much part of the United States-- and more importantly, people who are as integral a part of the Body of Christ as those in Dyer, Indiana, or Evanston, Illinois, or any other spot on the world map. Yes, there will undoubtedly be differences. This is the point of my going there. This is a good thing.
4. I live in Indiana because I like it there. My home town is not that far away-- geographically closer, in fact, than many places folks take for granted as accessible Chicago suburbs. It just happens to be outside of the city, which allows for breathing space; and over the state line, which makes the cost of living lower. For good or ill, Hoosiers are not so dramatically a different breed; and I love living in a place that allows equal access to urban and rural environments.
Here's the deal: stereotypes develop-- well, because there are people who fit them. Some Baptists wield the Bible more like a weapon than a witness. Some Episcopalians are more concerned with social climbing than salvation. Some people in the Deep South operate in a way foreign to Midwestern understanding. Some Hooisers are hopelessly parochial.
But if you look down my blogroll, you'll see a row of names that I'd like you to know. They-- we-- are a motley crew, and prime stereotype busters. Check them out, and learn the lesson: if you try to pigeonhole based on facts like age, or church affiliation, or home town, you are going to miss a big part of who people are, and the amazing, complicated gifts they offer.
So, look at the ways that we stereotype one another; and then, with due respect-- get over it.
Today we read our theologians’ views on the person and nature of Jesus Christ.
And as much as our three authors were meshing with one another last week, they are flying in very different directions this time.
Williams’ focus in the assigned chapter was not specifically on Christology, per se. He seemed to be addressing the issue of dogma in general, and the Incarnation as the foundation thereof. He is specifically offering his take on Lex Mundi: A Series of Studies in the Religion of the Incarnation, written by M. C. Moberly in 1889. William's offers his Christology within this writing not directly, but as support for his arguments about the nature of and necessity for properly developed dogmatic expression within the church.
Feminist theologian Elizabeth A. Johnson, however, is quite direct, even scathing, in her assault on traditionally patriarchal understandings of Jesus, and especially the damage done by the emphasis on Jesus’ masculinity as an ontological expression of human perfection. However, I found her answer-- to reshape our perception of Christ by overlaying and intermingling the Old Testament image of Wisdom/Sophia-- made me uncomfortable. Quite frankly, it seemed to me a case of two wrongs not making a right, and just as much of a distortion of the image of Christ as she was trying to argue against.
Additionally, I was very offput by Johnson’s efforts to bring in the “universal, nonexclusive character of the wisdom tradition.” Her belief that “Jesus/Sophia personally incarnates Wisdom’s gracious care, in one particular history, for the benefit of all, while she lays down a multiplicity of paths in diverse cultures by which all people may seek and, seeking, find her.” (p. 133) I see as not opening the way to Christian understanding of the Gospel, but departing from it in a well-intentioned but misguided effort to be inclusive. It goes too far.
The foregoing explains why I’m glad that Migliore’s reading was the one I did last. He also is concerned about not portraying the salvation offered by Jesus Christ from an exclusivist position. However, he does not fall into relativism. His preferred approach he terms diological: one in which “Christians and people of other faiths must both take their own faith commitments with the utmost seriousness and enter into open dialogue with others.” (p. 162). He is willing and eager to enter into conversation with other faith traditions, but maintains from the outset that “theological reflection on any topic is Christian to the extent that it recognizes the centrality of Jesus Christ and the salvation he brings.” his christology is open, but also anchored.
Yes, this blog's been neglected for the last few days, due to overkill in the seminarian workload; don't expect it to get better any time soon.
However, I couldn't miss the chance to pass on congrats to brother Tripp, whose church this morning, in fine Baptist tradition, voted (unanimously, mind you, and in very short order) to put him forward for ordination.
The syllabus heading for class today says “Anthropology.” Now, up until this point, I had not connected this word with theology, not known that it had a particular theological definition; but this appears to be so. According to my dictionary, anthropology may be defined as “that part of Christian theology concerning the genesis, nature, and future of humans, especially as contrasted with the nature of God.” Given this, it seems appropriate that we follow our discussion of creation with a study of ourselves as creatures.
