In thinking towards what I want to set my blogging sites on for the next year, I thought I’d let my readers weigh in and see what they are most interested in seeming my write about. This of course does not mean I’m giving up the decision to you all! Just that I value your input about my writing and what I write about.
[polldaddy poll=1062682]
I don’t know how many things I’ve posted or seen elsewhere asking people who they think the “greatest” theologian is, was, or will be. There are all manner of ways of evaluating theologians, classifying them according to different measures of greatness, importance, or influence.
Perhaps some of this begs an important question though: What exactly is theological greatness? What is the proper theological definition of what being a true theologian of the Christian church means? I would suggest that we need a properly theological definition of what being a great theologian might mean if we are to make any helpful or accurate judgments about which of the theologians and doctors of our faith are most worth celebrating and engaging.
I have my own ideas, but first I want people to weigh in: What is theological greatness? What is the theological meaning of being a theologian?
“The church is sent into the world to challenge the false pretensions of the prince of the world, not in any power or wisdom or greatness of its own. It is sent in the power of his consecration. Its victory is the paradoxical victory of the cross. It is sent ‘bearing about in the body the dying of Jesus, that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in the body’ (II Cor. 4:10). The mission of the church is effected only through participation in the passion of Jesus as he challenges and masters the power of the evil one. And, conversely, there is no participation in Christ without participation in this passion and conflict.”
– Lesslie Newbigin, The Light has Come: An Exposition of the Fourth Gospel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 233.
In America today political posturing and fear-mongering is everywhere on all sides of the constructed liberal–conservative spectrum. There is angst everywhere about the direction of Western civilization and how to “save” it, especially among Christians. John Howard Yoder has the right message for all such forms of jumpy edginess about the state of Western culture:
“What then should be the path of the church in our time? We muse first of all confess — if we believe it — that the meaning of history lies not in the acquisition and defence of the culture and freedoms of the West, not in the aggrandizement of material comforts and political sovereignty, but in the calling together ‘for God saints from every tribe and language and people and nation,’ a ‘ people of his own who are zealous for good deeds.’ The basic theological issue is not between Bultmann and Barth, not between the sacramental and the prophetic emphases, nor between the Hebraic and Greek mentalities, but between those for whom the church is a reality and those for whom it is the institutional reaction of the good and bad conscience, of the insights, the self-encouragement — in short, of the religion of society.”
– John Howard Yoder, The Royal Priesthood (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 61-62.
It doesn’t get much more right on than that. The true political disagreement today is not between right and left, but between those who do and those who don’t think that the church is “really” a reality in this world which, in Christ, carries the meaning of history.
In his article, “Ethics and Eschatology,” John Howard Yoder makes some helpful observations about the nature of power and weakness in theological perspective. In particular he seeks to break down the common opposition of “power” and “powerlessness.” He notes that “It is not false when people who call themselves ‘realists,’ from Machiavelli to Klausewitz to Reinhold Neibuhr, tell us that power comes from the barrel of a gun. That is one kind of power; but the alternative is not weakness but other kinds of power.”
He also notes that “Two semantic mistakes regularly cause confusion in this realm. One is to assume that ‘power’ is qualitatively univocal; the only differentiation being between more and less of it. The other is to claim that it is morally ‘neutral,’ with its moral value depending on what it is used for.”
Thus, Yoder argues that the question of “power” is not one of whether or not Christians are supposed to wield it; the question is what sort of powerfulness is appropriate to those who believe that the cross and resurrection reveal the truth of the cosmos. The mode of power appropriate to those who follow the Crucified Lord is one that sets the church in conflict with the mode of power as violation which places the church in a situation of apocalyptic conflict. Thus, as Yoder claims “to be disarmed after the mode of Christ is to be endowed with the power of truth-telling” and “community building, for which the metaphors of cosmic conflict are most apt because they break the frame of normalcy.”
Thus as Paul proclaimed, the situation is not that our weapons are not powerful but weak. Rather it is that “the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds.” (1 Cor 10:4)
Way back when, Ben Myers posted a meme, about getting theologically “out of the closet” by confessing their idiosyncratic and/or slightly impolite theological beliefs. Here’s the thing about “theological confessions”: they tend to change pretty substantially the more one reads and studies. Or at least mine do. Its not as though fundamental convictions tend to change readily, rather it our sensibilities, tastes, nuances, and emphases that tend to be fluid.
Indeed, when I look over my old list, I am quite embarrassed about a few of them. So, here is a new list of my confessions, which I imagine I will be quite embarrassed about in a year or so:
I confess: I think Karl Barth is the most important theologian of the modern age. No question.
I confess: Sometimes the word “Sola” is necessary for faithful theology and discipleship.
I confess: I think Rowan Williams is the best theologian writing today.
I confess: I think that John Howard Yoder has more to teach us about how to do theology, and the nature of Christology, and ecumenical theology than anyone else in recent theological history.
