Monthly Archives: September 2007 - Page 2

Can we “Begin with Christ”?

Posted by on September 7, 2007 7 comments

My recent post on whether or not we must begin theology with Christ has engendered a lot of discussion.  One of the thoughts that led me to post on this is the incredible difficulty of “beginning with Jesus” in our theology. I fear that we too quickly turn the Jesus with which our theology begins into an object that is far to given at the outset. We have a pretty good idea of what Jesus is about and his signficance from which we then can construct our theology.

However, in the gospels, and particularly the resurrection narratives, one of the central features of the Risen Christ is his irreducible otherness, his mysterious distance from us, his refusal to be easily circumscribed in a way that we might “cling to him” (John 20:17). He bears the scars of the crucifixion and yet appears in rooms with locked doors. He is the Jesus we knew throughout his life, and yet his now beyond us in a new way, a way that we cannot bridge to have immediate access to him. When we talk about the Risen Christ we are always in some sense talking about a Stranger. This is a central insight of Rowan Williams’ christology.

So, if this is the case, then “begining with Jesus” or having Christ as “the center” is no easy or straightforward matter. It involves a long and agonizing process of, well, discipleship in which we must labor and strive to find points of contact with the one who is always alien, always beyond our grasp.

I guess my fundamental point is that being Christocentric in our theology is no easier than the actual task of following Christ. It is not a methodological decision that we can just make and be done with it. If we find it easy for Christ to be the “center” of our theological constructs, we may well have domesticated Christ in ways we don’t suspect, attempting to turn the Stranger into a familiar.  I am all for being Christocentric in theology, in fact I think it is absolutely indispensible for us to be so engaged in the theological task.  However, I believe we often underestimate the difficulty, both intellectual and existential of truly being Christocentric.  Christocentric theology, if it is truly Christocentric should be a very painful and difficult process.  For Christ the Stranger cannot be assimilated into any theological system.  The task of theology is to become assimilated to him.  And that is a costly task, one that may cost our very lives.  And almost certianly it will cost our academic credibility.

Some good book reviews

Posted by on September 6, 2007 1 comment

For those interested, check out my friend David Horstkoetter’s blog, Flying Farther for some great reviews of the books he read over the summer.  There are some stirring reviews of Miroslav Volf’s latest book, Roger Haight’s Christology, and other books on terrorism, the American mythos and more.

My Peace I leave with you: Index of Posts

Posted by on September 6, 2007 4 comments

Here is a listing of all the posts that have appeared so far in the “My Peace I leave with you” series.  At present I’ve posted all the entries I have recieved.  I don’t think I’ll permanently close the series, as there are a few more people who still may be getting essays to me.  Also, I’m always open to adding more entries from different traditions, so if that interests you, please contact me.

Here’s the list of entries that have appeared so far:

My thanks to all the contibutors.  I think it was a good series, and I look forward to it having a lingering life span.

Must we “Begin with Christ”?

Posted by on September 5, 2007 13 comments

I have mused a bit lately about a central question in Christology and theological method.  My instincts are firmly Barthian on the point of how theological inquiry must be shaped.  By this I mean that I generally am inclined to take the person and work of Jesus Christ as the basic “starting point” for theology.  Or to put it in a way that is often tauted: “Theology begins and ends with Jesus Christ.”

I certainly am not rejecting such an understanding of theology, but I’ve pondered two questions that I think relate to this issue.  First, is it totally legitimate to say that we must begin theological inquiry with the person and work of Christ when God, according to the Scriptural narrative did not begin to reveal himself by becoming incarnate, but rather through a long history with Israel?  Second, what does it mean to talk about a theological “starting point” at all?  When do we ever “start” doing theology?  Our theological thinking is always retroactive and embedded within a multitude of contexts, beliefs, convictions, and priorities that shape our formal theological inquiry.  It seems that at many points saying “I begin my theology with Jesus” may hinder than help the process of actual theological reflection and particularly a theologians ability to be self-critical.  After all, if I begin my theology with Jesus and you disagree with me, then the problem is obvious: you’re not Christocentric enough and the debate is over.