We were assigned portions to read from four different texts today, which initially sounds quite labor-intensive; in fact, I found the reading easier to absorb than I expected. This was due, in part, to commonalities between the texts. Williams, Migliore, and feminist writer Mary Aquin O’Neill all placed significant emphasis on humanity’s dependence on God and one another as a vital component of being human. They do not see this as an inhibition of our ability to function as free beings, able to make independent choices. On the contrary, recognition and acceptance of both our need for God, and to support and be supported by one another, is shown to be liberating knowledge, which enables us to be able to live fully into our possibilities. “To be human,” Migliore notes, “is to live freely in relationships of mutual respect and love.” (p. 122) He says, in fact, that this, not our physical attributes, is what it means to be created in the image of God: to live in “self-transcending life in relationship with others-- with the ‘wholly other’ we call God, and with all those different ‘others’ who need our help and whose help we also need in order to be what God intends us to be.” (p. 122).
Then, however, the authors take this commonality of interconnected nature, and veer off in quite different directions with it. O’Neill holds it up as direct contradiction to individualistic models of understanding; the “androgynous and unisexual images so prevalent in the culture, as well as the tradition of complimentarity in the Roman Catholic church.” (p. 150) She then holds up for consideration Mary, the mother of Jesus, as part of an anthropological corrective to the problem. I was taken aback by one or two comments seeming to ascribe something of a redemptive nature to Marian devotion; I’m not comfortable taking it that far. However, O’Neill does offer an alternative insight, including Mary in some scriptural understandings that I found very intriguing.
Migliore, on the other hand, moves from the nature of created humanity, to fallen humanity; and a lengthy discussion of the nature of sin-- as both active, self-chosen act and passive, universal condition; as presumption as well as resignation; as “not only titanic, Luciferian rebellion but also the timid, obsequious refusal to dare to be fully human by God’s grace.” (p. 131)
It is this arena into which Rutledge steps, with her sermon on “God-damned Christians.” (Ch. 16) She delves fully into pervasive sin: that which we easily recognize in ourselves and society, as well as that which we prefer to write off as mistake, or error in judgment. She holds up the Cross as a mirror to help us see “the God-forsakenness of sin,” as well as “the victory of God over sin,” (p. 132) and thereby reminds us again why the horror of the crucifixion is also “at the very center of the Christian message.” (p. 133)
Open any door, and there they are. Go to the window, and they're peering through the panes. Turn on a lamp, and I see them waiting. I can't avoid them-- my classes, the chapel, the refectory-- yes, even my bedroom. They're everywhere. Beady little eyes, watching me. Hard bodies, shining in the light, walking toward me on sturdy legs...
Ladybugs. Tiny, orange stalkers. I turned back my covers last night to find one resting on my pillow, like some sort of gift from a warped concierge. This morning I got in the shower, where an uninvited guest leapt from the shower curtain as I closed it, and landed on the shampoo.
The reading for today’s class was rather lighter than usual. Whether this was out of sympathy for the need to study for today’s scheduled theological vocabulary quiz, or simply a lull in the syllabus, I’m not certain; but I’m grateful for the time. Thanks, teach!
In any event, we were assigned two chapters from Migliori. The first of these deals with an understanding of creation. Migliori begins by addressing one of the most common (and, to my mind, often legitimate) criticisms of traditional Christian thought and practice: the “primary, if not exclusive attention” given to the creation of humanity, and the way that the “divine command to humanity to ‘have dominion’ over the earth (Gen 1:26) has been twisted into an ideology of mastery.” (p. 82). Migliori argues against this viewpoint, insisting rather on a biblically-grounded concept of human beings as trustees, as caretakers of God’s creation, responsible for both prudent use and ongoing concern for all that which God has declared as intrinsically good from its inception.
The final portion of this chapter is devoted to confronting perceived conflicts between the biblical creation story and modern science. He points out that the worlds of faith and reason are not, by necessity, mutually exclusive. Both offer important insights; and the fact that they are from divergent perspectives does not diminish their veracity. In fact, he states quite plainly his belief that claims heard from the hard-line ends of the spectrum (fundamental biblicism vs. evolutionary atheism) that “only one of these languages is the voice of truth is simply confounded and arrogant.” (p. 95). He then goes on to offer a more nuanced approach, where each sphere (faith and reason) not only balances, but informs one another, and together offer a fuller appreciation of “the complex and fragile beauty of the interrelated world created by God.” (p. 98).