I confess: I think that Robert Jenson, John Webster, and Bruce McCormack are the best readers of Barth writing today.
I confess: I think that Herbert McCabe was perhaps the smartest modern Catholic theologian.
I confess: I think most attempts to redefine apatheia in recent theology are misguided and misleading.
I confess: I think that the Johannine literature of the New Testament may be the most subversive sector of biblical literature vis a vis modern sensibilities.
I confess: I think the fashionable attempts to contend that “Constantinianism” was not a real thing is just wishful thinking shrouded in silly notions of good ecumenical manners.
I confess: I think that the fashionable attempts to narrate the history of Christian theology as if “Hellenic” influences were not a deeply problematic thing are naive, misguided, and only sustainable on the basis of a lack of critical engagement with the actual historical sources.
“The church can be a foretaste of the peace for which the world was made. It is the function of minority communities to remember and to create utopian visions. There is no hope for society without an awareness of transcendence. Transcendence is kept alive not on the grounds of logical proof to the effect that there is a cosmos with a hereafter, but by the vitality of communities in which a different way of being keeps breaking in here and now. That we can really be led on a different way is real proof of the transcendent power which offers hope of peace to the world as well. Nonconformity is the warrant for the promise of another world. Although immersed in this world, the church by her way of being represents the promise of another world, which is not somewhere else but which is to come here. That promissory quality of the church’s present distinctiveness is the making of peace, as the refusal to make war is her indispensable negative transcendence.”
– John Howard Yoder, The Priestly Kingdom: Social Ethics as Gospel (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), 94.
In light of some of the recent discussions of supercessionism, I want to probe one key question that I think pertains to the possibilities and scope of a non-supercessionist Christian theology. This question is whether or not Jews should continue to become Christians, or more accurately, be exhorted to themselves become followers of the Messiah.
Clearly, as John Howard Yoder argues in The Jewish-Christian Schism Revisited, the early Christians did not see themselves as breaking with Judaism in the sense of starting a new religion, rather they saw themselves as standing within Israel and calling all Israelites to become followers of the Messiah, whose apocalypse had inaugurated the promised kingdom of God. The question then remains whether or how those who remain within ethnic and religious Israel continue to be “God’s people” in some sense “alongside” the church in a way that allows us to affirm the place of Israel and the practice of Judaism within God’s salvific economy. The reason this question is so pressing has much to do with the historical relations between the largely Gentile church and the Jewish people in Medieval and Modern history. In light of the devastating effects of theologies of supercession, is there a non-supercessionist theology that Christians can affirm that allows Christians to view Judaism as in some sense, continuing to exist in God’s salvific economy? This is the question that is being probed in many sectors of Christian theology.
The question, however is not whether or not the fallout of the Jewish-Christian schism has produced a situation in which the call to Jews to become followers of the Messiah has become historically complexified and problematized. Clearly it has. The question however, from the standpoint of Christian theology, is that, regardless of this historical contingencies — including radical Christian unfaithfulness and anti-Semitism — that have ensued in the relationship between the Christianity and Judaism is it still appropriate for the church to call on Jews as well as Gentiles to become followers of Jesus the Messiah? Given the testimony of the early Church I cannot see how we can answer in the negative to this question. An essential element of our christological confession is that the salvation of God, God’s presence is located in Jesus and our covenantal union with God and election as God’s people are tied up with whether or not we are followers of this particular Nazarene. If we want to answer the question “Should Jews be called to follow the Messiah?” with a “no” then I think we need a really good theological reason, and I am at an utter loss to find one
Barth enthusiasts are all excited about the forthcoming new edition of the Church Dogmatics. Currently it is available at a 55% discount from Eisenbraums, a deal that is not likely to be beat anytime soon. Here is the publisher’s description of the new set:
Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics is one of the major theological works of the 20th century. The Swiss-German theologian Karl Barth (1886-1968) was the most original and significant Reformed theologian of the twentieth century. He was one of the central figures in the Confessing Church in Germany, which opposed the Nazi Regime. Barth began the Church Dogmatics in 1932 and continued working on its thirteen volumes until the end of his life. Barth’s writings continue to guide and instruct the preaching and teaching of pastors and academics worldwide. The English translation was prepared by a team of scholars and edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance and published from 1936.
A team of scholars and specialists at Princeton Theological Seminary have started revising the existing translation. The first step was the translation of Greek, Latin, Hebrew and French passages into English. The original is now presented alongside the English translation. This makes the work more reader friendly and accessible to the growing number of students who do not have a working knowledge of the ancient languages. This new edition with translations is presented for the first time in print.
The new edition is presented in a new bigger format and broken down into 31 paperback volumes.
“Time is the revealer of love through its manifoldness, through its slow unfurling of millions of possibilities. Time is the fully unfolded intensity of love, since within Time love can take on the meaning of a story, of a process. Even in a purely formal sense — quite apart from whatever happens within it — Time is God’s most glorious invention, as revelation of his patience (because there is always more Time) and impatience (because Time is irreversible).”
– Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Grain of Wheat: Aphorisms (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1995), 4.
One of the most interesting features of the gospel of John is its particularly anti-Temple posturing (note Jesus’ cleansing of the Temple at the beginning of the gospel rather than near the end). Moreover, John’s gospel stands out particularly in the way in which it presents Jesus as the New Temple/Tabernacle. In the gospel of John there is a concerted emphasis on the locus of the divine presence which shifts from the physical building of the Temple to Jesus’ own person (2:20-22, 4:20-24). In John Jesus proclaims himself rather than the Temple as the true locus of God’s presence, God’s place of coming to dwell with his people. Mary Coloe’s book Dwelling the Household of God develops these themes in a fascinating way.
There are a number of interesting literary connections throughout John’s gospel that relate to this theme of Jesus as the New Temple/Tabernacle. One of the most interesting is the account of Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet in John 12:1-8. The whole affair is noted to take place “six days before the Passover” which places it on the evening of the Sabbath. The evening of the Sabbath included the Habdalah prayers which involved a transition from sacred time to ordinary time. In the Habdalah the sacred and the profane were distinguished through a ritual of anointing which set aside holy objects, persons, and spaces for God’s service.
This is also connected to the Mosaic regulations for the consecration of the Tabernacle and the priesthood in Exodus:
Then you shall take the anointing oil, and anoint the tabernacle and all that is in it, and consecrate it and all its furniture, so that it shall become holy. You shall also anoint the altar of burnt offering and all its utensils, and consecrate the altar, so that the altar shall be most holy. You shall also anoint the basin with its stand, and consecrate it. Then you shall bring Aaron and his sons to the entrance of the tent of meeting, and shall wash them with water, and put on Aaron the sacred vestments, and you shall anoint him and consecrate him, so that he may serve me as priest. (Exod 40:9-13)
Thus, in the context of John’s gospel Jesus is presented as the New Temple, consecrated as the locus of God’s divine presence among the people of God. This forms one of the key images that characterizes Johannine Christology. In John’s gospel Jesus is the New Temple/Tabernacle, the overabundant, excessive fulfillment of God’s promises to dwell among his people (cf. Exod 25:8, 29:45-46). In the Johannine Jesus we see a sort of radical particularization of God’s eschatological covenant promises in which Jesus interrupts the reality of Israel even as God’s elect people, fullfilling their election even as he particularizes and “catholicizes” it in his own singular reality. In this singular event, it is Jesus, the New Temple/Tabernacle of God who lifts up Israel in a radically apocalyptic event of transfiguration and incorporation into the life of the Trinitarian God even as — in the very same act — Jesus actualizes reality of Israel’s election in a radically new mode, one which particularizes Jews and Gentiles together in and as one body, the body of the Crucified and Risen Messiah.
Lately the question of the relation between Israel and the Church and Christianity and Judaism has been raised. What I think is crucial in such discussions is that we not equivocate on the terms employed. What is the relationship between the religion of “Christianity” and the theological reality of “Church”? Or the religion of “Judaism” and the theological reality of “Israel”?
These are, I think the supremely crucial points because they deal with the Barthian issue about revelation versus religion. Certainly the revelation of God stands as judge over all religions, including Christianity. But, can the categories of “Church” and “Israel” be coordinated as subsets of the religions of “Christianity” and “Judaism”? Or do “Church” and “Israel” belong to the substance of revelation itself in a crucial way? I think for Barth the answer is yes, but how that is all shaped is a very complex theological articulation.
All of this is only to note that I think we sometimes skip far too quickly from “Israel” to “Judaism” and from “Church” to “Christianity” in some of these discussions. Clarity on these points is absolutely necessary. In other words, I think that the relationship between Christianity and Judaism as world religions may be something quite different than the relationship between the Church and Israel in God’s economy of revelation and salvation. What precisely that difference is and how it matters theologically is the very stuff of truly theological dialogue between Christians and Jews.
“The Episcopal Church once was America’s upper crust at prayer. Today it is ‘progressive’ politics cloaked — very thinly — in piety. Episcopalians’ discontents tell a cautionary tale for political as well as religious associations. As the church’s doctrines have become more elastic, the church has contracted. It celebrates an ‘inclusiveness’ that includes fewer and fewer members.”
– George Will, “A Faith’s Dwindling Following,” The Washington Post.
“To know that the Lamb who was slain was worthy to receive power not only enables his disciples to face martyrdom when they must; it also encourages them to go about their daily crafts and trades, to do their duties as parents and neighbors, without be driven to despair by cosmic doubt. Even before the broken world can be made whole by the Second Coming, the witnesses to the first coming — through the very fact that they proclaim Christ above the powers, the Son above the angels — are enabled to go on proleptically in the redemption of creation. Only this evangelical Christology can found a truly transformationist approach to culture.”
– John Howard Yoder, The Priestly Kingdom (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), 61.
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