 So, I’m curious what people might think.  Must theology begin with Christ, if God’s revelation does not begin there?  Does it make sense to talk about clearly defined “starting points” in theology at all?  What might the answers to these questions mean for the doing of theology?

My Peace I leave with you (VI): Eastern Orthodoxy

Posted by on September 4, 2007 2 comments

An Eastern Orthodox Pacifism?

A guest-post by Daniel Greeson

The Iraqi conflict was the first time that war became a reality to me. I can still faintly remember watching the Persian Gulf conflict on the television when I was just a kindergartner. It involved faint outlines of tanks, generals, and explosions in the night. To me it was almost like any other show that I would have watched as a child. War was not real, it was television.

I did not honestly began pondering a Christian response to war until about two years or so ago. I was vaguely aware that the tradition I had grown up in (Stone-Campbell) had some strong streaks of pacifism (David Lipscomb being the brightest example) but I personally had not seriously considered how I as a follower of Christ would understand war.

Like other guest bloggers I was primarily challenged to consider this issue by Stanley Hauerwas and John Howard Yoder (and also Shane Claiborne and Lee Camp (some-one representing the Stone/Campbell tradition!)). I read deeply and widely in the Hauerwas/Yoder corpus, and came to pretty much agree with most of the theology presented. I joined the Ekklesia Project and even attended a summer gathering (‘06) and spent some time with the Englewood Christian Church in Indianapolis, Indiana.  Another companion in this decision was the song-writing of Derek Webb. Pacifism came to me primarily as a simple understanding of the example and teaching of Christ. It was never completely refined nor developed thoroughly into a system, but was rather a simple desire to love my enemies and to turn the other cheek.

What adds the twist to this rather boring and mundane telling of someone’s turning to pacifism is that about a year after encountering and embracing pacifism I became an Orthodox Christian. To join a Church that venerated Constantine as a Saint was rather troubling for me in the beginning. Despite how closely Hauerwas and Yoder tie “Constintinian” Christianity to the Church’s inability to maintain a pacifist stance I took the plunge (literally) and became an Orthodox Christian.

What I found in Orthodoxy was not only others who shared similar convictions as mine (e.g. Orthodox Peace Fellowship), but a tradition that would be able to equip me with the sacramental life that I had found missing in the Anabaptist and Stone-Campbell movement. One of the things that I had found sadly missing in a lot of the pacifist literature was the absence of a strong sacramental life. I found that the liturgical life of Orthodoxy equipped me with what I call the imaginative backdrop to actually strive for peace. For example, one of the central prayers that Orthodox incorporate into the liturgical life during Lent is a prayer attributed to St. Ephrem.

“O Lord and Master of my life, give me not the spirit of sloth, idle curiosity/meddling, lust for power and idle talk.  But grant unto me, Thy servant, a spirit of chastity/integrity, humility, patience and love.

Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see mine own faults and not to judge my brothers and sisters. For blessed art Thou unto the ages of ages. Amen.”

On top of this was the example of the Saints. The first Saint that I read about and learned from was the recently reposed St. Silouan the Athonite. His teachings on prayer and weeping for the entire world had a major impact on me.

“The Lord taught me to love my enemies. Without the grace of God we cannot love our enemies. Only the Holy Spirit teaches love, and then even devils arouse our pity be-cause they have fallen from good, and lost humility in God. I beseech you, put this to the test. When a man affronts you or brings dishonor on your head, or takes what is yours, or persecutes the Church, pray to the Lord, saying: “O Lord, we are all Thy crea-tures. Have pity on Thy servants and turn their hearts to repentance,” and you will be aware of grace in your soul. To begin with, constrain your heart to love enemies, and the Lord, seeing your good will, will help you in all things, and experience itself will shoe you the way. But the man who thinks with malice of his enemies has not God’s love within him, and does not know God.If you will pray for your enemies, peace will come to you; but when you can love your enemies – know that a great measure of the grace of God dwells in you, though I do not say perfect grace as yet, but sufficient for salvation. Whereas if you revile your enemies, it means there is an evil spirit living in you and bringing evil thoughts into your heart, for, in the words of the Lord, out of the heart pro-ceed evil thoughts – or good thoughts.”- St. Silouan the Athonite