The second chapter we were assigned talked about theodicy-- that portion of theological thought dealing with how we as Christians balance our belief in God’s loving providence with our recognition of the existence of evil in the world. Migliore offers up a very short synopsis of the way this topic has been considered, both from historical (Augustine and Calvin) and contemporary (Barth and Cobb, Hick and Cone, among others) perspectives. He then offers critiques, noting the areas they address, as well as the gaps apparent in each. Finally, he concludes with his own, decidedly trinitarian approach, made possible in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. He quotes Moltmann, who holds that by this, “all the suffering of the world is encompassed in the affliction of the Son, the grief of the Father, and the comfort of the Spirit, who inspires courage and hope to pray and work for the renewal of all things.” (p.115).
He does not, like some theologians, try to offer an explanation for why evil happens, which may be the hole in his argument. He acknowledges this, noting that his proposal is only a preliminary to the reconstruction of the doctrine of providence that he believes is necessary. However, he also maintains that “the biblical witness is far less interested in speculation on the origin of evil than on resistance to it in confidence of the superiority and ultimate victory of God’s love;” (p.119), and that trusting in divine providence in the face of evil is the anchor to which believers must cling as they “continue to watch, pray and struggle for God’s new world in the company of all who are afflicted and cry for deliverance.” (p. 119)
Okay, the outlook is better: through a combination of herbal home remedies (echinacea, slippery elm bark tea), modern medicine (codeine-based cough syrup), and lots of sleep, things are improving rapidly. Sorry about the whining, folks. Been doing too much of that lately. Time to stop-- now.
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One thing about staying still for a couple days; It's given me time to catch up on some of my reading, as well as on the news (or facsimiles thereof) coming out of Canterbury. It's certainly not the schismatic blast that some feared (or hoped?); but I'm not inclined to write it off as leading to nothing, either. I guess the way it sounds to me, is ominous-- with the potential for vague, unspecified consquences on the horizon. Whether this is because the primates have not made up their minds, or because they chose not to air the specifics for the press, I'm not sure.
Brother Jeff has a posting on this issue that makes some good points, and asks some good questions; but what caught my attention was in one of his comment responses: "...the REAL communion or Community to me," he says, "is global as much as it is local." Then he adds, "But that's just one Anglo-Catholic's opinion." Well, maybe not, Jeff, because I agree with you.
Further, I believe that we favor one side of that community over another at our peril, and to the detriment of the witness to which we are called as the body of Christ. In fact, that's what I see happening, on both sides of this issue.
Some have been acting and speaking in consideration of "the larger Communion" for many years, as a justification to leave unacknowledged and in pain the community of homosexual brothers and sisters in our midst. And then some acted, at Convention, in consideration of our brothers and sisters in New Hampshire; but without fully considering the impact on our brothers and sisters in Honduras, or Rwanda, or anywhere outside our borders. And now we are faced with the consequenses of these choices.
One of the books we're reading for our preaching class is called The Word Before the Powers, and there's much that author Charles Campbell says about "powers and principalities" that applies to the way we in the Anglican Communion have been behaving in these last few months. He talks about the strategies of the Powers to accomplish their purposes, and it breaks my heart that I see several of them being acted out-- on both sides of the current dustup. Consider:
-Negative Sanctions: "Conservative" repudiations, and threats to withdraw financial support from the national church (and remember, there were similar threats from "liberals," if the vote had not gone their way).
-Rewards and Promises: Avowals of acceptance and/or tolerance for those of differing opinions (that isn't really there) and righteous assurance for those who make "the right choice."
-Isolation and Division: 'nough said.
-Public Ritualizing of Relationships: With what little that did come conclusively out of the Canterbury meeting, this seems to be what it amounted to.
-Language and Image: Both factions are incredibly guilty of using "verbal inflation, libel, rumor, euphamism and coded phrases... [and] such profusion in speech and sound that comprehension is impaired." In other words, more concerned about sounding good than listening well.
For God's sake, and for the sake of the Gospel by which we are called, we have got to do better than this. But that's just one Evangelical Anglican's opinion.
Tonight is The Fun Fair at Kyle's school. This annual soiree is the major fundraiser of the year, as well an event that kids really enjoy. Face painting and crafts, cake walks and bozo buckets and dozens of other games, and an enormous fun house set up in the gym. I love working at the fair, been doing it for years: running a game, or serving up hot dogs and pizza, or tallying tickets in the redemption center, whatever. Hanging with the kids is a hoot.
But not this year. This year, I have somehow become infested with an upper respiratory plague. Tried all week to shake it, but it's just gotten worse. I am sniffling and sneezing and achy and coughing from my toes. I caved and went to the doctor this afternoon, who agreed that I was ill, and gave me various potions to alleviate the problem; but that doesn't help tonight.
So Bruce and Kyle have trotted over to the fair, leaving me parked alone on the sofa, with textbooks and tissues and hot tea. I have little enough time with my family as it is; to have some impertinent bug cutting into that further just really isn't fair, doggone it.
We continued our look at the Trinity today with Rowan Williams. Williams has three chapters devoted to the topic: considering trinitarian theology through the concepts of revelation, ontology and pluralism. I will start by freely admitting that I found this reading contained some of the densest, most difficult to penetrate material we have covered to date-- and that I felt pretty dense in trying to tackle it! Specifically, the middle chapter (“Trinity and Ontology”) lost me early, and I was never quite able to grasp the point at which he was driving in this chapter.
In the other two sections, however, I (eventually!) came to appreciate Williams’ efforts not to so much redefine trinitarian understanding, as in Migliore and LaCugna’s works, as a reinterpretation of the concepts of revelation and pluralism in light of his understanding of the Trinity. Based on his arguments, revelation is not so much an event, as the ongoing process of humanity becoming aware of God through “what is generative in our experience... that break[s] existing frames of reference and initiate[s] new possibilities of life.” (p.134). Similarly, he sees pluralism not with a pantheistic “all paths lead to God” approach, but instead as “resistance to the homogenization of human beings... resistance to the forces in our world that make for the reduction of persons and personal communities to units in large-scale, determined processes.” (p. 174). In both cases, he circles around to our familiar understanding of Trinity as community; and, as a consequence, the idea that it is through community that God is most ably understood.
In this way, Williams' more academic theological discussion ties in beautifully with the semon on "True Inclusiveness," in Fleming Rutledge's Help My Unbelief, also assigned for today. Her holding up of the Gospel message of “justification of the ungodly and the undeserving” (p. 77) as revelatory, as generative of a new understanding, as “more inclusive than anyone who does not know scripture could ever imagine,” sends the same message (albeit in a manner far more easily grasped).
This week, we are considering the Trinity-- for both class sessions, actually. A topic this large, and this vital to Christian thought, understandably requires an extended discussion, and further reading than some other areas.
For the first class session, we read Migliore and LaCugna’s take on trinitarian theology. I found I thoroughly enjoyed both authors. Initially, these two had more in common than I had originally expected. Both were focused on an effort, in Migliore’s words, to “retrieve and re-present the Christian doctrine of the Trinity in a contemporary idiom and in all its revolutionary significance.” (p. 60) Additionally, both authors pounded home the importance of envisioning God through the lens of communal understanding. Migliore’s vision of God as “not the supreme will-to-power over others but the supreme will-to-community in which power and life are shared” dovetails well with LaCugna’s preference for the ontology of “priority of communion of persons over being-in-itself.” (p. 91).
However, from these agreements, the two texts diverge in their approach. Migliore follows with a presentation on how this understanding affects and directs an understanding of election/predestination that I found fascinating; the first time, actually, that I’ve ever heard the topic presented in a manner which didn’t leave me irritated at giving credence to an image of God that was arbitrarily choosing sides. LaCugna, on the other hand, uses the developed themes of God’s personhood and communion to argue against understandings of “complimentarity:” a sort of “separate but equal” doctrine by which some theologians seem to describe not only the Trinity, but then derivatively use to justify a belief in women being naturally subordinate to men. She argues her more egalitarian position persuasively, I think, addressing several of the most common justifications for that position clearly and concisely.