Not only the sacramental life of the Orthodox Church contributed to my spiritual growth (and hence my pacifism), but the ascetical tradition of Orthodoxy as well. Learning the benefits of fasting, vigils, spiritual fatherhood, and the great blessing of monastic literature has made me come to agree with Archimandrite Sophrony completely when he says- “There are three things I cannot take in: non-dogmatic faith, non-ecclesiological Christianity and non-ascetical Christianity. These three – the church, dogma, and asceticism – constitute one single life for me.” Pacifism is only possible for me when I am engaged and challenged by the Church. I need the church basically for the same reason that I have heard Hauerwas has said he does, “because I’m a violent son-of-a-bitch!”

So it is within the Orthodox Church that I have been striving to fulfill St. Seraphim of Sarov’s well known and beloved quote, “Acquire a peaceful spirit, and around you thousands will be saved.”

My Peace I leave with you (V): A Free Church-Evangelical Pacifism

Posted by on September 2, 2007 5 comments

A Couple of Theological Turns that can lead to Pacifism

A guest-post by David Horstkoetter 

I do not want to repeat what others have said in the series, so I do not plan to make an argument for my pacifism, rather, I want to mention a couple of the deciding factors the led to my shift and will also provide a critical reader more concepts to investigate. My pacifism grew out of two movements in my life – one that seems as clear as lightening and the other born out of a slower theological growth.

First, my social location. I was born into conservative Protestantism (which was sometimes evangelical, sometimes fundamentalist and even at times Pentecostal…ish), the Republican party and a family that was more than just a little pro military. One grandfather came back from Korea with sniper pins (or something to that effect), and more in the other family were in World War 2 with stories of sacrifice and danger. To bring the situation more up to date, I have been in discussions where family has said coercive, militaristic force is mandatory for keeping the peace, even on one’s own citizens; that anything goes to maintain the status quo and the perception of safety. None of this I suspect is new to anyone in America, or anywhere for that matter, but it seems socially locating one’s self is necessary for this autobiographical statement. Lastly, I suppose I am a “free church” pacifist which some might find weird in light of what I will soon say.

The first shift I can see clearly in my mind. It was a sunny day in Portland, Oregon at my undergrad school and just past noon. I was sitting on the beat up, orange couch, alone in the shade of my room and reading a small book I had somehow came across – The Wisdom of Tolstoy. There is a specific instance in the book that Tolstoy chronicles a Rabbi stating, something to the effect of, “There is a lot in your New Testament about nonviolence, but you don’t listen.” It was this statement in combination with Tolstoy’s message on the Sermon on the Mount that struck my mind dumb for the next half hour. It was here I realized that taking the text seriously very well might mean non-violence and non-violence is possible. Sure friends of mine were reading Hauerwas and Yoder, but that did not have the effect on me that other people felt, well, not by then it hadn’t. For me, it was Tolstoy. Call him the gateway drug to pacifism.

However, I do not think Tolstoy would have had the effect he did without a simultaneous rising of communal ecclesiology in my theology. I suppose it wasn’t a full on community ecclesiology then, more like an inchoate communality, but I had just written a paper on individualism and community in the church, arguing for the dumping of a mechanistic, individualistic anthropology in favor of the communal, organic body of Christ. As time has progressed and my ecclesiology found root within Christological/Eschatological Kingdom theology, so my pacifism strengthened. By identifying far more within the body of Christ – an extension of the kingdom here but not yet here – than any nation-state, my politics have taken a different turn in thought (which is partly why I hope to do a PhD in the subject of political theology – a response by myself to evils in the world is mandatory, but how ought the church engage?). Also, William Cavanaugh has been very helpful here; through re-examining history, his writings helped me, who was blind to the intrinsic coercive nature of the nation-state, to see where peace and coercion really lay.

It seems as one’s ecclesiology strengthens, particularly when it focuses on relationships, pacifism becomes the option. Doing violence to another human being just doesn’t exist, for it is the church who takes in the hurting and criticizes the powerful. The economy of God functions radically different and that is our first allegiance. America is cool and all, but despite what it might think, it isn’t God or the church.

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