One of the things on my agenda to work on this weekend was the production of a thesis for my Systematics class. The thesis is stage one of the writing for the course, assigned over the quarter in 4 pieces that build on one another, thusly:
I. Thesis statement, identifying a theological center (Revelation, Trinity, Grace, or some such) for discourse, and a "sign of the times" to be examined through the lens of that locus. This is turned in with a preliminary bibliography.
II. A paper (5-7 pages) developing aforementioned center, analyzing and developing the area of theology identified in part 1.
III. Expand the previous paper by another 5-7 pages, integrating a look at the "sign of the times" through the theology developed in part 2.
IV. Write a sermon, referencing appropriate biblical texts, addressing what is developed in part 3.
Bible geek that I am, I knew I wanted to do something around the area of hermeneutics: the area of theology that deals with biblical interpretation. It took me a while to figure out where to start on this; but an extended iChat with the peerless AKMA, patient instructor and work-study supervisor extrordinaire, gave me a tenuous start (have I told you lately that I love my boss?).
So, I want to talk about the nature of biblical interpretation: what it means to say that scripture is "inspired by God," over and against the extremes of
A. right-wing fundamentalist biblicism ("Every word of the Bible must be accepted as literally true"); or
B. left-wing liberal theology ("the Bible is full of unenlightened, patriarchial attitudes that should be discarded in the modern era").
Both extremes seem to want to read selectively; but if I believe that the Bible is "Inspired by God," then I must
B. admit the importance of careful reading and study of entire canon, albeit with a more nuanced, balanced approach; and
A. learn from and live by the preponderance of scripture, and not simply selected "proof texts," which are sometimes not even biblical in origin (i.e., "the Lord helps those who help themselves.")
(Ok, I know I'm simplifying here, and that it's more complicated than that. But please, be patient. This is a summary blog, a work in progress, and not the fleshed out paper.)
For a "sign of the times," I think I want to look at the "family values" movement in our society-- a postmodern, often post-Christian society. How it is affected by ill-informed proof-texting or selective theology? Consider, for example, the recent fuss in Georgia surrounding a stone monument of the 10 Commandments in front of the courthouse. Compare the reasoning of the judge, and the comments of defenders and detractors, and the way the incident was portrayed in the media. A lot of oratory from perspectives of fundamentalism and "Christian Americanism"-- what some term the civil religion-- but not much reasoned theology.
So, what do you think? Feel free to speak up; but be gentle, please.
OK... after a few good meals and some healthy conversations, (Thanks, folks-- I love you, too!) real sleep in my actual bed, and a day spent plowing through the backlog, I am once again approaching a semblance of sanity.
The prayer issue is still there, feeling like the talk in my head isn't going further; but I've encountered dry spells before, and feel in a much better frame of mind to weather it, when I'm not feeling so splintered and incompetent in the rest of my life as well.
Things I'm thankful for: Sympathetic ears
Victories over ATLA (the Evil Overlord of databases)
Mint Oreo ice cream
Flannel sheets
iChat
Hot showers with lavender soap
The second week of classes, and I am feeling... in way over my head. Textbooks and papers, ordos and rotas, schedules, services, classes and meetings... too much to do, and no time to breathe in the midst of it all. I want-- need-- to spend time with people I love, family and friends; but when I do, there's this giant vulture hanging over my head, and I can't seem to relax. I'm not sleeping well, and quite frankly, my prayer life is operating on autopilot-- when I try to pray, instead of being support and comfort, it feels like yet another obligation on that looming list of expectations I am struggling to fulfill, and I can't.
I know, this too shall pass. Please God, let it be soon.
We continued our work in the three books we began for Monday, this time reading the sections in each text that deal primarily with the interpretation of scripture and the concept of revelation. There were several points of agreement between the books regarding the former. None of them gave much credence to the idea of scriptural inerrancy, for example; all saw the need for interpretive study, for awareness of historical/contextual influence, and for what Migliore terms “both a hermeneutics of trust and a hermeneutics of suspicion.” (p. 51) The differences were the emphasis placed by each author.
Williams speaks at length of the historicity of the canon, referring to “the world of scripture [as] an historical world in which meanings are discovered and recovered in action and encounter.” (p. 30)
Feminist theologian Sandra Schneiders endorses more of a “reader response” model of criticism, and urges “scrupulous translation... rhetorical analysis... and reinterpreting with feminist sensibilities texts dealing with women... which have been distorted or trivialized in the male-dominated exegetical and homiletic tradition.” (p. 51).
Migliore stresses the importance of biblical study and analysis contextually within the church, interpreting “in the context of the memory and hope of the Christian community,” being “open to the instruction and insights of the larger community of faith, past and present.” (p. 54)
While I see merit in the distinctions that each perspective brings to the hermeneutical discussion, I find I prefer Migliore’s approach. Working within the faith community-- not only my own congregation, but the community of believers that is the larger Body of Christ-- provides understanding that I could not possibly achieve on my own, as well as a system of “checks and balances” that I believe is vital to both understanding faith and living it.
The reading for today’s class was structured a little differently than the first: instead of reading one book in its entirety, we made brief inroads into three.
The first of these, Freeing Theology: The Essentials of Theology in Feminist Perspective, is a collection of essays written by Roman Catholic feminist theologians. The first chapter discusses the nature of feminist theology, and how it both follows and differs from more “traditional” approaches to theological study. As in secular society, there are a wide variety of viewpoints that fit under the umbrella of “feminist.” These range from a simple revisiting of “normative” interpretive practice, including women’s viewpoints and experience in areas where they were largely unconsidered; to actively employing feminine imagery and bias, including that from “extra-biblical sources,” designed to offset the overarching masculine tone of historic interpretation and thought.
The second text, Rowan Williams’ On Christian Theology, was also the most challenging read. This book arose from various essays he has written over time, and so begins, in the prologue, by offering some foundational definition of his approach in various chapters. There, he outlines the nature of what he terms “celebratory,” “communicative,” and “critical” approaches to theological writing, and the purpose and function of each. He then opens in chapter one with a discussion of the nature of and need for integrity in theological discourse. This he defines as “being able to speak in a way which allows of answers. Honest discourse permits response and continuation; it invites collaboration... by showing in its own working a critical self-perception, displaying the axioms to which it believes itself accountable.” In chapter two he moves on to a discussion of unity: what it is and is not, and where it may be found in Christian theologies from varying sources.
The third text we began this week was Daniel Migliore’s Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology. Migliore approaches the subject from an unapologetically faith-based perspective. Moreover, he maintains that it is impossible to do otherwise; that “theological inquiry requires continuing participation in the common life of a community of faith, prayer and service.” (pg. xii) However, this perspective does not preclude honest questioning, does not insist upon a blindered dogmatism. In fact, the first chapter of the book insists that the quest for truth, the “continuous process of inquiry,” is in fact the purpose of theology, and a requirement for Christian thought:
"If we believe in God, we must expect that our old ways of thinking and living will be continually shaken to the foundations. If we believe in God, we will have to become seekers, pilgrims, pioneers with no permanent residence. We will no longer be satisfied with the unexamined beliefs and practices of our everyday personal and social world. If we believe in God, we will necessarily question the gods of power, wealth, nationality and race that clamor for our allegiance. Christian faith is thinking faith." (p. 4-5)
He then offers a series of questions which he believes are foundational starting points for theological discussion, and a short discussion of methodologies for seeking answers, along with examples of noted theologians who employ those methods.
These three books cover a fair portion of Frei’s range of theological approaches as Ford outlines them. And I found something to appreciate in all three: the feminist theologians’ willingness to dig through scripture for overlooked perspective; Williams insistence upon the importance of seeking unity while maintaining integrity; and Migliore’s approach of “eyes-open faith” as foundation for inquiry.
Gentle Readers will note that Jeff was one of the respondents to my previous, exuberant post about our impending trip to St. Phillip's, Jackson. Ever earnest, ever helpful, the dear boy suggested some reading material, in order to prepare prepare us for our adventures.
What sort of reading? you may ask. Something of great theological import? Perhaps a guidebook, to help us find our way around? No-- simply an oblique reference to Sweet Potato Queens.
So I obediently trotted over this morning to my local public library, where I did indeed find the following learned tomes on the shelf:
All three books were penned by self-proclaimed Boss Queen, Jill Conner Browne, and promise such delightful tidbits as:
"The True Magic Words Guaranteed to Get Any Man to Do Your Bidding"
"Men Who Need Killing, Quite Frankly"(suppose these two are related?) "What to Eat When Tragedy Strikes, or Just for Entertainment"
and of course,
"The Best Advice Ever Given in the Entire History of the World"
Geez, these women are a hoot! With insightful literature like this available, why have I been wasting my time on dusty theologians in preparation for ministry?
Our Plunge site assignments were put in our mailboxes this morning, and I'm headed south! Along with classmates Dave and Carolyn, I will be spending the first two weeks of November enmeshed in the parish life at St. Phillip's, Jackson, Mississippi. Isn't that neat?! I am seriously psyched.
It took me a bit to find the website, so I started with looking up the "live" address-- and discovered that I will be a scant 130 miles from Greenville. You paying attention, Fr. Knight? Let me be really clear-- I do not expect to spend two weeks in your neck of the woods and not lay eyes on your smiling face!
Classes have started again-- finally. My kids have been in school for more than a month now, and I'm ready for it to be my turn. I have four classes this term:
Church, Ministry and Culture - This deals with the function of parish communities, and the leadership thereof. Our nickname for this course is "the Plunge," because it includes a 2 1/2 week immersion in a parish somewhere: interviewing leadership (lay and clergy), participating in all parish activities, etc. We're supposed to find out today which teams we're on, and where our plunge sites are.
Preparing to Preach - My first preaching class. I''m really excited about it; I've only been in the pulpit a few times, but it's a part of the ministry I find that I love. There's an electricity about standing up to proclaim the Word that is incomparable.
Systematic Theology - I've been a little nervous about this one. It's one of the courses that stands well outside my previous experience (not a lot of theology or philosophy discussed in engineering!), and taught, this term, by an adjunct professor we've not met before. We had the first class Monday, and I think it's going to be ok. The prof seems like a decent sort, enthusiastic about his subject, and the work load looks to be substantial, but not overwhelmingly so.
Praying with Scripture - This is a small (1/3 credit) spirituality class that meets weekly. Ought to be helpful; anything that sticks my nose back in my Bible is a good thing.
I've been really caught up in various ancillary activities around here-- ordos, scheduling, work study, etc.-- and I mostly enjoy that stuff; but I'm glad to get back to the learning that's the main reason I'm here.
One of the things we have to do for Systematics is to turn in a short journal entry each class session, contemplating the reading we had to do for that day. Being a comfortable resident in the blogiverse, I figure to post them here as well.
Systematics Journal Entry #1
I found David Ford’s book, Theology: A Very Short Introduction, to be a pleasant way to start this course. I’ve been a little intimidated at the prospect of taking this class; I do not have an extensive background in this material, and there is so much to learn and absorb as to be overwhelming. However, the approach Ford takes in this text-- simple without being simplistic, and offering clear explanations to the novice without being patronizing-- is quite palatable.
I especially appreciated the way Ford outlines the spectrum of theological thought, using Frei’s linear portrayal of 5 basic types of Christian Theology (p. 23-27). That gave me a visual image, upon which I could then hang the various theologians and topics, as a basis for both comparison and understanding. It helped to have that picture in my head as I read the later sections. I could then read the chapter discussing Jesus, for example, take the various thoughts expressed there, and identify where on the spectrum they might fall. This really made it easier for me to hold on, as it were, to the discussion at hand.
An image I found less helpful was that used to illustrate the connections between world, self, and language (p. 145). In this case, the diagram seemed to me to limit understanding, rather than expand it. For example, are there not also issues of truth between world and self, as well as between world and language? The epistemological discussion of an apple (p. 147-155) was a far more effective demonstration of the intricacies involved in theological discussion and understanding.
